Chapter 3
While the ambulance was moving away, Tommy sighed and turned toward the others. When he noticed that a few fans had their cameras on again, a thought hit him suddenly.
"Fuck! We have to call his parents…It's better if they don't learn this on Twitter or on the news," he said, walking back inside the theater to find a phone.
"Oh my god, I feel so bad about it," Sutan confessed when they were all back inside. "I knew he wasn't feeling well…"
"What do you mean?" Monte asked, looking at the dry blood on his hands and t-shirt.
"He fainted when I was with him in the dressing room. But he said he was just tired, I should have known it was worse than that. Gosh, I feel so guilty…"
"Don't worry, Sutan, I'm as guilty as you are," Tommy interrupted, his cell phone in his hand; he had just finished his call with the singer's family. "Adam wasn't feeling good this morning and I didn't say anything."
"It's not your fault guys," Cam assured while they were heading to the band's dressing room. "Adam is a big boy; he is supposed to be able to know what he's doing."
"Yea, but he's Adam Lambert…One of the most stubborn men that I know!" Tommy said, taking off his stage clothes.
"I'm going to the hospital, I won't be able to go to the hotel and wait for news," Monte announced, standing in the doorway. "Does someone want to come with me?"
"Yea, I'm coming," Tommy and Sutan said at the same time.
Cam and Isaac decided to start to pack some of their stuff and to go at the hotel. They knew it wouldn't be really helpful for the entire band to be to the hospital. When the guitarist left the room, he promised to call them when they learned more about Adam's condition. They had a white van and a black SUV at their disposal. Monte, Tommy and Sutan decided to take the SUV, leaving the van to Cam and Isaac. When they drove in front of the theater, they noticed that the security staff had done a pretty good job; there were only about 20 or 30 fans in the street, and the doors of the theater were closed.
"Is it possible to ask for security when we arrived at the hospital?" Lane asked, holding Adam's hand and stroking his hair gently. "If someone learns at which hospital we are heading, we would have a lot of problems!" she added, smiling at the singer who was looking at her, worried. "Don't worry, everything will be okay."
Adam nodded and glanced toward the other woman who seemed to fill out some kind of paper.
"Yes, madam. My co-worker had already called the hospital to tell them that we arrived with Adam. They are taking care of it," the paramedic explained, keeping her eyes on her paper. "Okay…Adam, I would like to ask you a few questions," she added, looking at the singer. "First of all, how do you feel now?"
"The same…my head…it still hurts and… my neck, too…And… I feel dizzy…"he said, slowly. He didn't know if it was because he was weak, but he wasn't able to speak faster, and it was like his brain was working slower than usual.
"It's normal, you probably have a concussion. The doctors will run some tests to see if it's serious. Are you taking any drugs?" she asked, still keeping her eyes on him.
"Hum…no…no drugs…"
"Adam, I'm trying to help you here…you have to tell me the truth," she added, almost severely.
"I swear…I don't take drugs," he said, beginning to get angry. Just because he was a rock star didn't mean that he was necessarily a drug addict. If he hadn't been so weak, he would have probably yelled at her.
"Okay, okay, if you say so…" she said, sighing and shaking her head lightly. Obviously, she wasn't convinced. "Did you drink anything before you passed out…like alcohol or something?" she asked, looking at the singer suspiciously.
"No alcohol…well, I think…I don't remember…But I know…I know I was already feeling weird before the show."
"When you said you were feeling weird, how were you feeling exactly?" she asked again, but this time she didn't look angry anymore; she looked more concerned.
"Hummm…I was really tired and weak…I…I almost passed out a few times since this morning," he explained, still really slowly, glancing toward Lane, shyly. He had the same look as a child who had been caught doing something wrong. When Lane looked back at him, he knew he was in trouble.
"Why didn't you say anything?" the blond woman asked, sounding worried and angry.
"I don't know…I thought…I was just exhausted…" he explained, whining. The ambulance had passed a bump and Adam felt it in his head; the pain was getting worst.
"Any fever in the last few days?" the paramedic asked, still scrawling on the file.
"No…I…I don't…Oh fuck…I'm gonna be sick," he warned, trying to sit up, but he was still strapped to the stretcher.
"Hold on," the paramedic said, unstraping him quickly and turning him on his side. She grabbed a bucket and held it next to him. She was just in time, because the moment the bucket was in front of the singer, he vomited into it.
After about a minute, Adam laid back on the stretcher. Because he had moved fast, his head was spinning again, and his ears were buzzing.
"Mmmm…I think I…I'm gonna pass out again," he said, weakly.
"Shhhh, it's okay…you are going to be okay," Lane assured, stroking his hair again.
The paramedic got closer and leaned forward. She took a look at Adam's eyes with a small flashlight. When she pointed it directly in his eyes, he shifted a little and whined; the brightness of the light was painful.
"Your concussion is probably more serious than I thought," the woman presumed, reaching for her stethoscope and pressing it gently on the singer's rib cage. "For now, I want you to keep still, alright?"
Adam nodded and closed his eyes. He didn't have any problem to stop moving, because he just wanted to sleep. He tried to relax and let himself fall into limbo.
He was hearing unfamiliar voices around him, and he was freezing. He could feel hands on his left arm and suddenly a sharp pain. He opened his eyes and again, the light was too bright. He tried to move his hand to hide his face from the light but a hand pressed firmly on his arm.
"He's back," a female voice informed, closed to him. It was probably the person who was holding him. "It's okay, Adam, calm down...I'm almost done," the voice added, gently.
Adam decided to try to open his eyes again; he wanted to know where he was and who was with him. It took him about a minute to be able to focus. He was apparently at the hospital, in an emergency room, and he could see four other people that he had never seen before, all dressed in pale blue uniforms. He looked at his left arm and could see that the person standing next to him, a young woman with really long brown hair, had inserted the needle of a solute and taped it to keep it in position.
"Adam, you are at the hospital," a man with grey hair asked him, walking closer to him. "I'm Dr. Johnson. How do you feel?"
"What…happened? Where…is…Lane?" he asked, weakly. He noticed that he was speaking and thinking as slow as before and didn't understand why.
"You lost consciousness when you were in the ambulance. You had been out for about 30 minutes," the doctor explained, taking the singer's wrist in his hand to check his pulse. "Lane is just outside; she's talking with the security. I can say that you're fans are really quick; there's already a bunch of them downstairs asking for you," he added when he was done with the pulse. "So, how are you feeling? Any dizziness? Headache? Nauseas?"
"Yea…all of them…" he simply answered. He didn't really want to talk right now; he just wanted to sleep.
"I know you're probably feeling sleepy right now, but you have to stay awake," Dr Johnson demanded like he was reading Adam's mind. "We need to run some tests to understand why you passed out and to know if your concussion is serious."
Adam looked at him a bit disappointed and nodded, even if he was not sure he'd be able to stay awake.
"I had been told that you didn't take drugs…but we took blood samples just to be sure and see if we can discover something that can help."
"You…you don't trust me…"
"It's not that I don't trust you, Adam, it's my job to be sure I know all the factors which can affect your health."
"Fine…" the singer said. He was beginning to be really pissed off.
He kept answering the doctor's questions about how he was feeling before he had passed out on stage, what he drank and ate, for how long he was tired, what were his activities during the last few days, if he had any medical history that could explained his condition…Sometimes, he couldn't remember the answer, but the doctor didn't seem to think that it was strange. A few times, Dr Johnson had to shake him a bit to make sure he didn't fall asleep. After a few minutes, he sent him with a nurse, a young man with short blond hair, to run some tests.
About two hours later, he was brought in a private room; Lane was there, sitting on a couch, waiting for him.
"The doctor will be there soon," the nurse assured, leaving the room.
"Are you okay, honey?" Lane asked, standing up and sitting at Adam's feet on the bed.
"Yea…the nurse gave me something…I feel groggy…but a bit better," he said, looking at the ceiling. "Lane…I'm sorry…I…I should have said something…"
"Yea…well, at least, you'll know better next time," she answered simply. She seemed to be worried but also a bit angry and tired, too. She had to take care of a lot of things and some of them were complicated.
They both stayed silent for a few minutes; Lane looking around and Adam closing his eyes and trying to get some rest. The silence was disturbed when Dr Johnson joined them. He saluted them, and grabbing a chair, he sat down next to the bed.
"I'm sorry, Adam…but I have bad news," the old man said, looking at the singer. "It's more serious than we thought."
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