Author's Note:  Okay, so I don't know Dave's mom's first name.  Sorry.  It'll be okay, though…  Also, behold my knowledge…  You'll see.

Oh, one last thing.  I don't want to be like one of those authors who require a certain number of reviews before posting another chapter, but you know… Reviews really inspire me to write longer chapters and post them quicker!  ^_^  I'm not saying anything, just suggesting… come on, aspiring author's need comments!!!  I'm so lonely over here!

And of course, visit my webpage at http://members.tripod.com/shorty_est_1986/index.htm.  It'll be worth your while, and I'll be posting my comedy troupe's Public Access Channel Page soon.  Long live the Kids in the Hall!!!!!!!!!

Lose Yourself

Chapter 3

*~ Syren ~*

* ~ *

She felt at peace amidst the balloons, flowers, and cards that decorated the walls all around his hospital bed.  Of course, a third of everything had been from her, and more was on the way.  Her demeanor was much calmer than it had been for quite a while, and it had been a week since the last time she cried.  Her hopes had ascended into knowingness when he had woken up for the first time.  It had only been for a few minutes before he slipped back into deep unconsciousness, but within those few minutes, her belief in him had soared.  Though he didn't look it, she knew that he was the strongest man she knew, and that soon he'd wake up again, and she'd be there to help him along the way.

Keeping her mind away from the possibilities the doctor had given, the ones she chose not to believe, was hard, but doable.  Day after day, she visited, offering the nurses help to the point of annoyance, and doing little things that she was sure made him comfortable, conscious or not.  Surprisingly, he didn't grow much facial hair, reminding her of his meek boyishness, so she didn't have to shave him all too much.  But that was just another reason to get closer, to keep reality away. 

That was another obstacle she had to overcome; reality of the situation of her first visit to WNYX a few years ago.  When he was still hers, intentionally or not, and when they were still happy.  But now, save for a few, she was all he had left, and for that tiny morsel of reality, she was grateful.  For all that the Gods had taken away, they had left just one little gift, and it was for her.

"Nancy dear, visiting hours are just about over."  Nancy offered a small smile in the direction of the soothing voice of Mrs. Nelson, and, reluctantly, pushed back her chair.  Leaning over to set a light kiss on Dave's forehead, she stepped back so his mother could do the same.  With a short, un-returnable wave, she followed Mrs. Nelson out of the bleach-white room, flicking the light switch so Dave could slumber in peace. 

* ~ *

            Lisa couldn't help the small laugh that escaped as she watched Mr. James' attempts of making his hotel suite, connected with hers by a conjoining door, seem like his recently-made home.  Out of one of his many suitcases, he pulled out frames holding pictures of his sightseeing around the world and, after hammering a few nails in the walls, hung them.  She could just picture the look on the hotel-owner's face when he found the little redecorating notions Jimmy had left.  A few stuffed animals, what Lisa could guess were actually real, donned the corners of the expensive suite, and finally, a few logs of wood were scattered around the floor, representing the cabin itself.

            "I'm surprised you got the best suite in the—" Lisa caught herself.  The extravagantly rich man could afford anything, she remembered, and only the best.  To top it off, the hotel was only a few miles away from the hospital where Dave was staying.  "Jimmy, what hospital is—"?

            "None other than the best hospital in New York," he answered, pulling a bottle of wine out of the rather large mini-bar.  "NYCH, New York City Hospital."  Lisa almost slapped herself at the irony.  "When do you want to head out?"

            Eyeing the relatively inviting bottle in Jimmy's hand, Lisa figured she should settle her nerves first.  Selecting two fine tumblers from the bar's overhead cabinet, she offered them to Jimmy, who in turn poured the dark liquid for both of them.  Taking the whole of it down in one swig, Lisa wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, ignoring the unladylike attribute, then held out her glass for a refill.  Resting her forehead in her hand, she closed her eyes, enjoying the aroma of the drink in her hand.  It was comforting somewhat, in comparison to everything else, she guessed.  She was still questioning herself whether or not it was a good idea to come all the way out to New York.  It wasn't like she'd make much of a difference, but as Jimmy had put it the night before without any words, it was a given.  It felt right to come back to the busy city; New Hampshire would have to wait.

            Noticing Lisa's crestfallen bearing, Jimmy agreed with her.  "Too soon?"

            "For what?" she replied, snapping out of her reverie.  "To go see him?  Why would it be too soon?  I mean, it's not like he'll be able to greet us or anything, so why would it be awkward…?"  Her voice trailed off, her eyes squeezed shut for a moment.  "I just… I just can't see him like that."

            Laying his arm around her quivering shoulders, Mr. James hugged the younger woman gently.  He understood how hard it was for her, but it would be hard for everyone.  If Dave's own mother could face the truth, that her own son might not wake to see another day, then Lisa would just have to pull herself together. 

            "Reality can be a kick in the ass.  Trust me on that one."  He pulled her closer.  "But it's something we all have to face sooner or later.  And for Dave… it's a little sooner than he deserves."

* ~ *

            If the calendar was correct, and Mrs. Nelson hated to admit that it, without a doubt, was, her son had been kept at NYCH for just about a month and a half.  A month and a half of heartache and waiting.  The day he had fallen unconscious in his office, his secretary had called an ambulance, and he was admitted to the hospital.  Thanks to the physicians, he had gained consciousness that evening, and had been allowed to give her a call and let her know of the incidents that had taken place over the past few months.  Angry at her son for not letting her know of any of it sooner, Mrs. Nelson had booked a trip from Wisconsin to New York in a few days time.  Unfortunately, due to recent storms and delays, those few days had been postponed to nearly a month.  She had missed his waking not long ago, but had gotten the word-by-word playback from Nancy the day she arrived.  He had woken for nearly five minutes, dazed and confused, then, before any assistance could arrive to keep him vital, he slipped away once more.

            Even now, she felt as if she were smothering the boy.  The very week he had submitted to a bit of depression, Mr. Nelson had fallen to a heart attack.  His father had been subject to Type 2 Diabetes.  It had hit Dave hard, and he had refused to speak to his own mother for a time; instead, he threw himself into his work.  Now, after learning the verdict of her son's condition, she didn't know what to do with herself.  He was all she had left, and he was gradually slipping out of her grasp.

            A nurse, coming in to check David's vitals, cut the tired mother's train of thought.  Offering a reassuring smile, the burly, overweight nurse tapped the monitor.  "He's doing well, Mrs. Nelson."

            "Any sign of actual improvement?" Dave's mother wondered aloud, her eyes never breaking from her son.  Scanning the clipboard she held as she wrote out the evening's statistics, the nurse shook her head. 

            "He seems to be at the same point as yesterday, ma'am.  No improvement, but no decline."  Striding over to the woman's side, she rested a hand on her shoulder.  "Ma'am, Nancy is here.  Would you like me to send her in?"

            Nodding, Mrs. Nelson gave her the ok, rising to her feet.  Just as soon as the nurse left, the once-bubbly young lady floated in.  Giving her son's ex a heartfelt smile, she held out her arms, the two embracing warmly.

            "I brought you some dinner, Patricia," Nancy offered, presenting the wicker basket she held on her arm.  "You've been here the whole day, haven't you?"

            Taking her seat again, Patricia pulled up the hospital tray on wheels and set it between her and the chair Nancy had occupied.  "Nothing else is important.  But how did you manage to sneak this food up here?"

            Holding back a sigh, Nancy answered.  "The patient I'm visiting isn't responding, so I can't exactly disrupt their strict hospital diet."  Nancy changed the subject.  "Well, I got off work early, so I stopped by that restaurant down Third Street and got us a little something."

            "That's awfully sweet of you, dear," Mrs. Nelson added, taking the paper plate the younger woman was handing to her.  "I appreciate everything you've done."

            Blushing, Nancy looked over at the immobile man.  "I'd gladly do anything…"

            "Mrs. Nelson…" The heavily built nurse stood in the doorway, eyeing the illegal food that was being laid out, but dismissing it.  "There are two more visitors in the lobby wanting to come up.  Shall I send them in?"

            Puzzled, Patricia searched her memory.  "No one else has come up from Wisconsin since the last batch…  Who is it?"

            "The man referred to the both of them as the 'Jimmy Party,'" she answered, her statement more of a question.  Grinning, Mrs. Nelson agreed to have them up.  It had been awhile since the last time she saw Jimmy, even though they had kept in touch with the ritualistic phone calls they made to each other.  But whom had he brought with him?

            "Patricia, it's good to see you," Mr. James announced as he walked into the room, pulling the now standing woman into a hug.  Releasing her, he acknowledged Nancy with a smile, remembering vaguely the boy's ex-girlfriend from Wisconsin.

            "So you finally made it up to New York?" Mrs. Nelson interrogated, crossing her arms with a chuckle.  "Who'd you bring with you?"

            Holding a beat, Jimmy replied.  "A good friend of Dave's is all.  She's out in the hall at the moment, chatting with the doctor, I do believe."

            At the word 'she,' Nancy's grip on the arms of her chair tightened.  Silently, she prayed it wasn't who she thought it was.

* ~ *

            Waiting in the lobby, the minutes seemed like hours, the secretary on hold with the line upstairs.  Lisa was just about to bang her head against the counter when finally, the blond woman told them to go on up to room 722 on the third floor.  Thanking her, Mr. James led the way to the elevator, punched in the buttons, and watched as the metal doors slid shut, as if to say there wasn't any turning back.

            "What am I so nervous about?" Lisa muttered under her breath, leaning against the mirrored wall.  Jimmy didn't answer, not knowing what to say.  Instead, he kept his eyes on the digital chart above the doors, watching the numbers steadily increase.  When the doors slid open, they were welcomed by the musty odor stereotypical of a hospital.  The walls were blanched and somewhat blinding, causing them to squint at first sight.  The lobby on this floor was much like the main one on the first floor, save a bit smaller.  A rather rotund woman waved them over, asking their names, then pointed them in the right direction.  Thanking her, the two headed down the narrow hallway, keeping their eyes peeled for the room number.

            Without thought, Lisa began straying behind Jimmy, her eyes casting into the rooms they passed.  Each one held such sadness; a crying wife over her husband, a child with a broken leg, a lonely senior citizen, staring blankly out the window.  With each door she walked by, the slower her pace grew.  Her feet felt so heavy, as if weights were attached to her ankles, but ropes were tired around her wrists, dragging her unwillingly forward.  Looking up, she caught a glimpse of the number on the wall beside her: 722.  When she tried reaching for the handle, her hand gripped her pants instead, and her body rested itself solidly against the door.

            "Excuse me, miss," a voice careened itself into Lisa's thoughts, drawing her attention away from the nervousness she felt.  Lifting her chin, she acknowledged a lanky man standing before her, most possible in his early fifties with graying hair and large glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.  He extended a hand to her, which she awkwardly took and shook.

            "I assume you're here to see Mr. Nelson?" he began, flipping through his chart attached to the clipboard the nurse had used earlier.  Agreeing, Lisa attempted to peek at the chart, but withdrew, her anxiety getting the best of her.  Grinning politely, the doctor continued.

            "Well if you have any questions, my name is Dr. Cohen.  I was just on my way in to check his insulin level…" Lisa's expression contorted at his words.

            "Uh… why would he need insulin injections?"  The doctor met her gaze, realization washing over him.

            "You haven't been informed of Mr. Nelson's condition, then?" he assumed once again, pushing his glasses more firmly against his nose.  Shaking her head, Lisa crossed her arms in apprehension. 

            "He's in a coma, I know," she started, her throat clenching as she spoke.  The physician took a breath, glancing through the diagrams once more before meeting her eyes.

            "I'm afraid he's been diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes, which makes him insulin-dependent."

            The room, at this point, began to spin, and the air grew thin.  Again, Lisa's body fell roughly against the door behind her, her hand flying to her mouth.  She felt a hand on her shoulder, the doctor's, but she shook it off, immediately apologizing for her rudeness.  Rubbing her eyes, she straightened, running a hand through her hair.  "But… he's in his thirties…  I mean, isn't Type 1 Diabetes 'Juvenile Diabetes'?"

            Agreeing, the doctor took his glasses into his hands.  "Yes, the term 'Juvenile Diabetes' is correct.  But there have been cases of older people acquiring this disease."  Seeing her confusion, he continued.  "Type 1 Diabetes is very rare, in comparison to Type 2.  Only around five to ten percent of diabetics have this form and, like you said, it usually effects youths.  There have been some cases, though, and Mr. Nelson is one of the few."

            "Why couldn't we have seen this coming?" she wondered out loud, her arms crossing defensively in front of her once again. 

            The doctor sighed.  "That's what's terrible about this disease.  It's like an onslaught, if you will.  Symptoms can appear out of nowhere, even after feeling relatively healthy for the majority of your life.  These symptoms develop more rapidly and with more severity than that of Type 2 diabetics.  Mr. Nelson had been experiencing some indications of this, such as extreme tiredness, blurred vision, weight loss, and then finally, he fell unconscious."  Pausing, he gave her a sympathetic look.  "He waited so long before reporting these and getting treatment, ma'am.  His blood glucose levels rose very high, and his body began breaking down body fat for energy at an advanced pace.  This resulted in his extensive weight loss, and produced ketones, which build up in the blood.  This is called Ketoacidosis, which causes the body to become acidic.  And since he was untreated, it lead to his present coma."

            Digesting the information, Lisa could feel wetness at her eyes, which she quickly brushed away.  It explained Matthew's rambling of Dave's not feeling well over the past few months; and could it possibly be why Dave thought it was 'a big mistake' for them all to leave New York?  He must have known something wasn't right with him…

            When she looked up, the doctor had already headed inside Dave's room, leaving her to settle her mind.  The more the veracity of the situation sunk in, the more nauseous she felt, as well as the more tears that stung her eyes.  Putting her hands to her temples and massaging lightly, she groaned, coming to a decision.  With one last glance towards the closed door separating her and her loved one, she trotted down the hall towards the elevator.

* ~ *

(Another) Author's Note:  This was a very hard chapter for me, and from now on, this story won't be easy for me to write.  (so if you're wondering why I know so much… You have to be aware of what your genetics carry, in case the same fate comes upon you). I write this story partially to keep my readers informed of such consequences. Please, if you have family history in this or not, be attentive to such things as diabetes or etc., because if you are aware, you can prevent future tragedies. And to my family who are now with the Gods, my heart is with you. Blessed be.