Warnings: None really, but it is a Blair owie.
Feedback: Always welcome
Notes: This is my real life story. I was diagnosed in 1999 and have been living with it ever since, but sharing my condition with Blair helps!
Originally posted to Sentinel Angst many years ago.
*~*~*
Early morning sunlight spilled through the skylight, Jim turned his head into his pillow, eyes closed tight against the bright light.
"Jim? Are you awake?" The whisper soft voice of his friend drifted up to his sensitive ears.
"Yeah," he moaned, folding his pillow up over his ears.
"Okay. I gotta go. I have an early appointment with the eye doctor and a class at 10:00." His partner paused and Jim moaned again, his head was pounding. He squinted at the bedside alarm clock. 7:00am. He needed to get up, even though he'd only fallen into bed a few hours ago.
"I'll be by the station later," Blair called and Jim could hear him picking up his worn backpack and keys from the basket by the door. "Later, man."
"Later," Jim murmured. How could Blair be so awake when he got just as little sleep? The all night stake out was uneventful, but sitting in a truck till the wee hours of the morning, night after night was taking its toll.
Jim rolled over, putting his pillow completely over his head, a few more minutes of sleep and then he would go into the station.
*~*~*
Blair had to settle for breakfast on the run, so he went to the corner bakery and picked out a few buttermilk donuts for Jim and a poppy seed bagel for himself. He made a fresh pot of coffee before leaving.
His day was full; he had an 8:00a.m. appointment with the eye doctor and an early class, followed by a lecture and office hours. Then he was going to the station to help Jim with his paper work before another endless night of staking out Bob Hotchkiss' house.
The suspect in question was probably out of the state by now. He was an older man, established in a good career, with a wife and three grown children. Earlier in the week he was identified by a robbery victim, a mini mart owner claimed that the offender was in his store almost daily and that he was a good customer, usually buying a coffee and morning paper.
Blair wondered what would make a man like Bob Hotchkiss snap and ruin his life over a lousy eighty-five bucks.
Later in the week three more gas stations and convenience stores were victimized and the surveillance cameras revealed Bob Hotchkiss as the perpetrator.
Pulling his Volvo into a spot in front of the medical center, Blair stuffed the rest of his breakfast into his mouth, wiping a few stray poppy seeds with the back of his hand.
Once inside, he signed in and waited his turn to register. He hated to wait, hated going to see a doctor, but he needed a new prescription. His glasses were almost four years old; he was way overdue and he was starting to have headaches. Thinking it was from the endless night of grading papers, it had to be eyestrain.
Finally through the registration process, he found himself sitting in a packed waiting room. The other occupants were mostly older people, all watching the endless loop of prescription drug ads and helpful health tips on the waiting room television.
Seeing that he was in for the long haul, he reached for his backpack, pulling out a tattered book and his old glasses.
An hour later the nurse finally called his name. She was young, her brown hair hung loose, angled around her thin face.
He smiled at her, stuffing his journal back into his pack, hauling it over his shoulder and followed her down the end of a narrow hall to a small room.
"Have a seat in the chair, Mr. Sandburg." She pulled out a stool next to the table that ran the length of the far wall. "My name is Molly."
"Hi Molly. Please call me Blair." Blair dumped his pack in the corner of the tiny room and sat on the chair in the middle. A small shiver ran up his spine at the sight of the chair, it was a smaller version of a dentist chair, but Blair pushed the memory away and took a steadying breath.
On the wall to his left was a rig holding a mask-like device to test his eyes. He watched silently as Molly filled out a few pages in his charts. "It's been awhile since you've been in. Are you having any problems?"
"Um...not really. I'm just way overdue for a new pair of glasses and I've been having some headaches. I thought it was probably from the strain on my eyes."
"Okay." She picked up a black mask with a notch in the middle. She handed it to him and asked him to cover his right eye. "Look at the eye chart and read the smallest line you can see."
He read across the third line from the top, and then repeated the process with his other eye.
She stood when he handed the cover back. "Okay, I'm going to put a few drops into your eyes."
He shifted back in his seat, placing his head on the rest. She stood close to him; he could feel her soft breath on his face as she gently held his right eye open. The drops were cold and he flinched, tiny droplets ran down his cheek and Molly handed him a tissue then repeating the process with the other eye. It was so much harder to keep that one open.
"The drops will numb and dilate your eyes," she explained, moving the rig in front of him and adjusting it to his height. She used an alcohol prep to wipe off the chin rest. "Rest your chin here," she instructed.
Blair leaned forward and waited as she pulled her stool to sit in front of him. "Ready?" she asked.
"Yeah." He watched as she adjusted a blue light extension and moved it toward his right eye.
"Just look straight ahead, this doesn't hurt." She was looking through some kind of scope on the other end of the light, which gently touched his eye. It was all he could do to not pull away; a shiver crept down his spine and straight to his toes. The thought of something touching his eye gave him the creeps.
She repeated the process with the other eye then pulled the rig away. "Looks good. Your pressure is fine and there's no Glaucoma."
Blair released a small sigh, nodding his head. Glaucoma didn't run in his family, so he wasn't too worried.
"Okay, you can have a seat in the waiting room and Dr. Gordon will be out to get you in a few minutes."
*~*~*
Jim sat hunched over his desk, a half filled cup of cold coffee at his fingertips. There was twice as much paper work in his in box than was in his out box. It was mornings like this that he really missed Blair.
The headache he woke with was still steadily pounding away, but he dialed down the pain to a more manageable level.
"Hey, Jim. You look like hell, man." Henri Brown sank into the chair next to Jim's desk, an evil grin on his dark face.
Jim just glared at him for a brief second, and then went back to the open folder on his desk.
"I have the witness statements from The Corner Mart." H handed over the folder.
Jim flipped open the folder and skimmed the statement. It was what he expected. The night clerk had come in earlier and looked though some photographs. They had the surveillance video from the other stores and wanted the clerk to I.D. Hotchkiss.
It was his last job, just two days ago. He robbed The Corner Market and when the clerk pulled a gun, he must have panicked. The clerk boxed Hotchkiss in the store and left him little choice. They struggled for the gun and Hotchkiss won, ordering the clerk into the back room.
A witness reported seeing Hotchkiss leaving on foot. The clerk was found, bound and unharmed in the back room and the hunt for Hotchkiss was ongoing. Jim still wasn't sure how he managed to be the lucky one to catch this case. It was one of those favors for the Mayor deals. Simon informed him that Hotchkiss was a standup guy. Seems he was friendly with the Mayor, they went way back to His Honor's college days.
"Ellison?" Simon's bark could be heard down in records.
Jim slid the folder shut and stood, walking slowly toward his captain. "Yes, sir?"
Simon moved away from his door and allowed the detective entrance. The door slammed with a resounding thud as Jim moved to stand in front of the large desk, waiting for an invitation to sit.
"Have a seat, Jim," the captain walked around his desk and plopped into his chair, "and please tell me you have something on the Hotchkiss case."
Jim sat and studied his friend's face. He knew that Simon would be getting pressure from the brass on this one. They had plenty on the case. Lot's of evidence to put Hotchkiss away, but no Hotchkiss and no idea why someone like him would just up and rob a mini mart.
"We have a positive ID, sir. We have been staking out his house and place of business, but have been unable to locate him." Jim waited to see if there would be an eruption, but none came. His boss just slumped farther into his seat. "Sir?"
"There seems to be a new twist." Simon stood and poured a cup of coffee, nodding his head toward Jim.
Moving forward in his seat, Jim declined the coffee. "New twist?"
"I got a call this morning," Simon began. "It seems that Hotchkiss' youngest daughter is missing."
Simon sat his cup on the desk and walked around to the table on the other side of his office. "She's a college student at Rainer. Her roommate reported her missing a few days ago."
Jim jumped up and followed Simon over to the table, taking the folder and opening to a picture of a young girl, maybe sixteen. Her bright green eyes shone in the sunlight, her pretty face peppered with tiny freckles. "Why are we just now being told this?"
"I don't know," Simon said wearily. "Something is going on here and we are only getting the information they want us to know. I thought that since she was a student, maybe Blair could find out some information. Where is he?"
"He had an appointment and class this morning. I'll fill him in on this new development when he comes in." Jim picked the folder up and turned to leave.
"Just be discrete," Simon said.
"Very good, sir." And then Jim decided to head over to the university. Blair should still be at his appointment anyway. He could ask around, see what he could find out and then meet up with Blair after his class for lunch.
*~*~*
Thirty minutes later, his vision too blurry to read, Blair's name was finally called. He stood and followed a woman down the same hall into a slightly larger room than the one he'd been in earlier.
She patted the large exam chair and he dropped his pack on the chair in the corner. "I'm Dr. Gordon. Hop up and we'll have a look."
She was a pleasant looking older woman, chubby, with round dimpled cheeks when she smiled at him. Her curly salt and pepper hair was tucked behind her ears, as was her pen.
Blair stepped up on the footrest and slid back into the reclining seat. He jumped a little when the chair was adjusted forward into a more upright position. She smiled at him and patted his arm. "Sorry, should have warned you about that little ride."
She pushed a loose curl behind her ear and pulled her swivel chair in front of him. Again the large apparatus was pulled in front of him and the chin rest was wiped clean. "Rest you chin here."
Blair leaned forward and placed his chin as directed. "The tech dilated your eyes. I'm going to shine a pretty bright light in so I can see way to the back. You ready?"
Blair nodded and tried to relax as much as the awkward position would allow. The doctor leaned forward and a bright light came on. "Look at my left ear."
Blair shifted his eyes and the light became more bearable. He could hear her shifting around, picking things up on the tray in front of him. She placed something in front of his eye and the light intensity changed again. "You're doing great."
Blair swallowed, feeling a little uneasy. His last eye exam was nothing like this. It seemed like minutes ticked by before she moved to his other eye.
He flinched back a little with the intensity of the light. "I'm sorry," she soothed. She stood and the light went away. "Lean your head back for me."
Blair leaned against the headrest and her hand rested on his forehead. "This will help relax your eyes." She pulled his eyelid up and dropped a few drops in. The soothing liquid took the burning away. "The light is very bright and sometimes it's hard for people to relax enough for me get a good look. Just keep your eyes closed for a few minutes and relax." He could feel her patting his face with a tissue where the drops escaped his tightly closed lids.
Blair cleared his throat and then asked the question that was really bugging him. "Is there something wrong?"
Her brief hesitation him told him all he needed to know. "Well, your optic nerves appear to be swollen. I really want to look again, though, when you are ready and I want to have a colleague come in to have a look too."
Blair opened his eyes and searched her face. "What do you think it is?" His voice sounded panicked and he licked his lips, trying to calm down. "Is it something serious?"
"It can be a few different things, but I want to look again to make sure I'm seeing what I think I'm seeing." She smiled at him again, patting his hand.
Blair nodded and leaned forward again, sliding his chin into the rest. She moved in and studied his left eye, taking her time. After a few minutes she pushed a button on the console and a voice crackled over the intercom.
"Molly, can you page Dr. Moyer please?"
Blair stayed put and Dr. Gordon moved back to her seat, examining his other eye. "Okay, Blair. Sit back and relax for a few minutes. I've paged Dr. Moyer and he's going to have a look too."
She pushed her chair back over to the table to review his chart. "You told the tech that you've been having some headaches that you thought it was because of eye strain. Can you tell me how often and where your head hurts?"
Blair thought for a second. "Um, well I usually wake up with a mild headache. I'm a TA at the university and I tend to stay up late, grading papers, reading, and working on my laptop."
"Do you take anything for it and where in your head does it hurt?" She wrote his responses down in the chart, pulling a fresh piece of paper from the cabinet.
"I don't usually take any over the counter medicines. If it's bad enough I might take an aspirin. In the mornings it seems that my head hurts toward the back, but sometimes I have stress headaches."
"Where are those headaches at?" She looked up at him, waiting. His apprehension doubled. How did a trip to get new glasses turn into a discussion about his headaches?
"Sometimes right in the front," Blair pointed to his forehead, "and sometimes it's on the left side, but they are usually mild."
"How about any other pains? Muscle or joint pain?"
"Well, sure." He was always getting banged up. Heck sitting with Jim in the truck all week long had done a number on his back and neck. "Sometimes. I work as a...consultant of sorts with the police department. This last week I spent my nights on a stake out and my back is paying the price."
Before any more questions could be asked, a young man knocked on the door. "Hello. I'm Dr. Moyer." He stepped the rest of the way in and briskly shook Blair's hand. The two doctors talked, most of which Blair had a hard time following and then Blair found himself back with his chin on the rest.
Dr. Moyer looked into his right eye, taking his time as Dr. Gordon had, his steady breath hitting Blair's cheek. Then he moved to the left spending more time there. "His left eye is more pronounced," he said.
"I agree. I think we need to do a rule out today." Dr. Gordon's voice floated to him from the far corner of the room.
Finally Dr. Moyer pushed the chair back and the machine was pulled away from Blair's face.
"I'll set it up," Dr. Moyer said. "Have you explained anything to Mr. Sandburg?"
"No, I just started to question him about his history."
All the conversation about him was unnerving, considering he was sitting right there. "Can someone just tell me what is going on?" It was harsher then he intended, but he was more then a little scared and didn't like being talked about like he wasn't even in the room.
Dr. Gordon sat in the swivel chair and crossed her legs. "I'm sorry, let me fill you in while Dr. Moyer sets up the tests."
"Tests?" God, he definitely didn't like the sound of that.
"Yes, we need to send you for a rule out head CT scan."
*~*~*
Jim sat in his truck, looking over his notes. Bob Hotchkiss' youngest daughter was indeed young, only seventeen. She was a freshman and living on campus with two other roommates. She had gone to the library to study for an exam and never returned.
That was three days ago and that was all Jim had. He had talked to the head of campus security and was assured that he would be kept informed, but that they didn't have any leads.
He talked to both the girl's roommates. They were a little older, one was eighteen and one was nineteen. Both were majoring in History, just like Jennifer Hotchkiss. Both girls came from wealthy families; their records were clean. Jim didn't sense that either were lying as they both told their stories.
Neither one had been in the room when Jennifer left to study that night. They both had a late class and Jennifer had left a note; which had been turned over to campus security. Jim made a note to find out what became of it.
They both saw her at dinner in the cafeteria, around six that night and had shared the meal with her. They discussed their day, what plans they had for the weekend and said that Jennifer seemed distracted, nervous.
Neither knew of any family problems, or could remember Jennifer remarking about her father. Something just wasn't adding up and Jim just couldn't figure it out.
The ringing phone made him jump and he dropped his pen. Fumbling in his jacket pocket, he finally pulled the phone free and snapped the mouthpiece open. "Ellison."
"Hey," Blair's voice sounded strained.
Jim sat up a fraction straighter and glanced at the clock. It was only 10:30; Blair shouldn't be done his class yet.
"Chief, what's wrong?"
"I, um..." Jim could hear him trying to control his breathing. "I'm still at the medical center. I have to have a few tests and just wanted to let you know I was going to be late to the station. Didn't want you to worry, man."
"Is everything okay?" Jim turned over the engine and started to drive, not really sure of where he was heading.
"Yeah, I just have this thing with my optic nerve they wanted to check out." Blair's voice sounded breathy to Jim and it worried him. What wasn't Sandburg telling him? "So I have to go over to Cascade General and have a few tests. I shouldn't be long."
Jim turned onto the freeway and headed south toward the station. "I have to drop something off at the station and then I'll be over."
"You don't have to do that, Jim." But Jim wasn't going to hear any of it.
"Look, Sandburg, if they are going to be doing any kind of test with your eyes, you're probably going to be needing a ride home. It's no problem. I'll wrap things up at the station and be there in an hour or so, okay?"
"Okay." Was that relief in his Guide's voice?
"Good, where can I find you?"
The pause set Jim's senses on alert. He strained to hear Blair through the phone line, to catalog his vital signs. "I um, I'm going to be in the E.R. That's where the open testing equipment is. See you later." Blair hung up before Jim could say anything else. What the hell was going on?
*~*~*
Blair signed in like everyone else waiting to be seen in the overcrowded waiting area. He was a bit surprised when his name was called just a few minutes later.
"Hello, Mr. Sandburg. Dr. Moyer called and told us to expect you. I'm just going to check your blood pressure and temperature and then we can go back."
The triage nurse checked him over and started a chart. She asked him a few questions about his medical history and then walked him over to the admission desks. "Mr. Sandburg, we need to get some information for billing and then we'll take you back for testing."
Blair nodded and sank into the chair she pulled out for him. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
A woman in a purple business suit came over, smiling a little too much. "Hello, Mr. Sandburg. I'm Cathy."
"Hello," he greeted, not really feeling chatty or like smiling. She reached across the cubicle and shook his hand.
"I just have to ask you a few questions about your insurance and emergency contacts. That sort of stuff." She posed her fingers over the keyboard and Blair wondered how she could type with fingernails so long, painted a deep red, with a swirling pattern of glitter.
When he gave all the pertinent information, the triage nurse returned and ushered him back to a small cubicle. She told him to undress and put on a gown, and that a doctor would be with him in a few minutes.
He got undressed and waited. It felt like minutes; it felt like forever. The sounds around him were suddenly loud, a baby crying for her mother, a man in the next cubicle moaning, and then the noise faded and Blair sank back against the pillow, covering his eyes with his forearm.
This can't be happening. I can't have a...
"Mr. Sandburg?"
Blair shifted to his side and looked to the partially open curtain. A woman dragging a blood pressure machine stepped the rest of the way in. "I'm Jane. I'm going to check your blood pressure again and start an IV."
"An IV?" Blair sat up on the exam bed. Why did he need an IV for a CT scan?
She wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm and pressed the button. "It's just a precaution. We aren't doing any liquids right now, it's just in case we need to give you any fluids or medicine later on."
When she was done checking his pressure, she started to look for a vein. God, he hated needles. If the CT scan was clear, and he prayed to any deity that would listen that it was, he was worried about the next step. Hell, he should be extremely grateful that it would mean...well, he couldn't even really think of the possibility. But still, the thought of a huge needle being stuck in his...
"Just a little pinch." Her words brought him back from his own mini zone and he flinched, even though it didn't really hurt all that much. She taped the plugged tube down to his arm and cleaned up the area. As she was leaving, Dr. Moyer came in.
"Okay, Blair. Are you ready to go for a ride?" Blair nodded and an orderly came in behind the doctor.
The man busied himself with unlocking the brakes on the gurney as Dr. Moyer reviewed the plan with his patient. "So, what we are going to do is rule out a mass."
It was so matter of fact. Blair was so scared. Rule out a mass. A mass. If it was a mass, was it cancer? Thoughts of brain cancer and surgery and chemotherapy and dying far too young flirted across Blair's mind. What if Blair lost his mind? What if he was reduced to the mind of a child? What if...
But Dr. Moyer had another theory, one that Blair desperately wanted to believe, even though he didn't fit the normal profile for it.
What was it called again? Pseudo something. Dr. Moyer said it was found primarily in women, but it wasn't unheard of in men. And he said that Blair had some of the fundamental symptoms. That was encouraging, all he had to do was go through the CT to rule out a mass and then he would have to have a lumbar puncture to confirm the diagnosis. He could do this. Just a little test then he would know.
The ride down the corridor was a cold one; the breeze from the moving gurney finding it's way under his sheet to his bare skin. He shivered, wondering if it was because he was cold or just in a state of shock. He could hardly believe his ears when Dr. Gordon began to explain what she thought might be wrong with him. She told him that the reason his optic nerves were swollen was because something was pressing against them. That if left alone, he would have started to experience a loss of vision.
She told him that it was possible that he had a mass, but that the symptoms that he talked about earlier sounded like a condition that they see sometimes. She asked if he sometimes got lightheaded, or heard ringing in his ears.
The answer was that he had, but he always passed it off as something else. He would go without eating when he was on a case with Jim or had a project at the University. If he skipped a meal, he might feel a little dizzy and sometimes when he stood up, he got that ringing in his ears and his eyes had been doing weird things lately, but he thought he just needed a new prescription for his glasses.
The gurney stopped and the orderly helped him to sit up. A tech came out of an enclosed windowed area and helped Blair adjust his gown.
"I'm John and I'm going to help you get situated." He grabbed Blair under the armpit and slid him off the gurney, supporting him at the elbow. "I just want you to sit about halfway down the bed."
John pointed to the narrow table and Blair complied. He sat where John put him and waited, looking around the room. John walked over toward the door and tapped a few commands into a computer there.
On the opposite end of the bed Blair was sitting on was a huge hollow ring. It went around the head of the bed. Blair hadn't been awake during his last head CT, but assumed that it was the business end of the machine. From the foot of the bed, he could see the windowed room and a few techs on the other side.
John came back over and helped Blair lay back, resting his neck in a raised groove. "Okay, this will only take about ten minutes. Just relax and lay as still as possible."
John pressed a hand held remote and the bed moved toward the huge rings. When Blair looked up, he could just see the tip of the machine. "Just close your eyes and relax," John instructed. "I'm going to be on the other side of the window. If you need me, just talk, we can hear you."
Blair nodded and heard the door clicking closed. If he looked down without moving his head, he could see the people on the other side of the glass, walking around. The machine came to life and made a whishing sound, but it wasn't too loud. He tried not to think about all the radiation going into him and shivered, wishing he had thought to ask for the sheet on the gurney.
A woman walked past the window and looked in at him and he briefly wondered if was putting on a free show, noting the gooseflesh on his upper thighs, then he concentrated on trying to read her face. Could he tell by her expression if she saw a mass?
Time passed, the machine noise died down and the door opened. John came out, but his face was neutral. He helped Blair up and then left to pull the gurney back in. Once settled under the sheets and feeling a little warmer Blair asked, "Now what?"
John started to push the gurney through the doorway and down the hall. "Now the radiologist comes in to read your results. He should be back from lunch soon. Your doctor will let you know as soon as he has the results."
Blair nodded, pulling the inadequate sheet a little tighter around his shoulders. He would have to ask for a blanket when he got back to his cubical.
*~*~*
Jim entered the bullpen and sank into his chair. The folder sitting on his desk was still a huge question mark. He was no closer to solving this case than he was when he first got it. It just didn't make any sense.
Rafe walked through, with a fresh cup of coffee and a bag from the corner deli. The smell was appealing and Jim's stomach agreed. It was only 11:30, but an early lunch wouldn't hurt and then he could pick something up for Blair on his way to get him.
That was another cause for concern. Jim wondered if his friend was keeping something from him. He knew that Blair was burning the candle on both ends, but he always did that... He didn't seem to be any worse for the wear. Just the usual; an occasional headache, body aches; he'd noticed Blair rubbing at his neck. Hell, the kid wasn't getting any younger and neither was he.
"Jim?" Simon was standing just outside his office door.
"Yes sir?" Sitting up a little straighter, he watched as his boss walked over and perched on the end of his desk. Not a good sign.
"Anything on the girl?" The question was accompanied by a sickly sweet smile. He was definitely in trouble. Simon was only ever this nice when the pressure from the top was unbearable.
Jim shifted, Simon didn't intimidate him and Simon knew it, but they went through the dancing ritual anyway. "Nothing helpful, sir."
The smile dropped from Simon's face and Jim sighed.
"Well, maybe that so called partner of yours will have some inspired insight. Where is he, anyway? I thought he should have been bouncing in by now." Simon stood, shoving his hands deep into his pants pockets.
"I'm going to go pick him up in a little while, he had to have some tests done." Jim noted the raised eyebrows, but didn't want to have to explain something he had no knowledge of himself. "But I was going to grab a bite to eat first, care to join me, sir?"
"Oh. Are you kidding? Without the kid around, I can eat whatever I want without a lecture. Count me in." Simon walked briskly back his office to grab his jacket.
"My thoughts exactly, sir," Jim called to him, grabbing his own coat from the hook by the door, "my thought exactly."
*~*~*
Even with the blanket, the cold seemed to seep in. Blair wasn't sure how long he had been lying there, but it seemed like hours. "How long does the radiologist get for lunch, anyway?" he wondered.
Time ticked by and he drifted in and out of a troubled slumber. He was beginning to think that they had forgotten about him when the curtain was pulled back and a woman in scrubs walked in, carrying a heavy looking covered tray.
He craned his neck on the pillow, wiping sleep from his eyes, zeroing in on the tray and its significance. Hope surged through him as he shifted onto his side, pulling his stubborn gown from under him as it twisted with his body.
"I'm sorry that you had to wait so long, Mr. Sandburg." The women smiled, setting her burden down on the rolling table by his gurney.
Blair shifted forward a bit, trying to sit up, but she stilled him with a hand to his shoulder. "Hey there, don't get up on my account."
His tongue didn't seem to want to work and he briefly wondered if they had slipped him a drug to keep him calm while he waited. "I'm here to give you some news. Dr. Moyer got called into a consult, so he sent me. My name is Shelly and I'm an intern in the Neurology Department."
News? She didn't say good news. His heart took a sudden down drop again. "What kind of news?" he asked, pushing himself up a little, feeling vulnerable from his current position.
She smiled at him, perching on the end of his gurney. Her brown eyes sparkled as she took a deep breath as if about to launch into a long speech. Her simple words washed over him and he wasn't sure if he heard her right.
"Huh?" It came out shaky, but he didn't care. He needed to hear the words again.
She smiled again and repeated herself. "I said, the CT scan was clear."
Blair collapsed back against the pillow, rubbing his hands over his face. His hands were shaking, but he didn't care; he could literally feel the relief wash over him. After a few seconds he regained his composure.
"Now what?" he asked, his hands falling back to his chest.
"Now we do the lumbar puncture to check the pressure. That's the next step." She shifted off the foot of the bed and moved to the tray. "I'm going to call a nurse in and we are going get started. Have you ever had this procedure done before?"
Blair shook his head; words seemed to fail him at the sight of the uncovered tray and the thought of what it held.
"Don't worry, it's not as bad as you might think." She continued to unpack her supplies, opening a large bottle of brown fluid and pouring it into a well on the tray.
Blair watched with a sort of detached interest. Maybe if he pretended it was someone else, he might be able to calm down a little. It wasn't as if he was a wuss, really. He just wasn't a huge fan of pain, and that long needle looked really painful. And he wasn't scared really, more like...nervous.
Shelly was talking, explaining the release form. He half listened, until she got to the infection, paralyses, and death part. "But your prognosis is excellent for this procedure," she finished, handing him the pen.
He swallowed hard, touching pen to paper, deciding he was being childish and that she was surely an expert on this sort of thing, he signed his name.
She tucked the paper into his chart and stuck her head out the curtained area. A few minutes later another woman came in, smiling down at him. A few more minutes were spent setting up the area they needed to work in and Blair took that time to try to relax.
He tried to use his breathing techniques, taking a deep breath in through his nose and blowing it out slowly through his mouth. It was just starting to work when he was startled by a light touch to his arm.
"Sorry." Shelly frowned. "We're just about ready, but I just wanted to go over the procedure with you."
"Um...okay." He wasn't really sure he wanted to know. Ignorance really was bliss at moments like this.
She didn't seem phased by the uncertainty of his voice and plunged right ahead. "We are going to put you on your side and I need you to curl up in a tight ball, okay?"
"Okay."
"Um, next we numb you up with a local and then the bigger needle is inserted, but all you should feel is just some pressure. Don't worry, okay?" She smiled again, but it just made Blair more nervous instead of putting him at ease.
"Okay." Great, that must be all he was capable of saying.
"Okay, let's get you on your side, then."
Blair rolled over onto his right side, facing the bright curtain. At least he would have something colorful to look at.
Both women stood behind him, Blair strained his hearing trying to figure out what they were doing and at the same time, dreading the knowledge.
The sheet was lifted off him and pulled down, low on his hips. His gown was opened in the back and pushed around to the front, the nurse tucking the bulk of it under his armpit and he felt decidedly naked, shivering a little in the cool room.
Large pads of some sort were swiftly tucked under his back and hips as he was rolled this way and that. "I need for you to pull you knees up now," Shelly said. "All the way up to your chin."
He heard a cabinet opening behind him as he drew his legs up and then it closed again. He could hear paper being discarded into the trash and the sound of latex being pulled onto her hands.
"I'm just checking for landmarks," she announced, pressing hard into his spine. She traced her fingers over from his hips, and he was sure that she was using her fingernail to somehow mark the spot she wanted. "Can you tuck your head down a little more?"
He did as he was asked, although his chin was already touching his chest. It was hard to breathe, he felt crunched, like he couldn't get in enough air.
"That's perfect. Just try to stay just like that." The hands and fingers on his back were removed and he could hear movement behind him. He tried to stay perfectly still, because he just wanted to get this whole thing over with as soon as possible.
The more he thought about it, the tenser he got.
"I'm just going to put some soap on your back now," Shelly said.
Blair lay as still as possible, trying not to jump, even though the soap was cold.
"We try to judge how a patient is going to tolerate the procedure by how they react to the soap. You didn't even flinch," Shelly commented.
"Okay, now you're going to feel a little pinch."
Blair tried not to tense, he waited for the pinch, which really wasn't so bad, but the burn wasn't so pleasant. After a second he could feel the small area becoming numb. She told him that she was injecting more numbing medicine, but he didn't feel it.
"I'm going to give it a second to take effect and then we'll start."
Blair started to nod his head, but then thought better of it. "Um, okay."
His legs were starting to feel weird, and he hoped that he didn't get a cramp. He could hear Shelly moving back, her chair gliding across the floor on squeaky wheels. Too soon her hands were resting on his exposed hip. "Okay, just relax. You should just feel pressure."
He waited, not sure what to expect. The needle went in smoothly, but not painfully. It was a deep pressure, like someone was pressing something hard, but blunt into him. It was manageable, as long as he didn't think about it too much.
After a few minutes, the pressure changed and then returned in a slightly different spot. "You're doing great," Shelly encouraged. For some reason her hands were back on his hips again and he could sense, if not feel, that she was pressing into his spine again.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
"Nope, just looking for a good spot. Can you pull your legs up a bit more?"
He tried, although he already felt like a pretzel.
"Perfect. Stay just like that." And then the strange pressure was back and Blair's mind conjured up images of her digging around with the ten-foot needle, just looking for a juicy spot.
Suddenly, what felt like a bolt of lightning shot down his left leg, causing it to jump off the bed, "Ow." Which really wasn't the right response, it wasn't pain, really.
"What did you feel?" she asked, her voice close to his head.
"I, it felt like, I don't know, sort of like a shock." A cold sweat broke out all over his body and his heart was beating triple time.
God a fan would be good right about now. Maybe this woman didn't really know what the hell she was doing.
The needle shifted again and this time it did hurt. The blunt feeling was gone. This was definitely pain. "Ow, ow, ow," he hissed between tightly clenched teeth.
He could feel her withdraw the needle and press into his spine again. "I'm sorry, just take a deep breath and try to relax."
She was taking forever, or so it seemed, her fingers digging into his spine.
"Mr. Sandburg? Is there a Mr. Sandburg here?" a deep voice called from the other side of the curtain.
When he realized that no one else was going to answer, he spoke up. "I'm Blair Sandburg."
The curtain opened and a man in scrubs stuck his head in. "Oh," he said, taking note of the situation. "Sorry to interrupt, but I got a Jim Ellison out here and he wanted to see if you're okay."
"We're in the middle of a procedure," Shelly said, a little tersely, clearly not happy at the interruption. Her hands were still planted firmly on Blair's back and Blair wasn't sure which was worse, her fingertips or the needle.
"I'll tell him," the guy said, starting to beat a hasty retreat, but Blair's voice stopped him.
"Can you tell him I should be done soon and that I'm okay?" Or at least he hoped all that was true. He was sure that if Jim was already here, he had heard him and that was why he had sent someone back to check on him.
The guy nodded, "Sure thing," and ducked back out of the curtain.
*~*~*
What the hell was going on?
Jim got to the hospital and checked at the front desk. The receptionist told him that Blair was still undergoing some test, so Jim sat down in an old plastic chair in the waiting room with fifty other people, tucking a take out bag behind the leg.
Ten minutes later, he was sorta just drifting, letting his senses do what they seem to do and picked up Blair, clearly in pain. He jumped up and followed the sound, not bothering to stop at the swinging doors marked authorized personnel only.
Once on the other side, he spotted row after row of curtained cubicles and wondered what his best approach would be. It wasn't like he could just barge in. Blair hadn't told him what was going on and he didn't want to infringe on his friend's privacy. Unless, of course, Blair wasn't sure exactly what was happening either.
He grabbed the first person he saw and asked them to go check on his friend, listening to every word of the conversation from his side of the hallway.
When the man returned with Blair's message, Jim wasn't happy. He could hear the strain in Blair's voice and wanted to know what kind of procedure was being done?
"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what's happening with Mr. Sandburg, he's not my patient," the man explained.
"Well, is that his doctor in there with him?" Jim asked, giving his best glare.
The guy glanced back at the curtain and sighed. "No, that was Shelly Johnson. She's an intern in the Neuro Department."
"Neurology?" Jim repeated, frowning. "Who's his doctor? Can I speak with him?"
The man moved over to the large circular desk area and punched something into a computer. "The referring doctor is Dr. Moyer in Neuro. He's an Ortho-Neurologist, but if Shelly is doing the procedure, he probably had an emergency or consult. Look, I'm sure she shouldn't be too much longer."
Jim nodded, not really sure what to do. His attention was drawn to the other side of the curtain and his friend's fast breathing. "Thanks."
Jim walked back around the corner and slipped into the men's room, focusing on Blair's breathing and the voices coming from the room.
"I think we're going to have to sit you up and let you lean over the tray table. Sometimes it's easier that way. The bones in your spine are really close together and I'm having a hard time getting the needle in place, but with you sitting up, it will help. Your muscles will relax more."
Jim could hear Blair's heart speed up a little, but his voice sounded mostly calm when he responded with a simple okay.
Why was Blair getting a spinal tap?
Jim moved back to the waiting room, a little surprised to see the take out bag where he left it, he had forgotten about it. He waited a few minutes, still tuned into the room on the other side of the swinging doors.
The women's voice was reassuring as she spoke and Jim could hear as they repositioned Blair; the rustling of bedclothes and Blair's skin sliding over the padded gurney. He could hear the table being wheeled over and a slight huff of breath as Blair lay his upper body across it.
"Just wrap your arms around the pillows and rest your chin on top."
The steady breathing increased as the minutes passed, sometimes a low humming sound would escape Blair and Jim would shift restlessly in his chair, looking around guiltily as if everyone in the waiting room could tell what he was doing.
"Can you arch your back toward me? Good. There we go." And Jim breathed a sigh of relief along with Blair and the intern. "Now we're going to help you lay on your side. Let us do all the work."
He could hear a small grunt from his partner and the rustling of sheets again as they shifted him onto his side. "Good, now I want you to very slowly straighten your legs out. Good. We've got a good flow. Just relax now, it will take a while to collect the sample."
Jim stood, stretching his legs. He grabbed the bag under the chair and walked to the trash to pitch it, thinking that he had enough time to go to the cafeteria to find something decent, sure that Blair had to be starving by now. It was nearly 2:00 p.m.
He stopped by the reception desk to tell her where he was going in case Blair asked for him, but he figured he had some time before they finished up and more than likely; they would want to keep him for a few hours anyway.
*~*~*
Finally back under the warm blanket, Blair was able to relax. He had shifted carefully over to his left side, because his hips were killing him.
The nurse had washed off his back and put a little bandage over the puncture site. He was relieved to be able to stretch out his legs, but it was a bit uncomfortable on his back, so oddly enough, he found himself curled up in a ball on his left side.
Shelly was still sitting at the table, filling in notes on his chart, but he paid her little attention. Now that the ordeal was over, he felt washed out and just sorta drifted. She told him that she had to show everything to Dr. Moyer and that he would be in to go over the results.
He was just about to drift off sleep when a hand touched his shoulder and he looked up with hooded eyes to see Jim smiling down at him.
"Hey."
"Hey, man." He felt a little disoriented, slowly stretching out his legs and rolling over.
"Are you in any pain?" Jim's question caught him a bit off guard.
He took a full minute to think about it, trying to get the cobwebs out of his brain. Maybe he did fall asleep after all. "Mostly sore. What time is it, man?"
Jim glanced at his watch, than pulled the rolling chair a little closer to the gurney, which was getting more and more uncomfortable. "It's almost four."
"Four?" Yup, fell asleep. "Sorry you had to wait so long. Did anyone say when I could leave?" Blair moved his hips again, grimacing a little with the effort to shift his weight off the sore spot. He really wasn't in a lot of pain, just uncomfortable.
"Don't worry about it, junior. Your doctor hasn't been in yet. But the intern checked on you and said he should be here by five." Jim turned sideways in his chair, reaching for something Blair couldn't see.
"Good, because I want to get outta here and sleep in my own bed." A smile lit his face when Jim lifted a brown bag and bottle of ice tea.
"I've been keeping this on ice for you." Jim stood and pulled the rolling tray table closer, stepping out of the curtained area, he returned a few minutes later with a cup of ice and a lid with a straw.
Blair started to push himself up, but Jim stopped him as a wave of dizziness hit. "Whoa there, Chief. Not a good idea. Let's just keep that noggin of yours on the pillow for a little while longer, huh."
Jim handed Blair the cup and he sipped cautiously, hoping that his stomach didn't decide to rebel. That poppy seed bagel seemed like weeks ago. A turkey on rye, cut in neat quarters was laid out on the tray and a piece was placed in his hand as the cup was taken away. "Eat it slow."
Blair nibbled, taking his time. He managed half the sandwich and a few sips of the tea before giving up.
"That's all you can handle, buddy?"
"Afraid so." A mighty yawn escaped and Blair blushed. "Sorry, man."
"Don't be. Go back to sleep. The doctor will be here soon and then..."
The man in question breezed into the room in a flurry of activity, his intern hot on his heels. "I see you had some dinner, Mr. Sandburg. Do you feel okay, nauseous, headache?"
"Not really," Blair said, peering up from under his blanket. "Mostly tired."
"I hear you had a time of it and I'm sorry." He glanced at Shelly, then at Jim before opening the chart she handed him. "Hmm."
"Hmm?" Blair repeated, looking confused.
"Well. It's what we suspected. Your condition is called Pseudotumor Cerebri. That's what I'm going to diagnose. Your opening pressure was 270. That's not extremely high, but it's above normal." Dr. Moyer closed the chart and handed it back to Shelly. "I suggest you make a follow up visit with Dr. Gordon for next week. She can recheck your eyes then. Sometimes by doing the lumbar puncture, we alleviate the problem. She can prescribe a new prescription for glasses then too."
Blair looked over at Jim, then back to the doctor. "I guess I'm just a bit confused. I mean, what causes this?"
The doctor sighed and crossed his arms. Not a good sign in Blair's book. "We simply don't have the answer to that. The cause is a mystery and it affects each person differently. There are usually the common factors, the headaches in the back of the head, ringing in the ears, dizziness, and visual disturbances. It's usually discovered when an exam of the eye is done. The name literally means false brain tumor. It can have any or all the characteristics, without the actual mass. The disease can vary and it can progress, but based on your numbers and the facts that your symptoms are mild...well, I think you have an excellent prognosis."
Now it seemed it was Jim's turn to be confused, because before Blair could ask his next question, Jim beat him to it.
"Wait a sec here, Doc. Are you saying that you have no idea where this comes from, how to treat it, if..." Blair almost smiled at Jim's facial expression; glad he wasn't on the other end of that particular look.
"Not exactly. This condition is rare. It's mostly found in women of childbearing years, who are overweight. Because it's rare, there haven't been wide studies done, but there are a few experts out there and this can be a very debilitating disease. Unfortunately because the cause is not known, we can only treat the symptoms." Dr. Moyer shifted his feet, looking from Jim and back to Blair.
"Right now, the best course of action is to monitor your eye sight," he explained. "When you go in next week, we may find that since we drained the excessive fluid off, we have alleviated the problem and it may not return. Your eye doctor will follow up with you closely to make sure your eyesight is stable. That's the major problem with this illness...loss of vision. The spinal fluid either over produces or your body is unable to absorb what it does produce and there is nowhere for it to go. That's why you have the pressure headaches and it's the fluid that's compressing your optic nerves."
Blair nodded his head in understanding, but he still needed a why...why now?
"I guess I just don't understand why this is happening now. I mean I think this is a pretty recent development."
"It may very well be. Some people can have this for years and just didn't know what was wrong with them; it's misdiagnosed a lot. In more severe cases, people can be confused, disorientated. They have a problem coping with everyday life due to the headaches or loss of vision, it can be a nasty illness, but you're lucky, your case is mild and may be gone altogether."
Blair still wasn't satisfied, it bugged him and he wondered if he really had this or if maybe it was something else. Maybe the CT had missed something. Maybe he should request an MRI. Jim must have seen the feeling flash across his face, because he beat him to the question.
"Are you sure this is what he has?" he asked. "Should he get a second opinion, maybe have an MRI done?"
Dr. Moyer shifted his attention to Jim. "I'm ninety nine percent sure, but Mr. Sandburg can always seek out a second opinion. An MRI might become an option in the future if we don't see an improvement in his optic nerves. Again, all we can do is treat the symptoms."
"And what would that include?" Blair asked, drawing the focus back to him.
"Well, if we find that nothing has changed with your optic nerves, and that your vision is being compromised, we may put you on medications that will decrease the production of spinal fluid. If you were overweight, we would suggest weight loss, but that's not a problem for you, although I will stress the importance of a balanced diet. You're going to get a list of things to avoid, certain kinds of foods and drinks and excessive amounts of vitamin A has been connected to this illness, so you have to watch the type of vitamins you take. If the medications don't work, we'll try lumbar punctures to drain off the fluid and as a last resort, we can put a shunt in to continuously drain the fluid, but that's usually only necessary in severe cases and I really don't think you're even going to need any medications."
Blair took all the information in, wide-eyed. He should have been happy with the abridged version he got back in the eye doctor's office.
"When can I go home?" he asked after a few silence filled seconds.
The doctor smiled then, taking the chart from Shelly, who had remained silent throughout the whole exchange. "I'm signing your release now. The nurse will come in and take the IV out and you can get dressed, but take it slow and easy. You should go home and lay down. Sleep if you can. Sometimes you can get a headache after an LP and it can last for a few days if you do, so if you even feel like one is coming on, I want you to take the Motrin I'm going to be giving you and lay down, you'll find your head will feel better if you're laying flat. Drink plenty of fluids. Do you have any questions?"
Blair shook his head, just really wanting to get out of there, already picking at the corners of the tape holding the IV in place.
The doctor left, leaving them alone and Blair decided he would try to get up to get dressed. He pushed himself up slowly, smiling when Jim jumped up to help him. "Thanks, man."
He slipped off the side of the gurney and looked around for his clothes. Jim spotted the bag up under the gurney and reached under to get them. "Here ya go, Chief."
Blair took the offered bag and glanced around for a place to change, the nearest bathroom was down the hall, but Blair wasn't sure he wanted to try walking that far. He felt okay standing there, but when he turned his head, he was a little bit dizzy. Nothing major.
"How about I pull the curtain and give you some privacy?" Jim asked
Sounded like a plan to him. "Okay." And that way, he could lean against the bed.
*~*~*
The old blue and white pick up truck thudded over another pothole and Jim glanced over at Blair.
His partner was slouched sideways against the door; his body snug in the groove and his eyes were still closed. He gave no indication that he felt the bumpy pavement, but the shrill of Jim's cell phone snapped his eyes open.
Cursing, Jim pulled the phone from his coat pocket and barked his name into the mouthpiece. The conversation was short, but his instructions were clear.
Sighing, he glanced back at Blair, who was nodding back to sleep. "Sandburg?"
Blair pushed his hair away from his face, shifting in the seat to sit up a little straighter. "Yeah?"
"You think you'll be all right if I drop you off at the loft?" Jim made a quick left, flipping his visor down and turning on his police lights.
Blair seemed to perk up, wincing a little as he turned to look at Jim. "What's going on? Who was on the phone?"
Jim made another left and shouted as a slow moving Metro pulled in front of him. "Come on...get out of the way."
"Jim?"
"Simon," Jim said, softer, realizing he shouldn't be hollering around Blair, that he might have a headache. "They found Hotchkiss' daughter...she's dead."
"I'll go with you." Jim looked at Blair, a protest on his lips, but it didn't come out.
Blair looked tired, haggard really. Jim felt the need to keep his friend close. "Okay, but you're staying in the truck."
*~*~*
Twenty minutes had passed and Jim was still inside the old warehouse. Blair actually stayed in the truck. He felt stiff and just a little dizzy, it would be just his luck to fall on his ass and not be able to get up.
Jim had told him the forensics team had already been through the place and that Simon just wanted him to have a look...just in case. Simon met them at the truck and promised that he would keep an eye on the Sentinel.
A few men came out the door carrying utility boxes and packing up the forensics van. Blair guessed that Jim shouldn't be too much longer. He gingerly reached down to his backpack and pulled out his cell phone.
"Hello? I would like to order an extra large, deep dish." Blair rummaged in his pack, still holding the phone to his ear, searching for his wallet. "Yeah, with everything on top. I'll pick it up in about half an hour. The name's Blair."
After dropping the phone back into his backpack, he checked to make sure he didn't need to stop at the bank machine. It was only a few buildings down from Toni's, but he didn't think he had the energy. He just hoped that Jim was going to be able to join him for dinner.
Five minutes turned to ten and ten to fifteen. Soon the sky turned purple and then shades of dark gray. Blair shifted again, thinking that he might feel better if he could lean a little to his side. It helped the achy feeling in his back to stretch and before he knew it, he was laying on his left side across the seat, his head pillowed in his folded arm, fast asleep.
*~*~*
Jim and Simon walked from the building together. It was just another piece to the puzzle that didn't seem to fit. A crew of city workers had found Jennifer Hotchkiss' body. She had been dead for at least three days, which meant that she was killed around the same time that she went missing.
They would have to wait for the coroner's report, but as far as they could tell, she was strangled to death.
A crime of passion, Jim thought, rubbing his hands over his bristly hair.
Simon stopped as they crossed the parking lot. "Jim?"
"Yes, sir?" Jim looked over his shoulder at the Captain.
"I thought you left Sandburg in the truck." Simon nodded toward the truck and the empty passenger seat.
"I did," Jim said, turning to look for himself. He listened for a second and heard the steady breathing of his sleeping friend. "He's in there." Jim continued walking forward. "He's sleeping."
When they got to the driver's side, he opened the door to find Blair lying across half the seat, his back was against the back of the seat and his rear end was snug against the door, leaving plenty of room for Jim.
"He must be really wiped out, Jim. Go home and get some rest," Simon offered. "We can't do anything more tonight, anyway."
"Thanks, Simon." Jim climbed in, his thigh just rested against the top of Blair's curly head. "He had a rough day. I'll come in early and go over Hotchkiss's files again. We have got to be missing something."
Halfway home, Blair's rumbling stomach woke him, sort of. "Toni's?"
Jim made a u-turn on Chelsea and headed north. "You want pizza, Chief?"
Blair nodded and handed Jim a crumpled up twenty he had in his hand. "I called it in." At least that's what Jim thought he said.
Smiling, he pulled in front of their favorite pizza place and turned off the ignition. "I'll be right back."
Blair started to push himself up, but Jim laid a hand on his head. "Just stay put. The pizza will be fine on the floor. You rest."
Blair nodded and closed his eyes again and Jim quietly closed his door. The pizza was just coming out of the oven and it had the works! Paying the bill, he grabbed a handful of napkins and headed back to the truck, slipping the pizza box onto the floor by Blair's feet.
The rest of the trip home was calm, just the steady sounds of Blair's breathing and the tires on the pavement. It was a sense of security and Jim was glad for it. He realized today that his security, that Blair could be facing a serious illness, but he would find a way for him to deal with it, for them to deal with it.
The loft was dark, but Jim managed to help Blair over to the couch and juggle the pizza box as well. He flipped the lamp on and dropped the box to the coffee table. "You want a soda or something?"
Blair toed off his shoes and struggled for a while with his jacket, as Jim pulled plates from the cabinet and a beer for himself from the fridge.
"Yeah. Do we have any root beer left?" And then, "No...I forgot I'm supposed to avoid caffeine. Do we have any Sprite?" He was finally settled on the couch, with the remote in hand when Jim returned with his plate and drink.
"Here you go, eat up."
Blair held out his hand, accepting the glass and plate. "Thanks, man."
They sat together on the couch, watching TV until Blair finally put his plate aside.
"Something about this whole case bothers me," he said, looking at Jim expectantly.
Jim finished off his beer and gathered their plates. "Only one thing?" he smirked, dumping the trash and rinsing the plates.
Blair craned his neck to see into the kitchen. "I don't like the whole thing, man. But something is going on here and we aren't being given all the details...I mean, tell me how you landed this case to begin with?"
Jim wiped his hands on the dishtowel and flipped off the kitchen light. He checked the front door locks and then sank onto the other end of the couch. "Simon got a call from the brass. Hotchkiss is an old pal of the Mayor's...it's a personal favor. We got the call today that the daughter was missing. I went over to Rainer this morning and talked to her roommates. But you're right. We're not getting the whole story, here. I'm going to see if I can dig a little deeper in the morning."
Jim stood and offered Blair a hand. "How about you get some rest and maybe if you feel up to it, you can see if you can find out anything about Jennifer in the morning."
Jim pulled his friend up and watched as he shuffled to his room. "Night, Jim."
"Goodnight, Buddy."
TBC