The Earache
By Jan Monroe
"What is that noise?" Jim asked.
"What one?" Blair asked. This guessing game had been going on since last night. They had already been through all the major noise makers the loft. They had started with the squeak in the ceiling fan and progressing down the rumble of their refrigerator.
"That one, don't you hear it?" Jim demanded.
Blair was more than a little tired of all the guessing games. "What is wrong with you?"
"I don't know, my hearing is out of whack." Jim didn't seem too apologetic for unreasonable demand he placed on his guide that morning.
"A little out of whack . . . " Blair's tiredness showed through, how was he supposed into his job if Jim didn't about these things. A whole Saturday morning shot just because Jim would not admit he had an earache. "When did it start?"
Jim mumbled his reply, "mind . . . "
"Monday! Did you say Monday?" Blair was practically yelling.
"Hey Chief, what are you so worried about is just a little earache." Jim tried to laugh it off.
"Earaches do not stay little. Why do you think babies cry when they have an ear infection?" Blair demanded. "How bad is it?"
"Not that bad. I just have this ringing in my right ear." Jim tried to brush off Blair is concerned.
"What is your hearing set at?"
"Two."
"And you are still complaining?" All of Blair's mother hen tendencies were yelling or hit him upside his head with something. How dare him not admit to being sick.' His other instincts, the healer part of the shamans, are yelling even louder fix him! That your job!'
"It's a little annoying,' Jim claimed off handedly.
"Annoying? How's your throat?" Blair asked.
"A little sore. Its allergy season . . . you know grasses, trees, all those things that never bothered before my senses came on line?" Jim knew that Blair cared but this was starting to feel like an interrogation.
Blair had heard enough, "get your coat."
"I don't want to go anywhere," Jim knew that being exposed to all the street sounds would give him a headache on top of the earache
"I don't remember asking if you wanted to go. I said get your coat." Blair stated this time, but his tone allowed for no arguments.
Jim knew that he could not win this round and grabbed his coat, "where are we going?"
"The clinic," Blair stated,
"You want me to pay solid gold prices for a little earache?" Jim protested.
"You have great medical insurances. What are you complaining about? These of us who have to pay for our Doctors visits and drugs really feel for you having a five-dollar co-pay per Doctor visit and two-dollar co-pay on drugs." Blair was not going to let him off the hook.
Jim pinned Blair with one of his patented stares, "you haven't been paying for your hospital stays have you?"
"No, my university medical insurance is basic hospitalization. The department picks up the rest. Don't worry. Now, stop trying you get the attention off you. You are going to the doctor, " Blair stated. He knew that Jim was trying to get out of going.
The trip passed quickly but the waiting room as just as bad as Jim had feared . . . loud and chaotic . . . and the wait was more than an hour.
"Ellison," the nurse called out, motioning Jim back. Blair wasn't taking any chances, when Jim stood, he followed. Usually Blair waited in the waiting room but this time he was going to make a point to his sentinel, 'Don't lie to me!'
Jim glared at Blair as he entered the examination room, "I can handle this, Chief. Why don't you go back out to the waiting room?"
Blair stood off to the side, with his arms crossed, doing his best impression of the Ellison glare, "are you planning to tell the Doctor the whole story?"
"I don't know how you could doubt me?" Jim decided to play the innocent and get Blair's sympathies.
It didn't work. Blair got a look on his face that Jim knew well...and hated. His jaw was set, his arms were crossed, and he was leaning against the wall. He didn't say a word but his body language screamed, 'give me a break.'
Before Jim could think of another tactic for getting rid of Blair the Doctor walked in.
"Mr. Ellison, what seems to be the problem?" She asked.
"A little sore throat..." Jim stated.
Blair whispered, 'and.'
Jim glared at Blair but continued, 'a minor earache.'
The doctor glanced between the two men. She could tell that something was going on but couldn't figure out what. She started her examination, "when did you first notice something was wrong?"
"Wednesday," Jim stated.
"Nice story, why don't you tell her the truth this time?" Blair challenged, loud enough for the doctor to hear.
Jim glared at Blair but admitted to the truth, "Monday."
She looked at his throat. "Do you know what happens if you don't take care of strep throat?"
Jim shrugged, he knew that tone of voice. It was the 'I going to give you a lecture for you own good' voice. Blair had the exact same tone and Jim had learned to just sit through the lecture and then forget it...usually.
"Try rheumatic fever which leads to heart problems and possible death." She didn't like his vacant look, "do you plan to die from a treatable illness?"
Blair just smiled. He had finally found a Doctor for Jim that wouldn't take his tough guy attitude.
"I'm going to give you EE's." she stated and started to pull out her prescription pad.
Blair piped up, "No, he's allergic to it."
She raised an eyebrow but nodded, "Reflex?"
"Sorry," Blair replied.
She listed six other common antibiotics. Jim watched this exchange, usually the only time that Blair made decisions about his care his was out of it. This was very educational. Blair was even more protective of Jim than Jim in blessed protector mode.
"How about penicillin?" She asked.
"It works for him," Blair proclaimed.
"Finally," she was relieved the learn of the allergies before a tragedy could happen. She also knew that she would have to give him a hefty dose to be effective in this advanced case. She wrote two prescriptions, the penicillin, and ear drops. She turned to talk to Blair, assuming that he was in charge of her patient's medical care. She started giving care instructions like Jim was three-years-old.
Jim was not amused but stayed quiet. Blair was going to be hard enough to live with until this was cured. Jim saw no need to excite Blair any further. He was still simmering when they suddenly caught his attention.
'...I'll give you a note for sick days...'
Jim couldn't let this go, "I'll be fine to go to work Monday."
The doctor shot him a wether glare, "you would have if you had came in on Wednesday. Now, you are out for a week."
She turned back to Blair and continued giving instructions. "Wait for the nurse," she ordered.
"This is getting old, Chief," Jim stated.
"What the Doctor talking around you or you having to take some of those sick days you been accumulated for years?" Blair asked.
"Both."
"Then you must not have been listening a few minutes ago. I thought that you would be more upset about how you are going to start your treatment," Blair wasn't joking.
"What are did you two devise?" Jim's suspicion was clear.
"For the antibiotic to work, you have to have a very large dose. The fastest, most effective way to get them into you is a nice large shot in the butt," Blair stated matter-of-factly.
"My arm will be just fine!" Jim practically yelled, then winced at the sound of his own voice.
"No it won't."
Jim took a deep breath getting up steam to fight with Blair some more when the Nurse came in. She looked like someone's grandmother with her extremely thick glasses and gray hair.
"Drop your drawers I need a big target," First she appeared to zero in on Blair. "Why are you here?"
"I'm just keeping him from leaving," Blair dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "He is the worst patient I have ever meet. He needs constant supervision."
Jim let this smart remark slide but Sandburg was pushing him too far.
The nurse turned to Jim as he eased the waistband down to show just the top of his right hip.
"Farther down. If you get it there . . . it will hurt," she stated firmly.
Jim reluctantly dropped his pants showing his entire behind.
"Much better." She gave him the shots quickly and to Jim's surprise, he barely noticed.
Jim pulled up his pants. They headed out to take care of the paperwork when Jim hear the nurse comment, 'He had really cute buns, nice and firm," off in another part of the office.
Jim tried not to react but he turned bright red and keep walking past the clerk, leaving Blair to face to cashier alone.
Blair came out to the truck about a half hour later. Jim was sleeping soundly scrunched up on the seat. Blair knew that Jim hated to ride while other drove. It had something with Jim's need to be in control. But Jim was sleeping so Blair gently maneuvered his way into the driver's seat. Jim used his right leg as a pillow.
Blair was suddenly glad that he had stop at the drugstore across from the clinic.
The drive home took longer then when Jim drove...Blair followed the speed limits.
Getting Jim up to the loft was hard work and Blair was sure that it wasn't in his job discription. No where in his observer paperwork, school contract, or Burton's manuscript about Sentinals did it say, "carry semi-councous detective to bed."
Blair got him as far as the couch and gave up.
Jim was out for the rest of the day.
The end