I took my other stuff off of here for the time being because, well, it's really not all that good. I spent 7 months in the chair myself before I got lucky, and well, I felt this was a story I could tell without being too far out of touch with the subject. With any luck, anyone who liked my other stuff will see it put back on once I tweak it a bit and make it a bit more... good. I hope you enjoy this story and let me know what you think, it'd be greatly appreciated. By the way, I neither own Kim Possible, nor any other trademarked Disney owned intellectual property. Technically, I don't even own all of me anymore.
chapter1
Ron Stoppable awoke and watched as the blood flowed into the machine. His back hurt and his legs felt cold and numb from just below his knees to the tips of his toes. He could feel the twin needles move about under the tape on his skin. He could feel the grittiness of the blood as it travelled from the machine back into his left arm. It was as though someone were pumping him full of minute chunks of crystalized ice wrapped in molten lead. He shifted uncomfortably on the pillow that was under him, trying to be comfortable but only able to stare at the countdown on the machine's readouts and the spinning pump that ran his blood into the drip fed filter. The machine was his life, and he hated it. 'No, it's the chair I really hate. The off/puke green color. The squeeky sound it makes. The little fold up arm tables on either side. The fake leather feel of it. Most of all, I hate the way I can never get comfortable in it. How it makes my lower back knot up and squirm on it's own in ways I can never make anyone understand. How it makes me wake up in time to watch as the sun rises, always right as the sun rises. The chair is here to mock me. To torture me. To make me experience every last second that I have to spend in it.' He started to cry then, to let go of all restraint and weep uncontrollably. 'I don't want to do this anymore. I want to stop, I want to die now. All I have to do is go home and wait. I'm not afraid of death anymore. All I have to do is just stop. Why can't I stop? Why won't you let me stop?'
Bonnie came to check on him, to see if she could comfort the man who held his head in his hands and wept long, racking, heart breaking sobs. "It's ok Ron." She said as she held and rocked him, tears welling up in her own eyes. "Shhhhh. It's all right. Let it out. It's ok." "Sorry. I'm sorry, i am. I'm so sorry. I don't mean to do this, really. It's just, you know?" His arms tightened around her and the emotions flooded out of him. "You quit that, now. you don't have a thing to be sorry about, especially not to me." He sat back then, looking at her through his tear stained eyes and sniffing his runny nose. "I just hate this Bonnie. This place, this life, this, this... this chair." He laughed after the last word came out. "I never thought a piece of furniture would be the bane of my existance, you know?" Bonnie smiled at him, a pain filled smile of concern and worry. She looked over at the machine. "Ron, you've got about fifteen minutes left, but I'm going to go ahead and unhook you now. It sounds to me like you've done about all you can today. Relax and I'll be back in a second." He lay back then, his emotions fluctuating from relief to guilt over coming off the machine early. "Ok Bonnie. You're the nurse, after all."
It always hurt when the needles came out, always. It was like being stabbed in reverse. The gauze and tape and bandages were next, tight against his skin. He got up out of the hateful chair then, and sat right back down as the wave of dizziness overtook him. It was like fizzy bubbles travelled up from his shoulder blades to the top of his head and all he could do was pray he fell correctly as up, down and all directions in between exchanged places. "Give it a few minutes Ron. Getting up so soon is bound to take it out of you. You just rest and I'll help you over to the scale when you think you can walk. He waved off her offer of help when he arose a few seconds later and concentrated on maintaining his balance enough to walk to the small scale set in the floor. "Seventy nine point three kilos Bonnie." "Ok Ron. That's pretty good, we seem to be able to get the excess fluid out with little resistance. Next time we'll try for a slower pull, make it so you're not quite so wiped when you come off." "That'd be great Bonnie." Ron excused himself to the restroom. as the door locked, he sank down to feel the cold of the floor against his face. after a minute or so, he unsteadily got up, his head feeling better and his mind not quite so sluggish, and sat on the bowl to releive the small residual pressure on his bladder. When he came out, he found his things had been put in his duffel bag, his blanket folded up and his squeeze ball laying on top. He picked up the bag and hugged Bonnie once more and went into the foyer to wait on his ride. Bonnie watched as he got in the car soon after it pulled up and told the charge nurse. "Michele, I'm going out back for a smoke break." She closed the door to the parking lot behind the building, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, took a deep drag and let it out quickly. Then she too buried her face in her hand and cried hard, bitter tears.
The passenger seat of the car was the antithesis of the chair. In it, Ron could fall asleep without the slightest problem. Kim looked over at her friend as he slept. 'I hate this. Look at him. He's so, so... weak. Helpless. Vulnerable. It's not right.' She couldn't help but feel guilt, not over anything specific, just the guilt that there was nothing she could do. 'I am guilty.' She thought. 'I should have seen it, I should have known something was wrong. I almost lost him.' As they reached his house, Ron woke up groggily. Kim made him lean on her as she carried his bag and helped him into his room. He collapsed on the bed, exhausted beyond measure. As she started to take his shoes off and fetch a blanket to cover him with, He spoke in that not quite there voice he always had after a session. "K.P.,... Kim. I, I love you, and I'm sorry. Sorry I did this to you." He fell asleep before the final word was even out of his mouth. "I love you too Ron. I love you too."