Author's Note:  Oh my dear Gods… do you hate me?  I pray I haven't lost any of my audience, but I've got my reasons.  My colorguard was eligible for state finals, and we've spent every waking moment practicing.  It wasn't in vain, though: we placed ninth in the state of Michigan for Flight 1.  I'm proud… but a bit forlorn, because I had lost my commitment to my writing.  But never fear, for I am here, alive and well and updating.  I offer cookies in apologies… I promise they are not drugged.  :D

I'd like to send out a heartfelt thank you to those who had not lost faith in me.  For example, thedtree (maya_thewillowtree@hotmail.com), Carrie, and, once again, Meg, as well as others, all reviewed (even though I hadn't updated in awhile), and motivated me (through heartfelt – and sometimes humorous – pleading and well-wishes) to finally sit down and perfect this chapter.  So now, it is ready and willing to be posted… so I dedicate this to all of you who kept their faith in me and stuck with me through my writer's block (actually… more like a writer's cramp, 'cause… hm…)

Again, visit my site at http://members.tripod.com/shorty_est_1986/

I've got this story posted there, too, and there, I'll be posting special tidbits in relation to this story (I'm not sure what, yet…  Maybe like foreshadowing for upcoming chapters, so you, the reader, can give your own opinions on how it should go.)

Lose Yourself

Chapter 6

*~ Syren ~*

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Last Chapter:  The New Hampshire crew, though naughty snooping (tsk tsk) finally figure out the truth behind Lisa and Jimmy's 'trip.'  Mrs. Nelson and Lisa reconcile, and during her visit at Dave's bedside, a revelation happens, and Dave returns to the conscious world.  Lastly, I made a bad pun…  heh heh, Kids in the Hall… *tear tear*  Yeah, so I thought it was funny!

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"She's been in there for quite a while, hasn't she," Nancy muttered to herself, her arms crossed defensively against her chest.  Sure, she was pouting and acting childish, but one could never be too careful, right?  At least, she admitted to herself, she wasn't making death threats.  She was beyond that now.  All she wanted was happiness.  Thank goodness Jimmy was prone to selective hearing, and Mrs. Nelson was a compulsive chatter, at least when it came to Mr. James, so they had not heard her.  Nancy couldn't help glancing impatiently back and forth between the two elders and Dave's door, monotonously counting the minutes that passed.

At long last, or what could have been only ten minutes, she could see Lisa through the small window of the door, her head bowed against its frame.  "What, did she forget how to open a door?" Nancy thought to herself derisively.  She immediately regretted her opinions when she saw the woman wiping at her cheeks; clearly she had been crying.  Lisa didn't seem like a crier, or an emotional person at all, but instead, like when Nancy had brought her a plain donut to 'describe their personalities' on her first visit to WNYX, an impassive, characterless person.  And that was only the first impression.  Lisa had turned out to be a liar, having bent the truth about her relationship with Dave Nelson, and a neurotic.  True, she had to blame herself for that part, but still.  She also reminded Nancy of a nymphomaniac, but never would she say this to her face.  Seeing that woman cry made Nancy's ill feelings melt away, and she no longer saw her as competition.  Now, she was a partner in grief.  

When Lisa finally pushed the door open, Nancy broke from the group to meet her, hoping to get a word of comfort in.  She stopped abruptly when Lisa did, confused by the look of shock that suddenly washed over Lisa's features.  The quietness broke by her shouts for help, and Nancy's face drained of blood.  What could have gone wrong in a mere ten minutes?  Did Dave's heart monitor go still?  Had he stopped breathing?

Within seconds, two male nurses and one doctor were at Lisa's side, and with a brief exchange of words that Nancy couldn't make out, they hurried into room 722, leaving Lisa to clutch her mouth in stagger.

The feeling rushing to her legs once more, Nancy ran to the room, Lisa immediately after her.  Their eyes were unbelieving.  It took both nurses to hold Dave back, despite his supposed weakness, as the doctor tried to stabilize his breathing.  Dave had pulled out every tube that had been connected to him, and was now clutching at the IV's, at the same time trying to figure out where the hell he was.

"He's confused doctor," one nurse called out.  "Amnesia?"

The doctor answered.  "No, it's typical for a coma-induced patient to be confused of his whereabouts.  Administer a slight sedative."  Once the needle had entered his arm, which was difficult against his writhing, Dave calmed, his eyes blanking and his body going limp.

Despite Lisa's constraining hands on her shoulders, Nancy shot forward, intending to strangle either of the nurses.  "Why the hell did you do that?  He was awake, God-dammit!  He was awake!"  Patricia laced her arms around the girl's body and, hoping to ease her abrupt hysteria, led her out of the room.  Jimmy guided Lisa, who had simply watched on in stun and weariness, after them.  The two girls, one choking on her own tears and the other one detached, stood beside each other, the elders looking on in worry.

"My son," Patricia spoke to no one in particular, her face raised to the ceiling in prayer.

Two more hours passed before the doctor who had restrained Dave came to talk to the four.  He held no clipboard, nor had an encouraging expression on his face.

Standing, Patricia pulled Jimmy alongside her.  "Doctor…?"

"Doctor Cohen, ma'am."  He answered, bowing his head momentarily in respect.  "No need to worry, your son is stable and responsive; I believe the sedative we applied has just about worn off."  Noticing Mrs. Nelson's questioning look, he explained.  "We had to administer the mild tranquilizer so we could treat him and put his IV's back in, as well for his own safety.  He is breathing on his own, so he does not need the respirator for the time being."

"Tell me the bad news, doctor," Patricia insisted, her voice unwavering.  Nodding, he continued.

"Your son is not quite at an advanced state of Type 1 diabetes, but he is borderline.  In the advanced state, he is more susceptible when it comes to illness, and the symptoms are more profound.  At that state, it is difficult to treat the symptoms, but not impossible."

"What are you telling me?" her eyes were hard, and no tears dared to show. 

"He is prone to losing his eyesight.  His degree of sight has lowered a bit, but it is nothing drastic as of yet.  There are surgeries to remedy this problem before it increases.  Also, he may have trouble walking; it's normal for diabetics to be easily weakened or tired, and occasionally he may get severe pain or lose feeling in his legs."

Taking in the information, Jimmy was amazed at how fearless Patricia seemed upon hearing the extent.  Still, she persisted.  "Earlier you spoke of confusion…?"

"Yes," Cohen replied.  "Confusion is associated with the disease.  Also, when coming out of a coma, there is a risk the patient may face amnesia or slight memory loss, let alone mild confusion."  He patted her shoulder.  "No need to worry over that.  Your son shows no sign of any extent to memory loss.  Just let him adapt to his surroundings and whatnot; give him time to focus when speaking with him.  Don't be surprised if he forgets a few names once in a while."

All the while, Lisa stared straight ahead in her seat, her mentality reeling from the statistics the doctor was spewing.  She didn't even notice when Patricia was allowed to enter Dave's room, or when Jimmy retook his seat beside her.  She didn't feel his arm rest across the back of her seat and she didn't hear his reassuring words.  All she saw was the blindingly white wall in front of her, and all she heard was the piercing buzz in her ear.  And what she felt was… someone pinching her.

Jumping, she clutched her arm, her eyes locking on Nancy who sat on the other side of her.  Her face wasn't apologetic, but neither was it amused.  Her tears having dried and subsided, she simply placed her hand on top of Lisa's and bowed her head.  

The remaining three lost track of time after the first few minutes Patricia was gone.  She had been warned that her son wouldn't be at a full 100 percent… that he may not be 'himself.'  She didn't care, of course, and the nurse had ushered her into the room that had for so long been a crypt.

Nancy had fallen asleep, her head hanging forward and her arms crossed; she would feel that in the morning.  Having excused himself to the bathroom, Lisa could only suspect that Jimmy had either lost his way, or was now flirting with a nurse.  She briefly wondered if his quest for a potential wife would ever end… and how being so close to Dave's widowed mother was affecting him.  He had never bothered to hide that he had a crush for the woman, and now, in the hard times she was facing, one couldn't ask for a better time to draw in even closer… though it seemed to be a heartless attempt.  Jimmy wasn't like that…

Lisa's staring contest with the wall was becoming rather tiresome, and her head was pounding with the same beat as her heart.  For quite some time now, she had been a victim to incredible headaches, and of her abundant supply of pain relievers, none worked.  Pressing on her eyeballs, she leaned back in her chair, groaning at the pressure against her skull.

Quick footsteps echoed in the halls, where Patricia was making her way back to the lobby.  Eyeing her, Lisa stood to meet her, questioning the defeated look Mrs. Nelson held on her face.  She stepped aside to offer Patricia her seat, but she shook her head shortly, grabbing her coat that hung on the back of one of the chairs.  Understanding, Lisa's eyebrows knitted together.

"They said that he wouldn't be himself…"

"Yet…" Patricia interrupted shortly.  "He's not himself yet."  Slipping on her jacket, she embraced the younger woman, giving her thanks before continuing her rapid pace towards the elevator.  Glancing down, Lisa ran her fingertips along her shoulder, wiping away the tears Patricia had shed.

Giving one last look towards Nancy, still quietly snoring, Lisa continued the way Patricia had came, suddenly fearing the room she had only visited a few times.  The heavy feeling she felt on her first trip down the hall returned to her feet; anchors tied to her ankles.  Yet she willed herself onward, her heart rate speeding up to that of a cat's, beating as though it would explode out of her chest.

The door was left open about an inch, and she could see a dim light spilling out of the shadows within the room.  Pushing the door open the rest of the way, she peeked inside before entering, seeing that the light came from the overhead lamp above Dave's bed.  Reluctantly, Lisa shut the door behind her, slowly lifting her eyes to rest on Dave's prone form.  She knew he was awake, yet his eyes were still shut, as though it was too much of an effort for him to open them, or he wished to return to the peace of the lifeless comatose dimension.  She briefly wondered what it was like to be in a coma, and if her expectations of his hearing her words from earlier were true.

"Dave…" It seemed hard to form words.  He turned his head towards the sound, but his eyes remained closed.  This little bit of acknowledgment was enough to draw Lisa to his side.

"How are y--…." Her language escaped her at the sight.  Dave's arms were tightly bound with leather bindings, often used when mentally ill patients were treated in the hospital, to the bed's support railings.  His wrists were red and peeling from his obvious struggle, and the rough rawhide was damp with crimson blood.  From lack of circulation, his hands were white and limp, curled into loose fists.

"I can't believe they did this to you," Lisa exclaimed, immediately undoing the confines.  She understood the need to restrain him at his first waking, but in his present condition, Dave couldn't have possibly been strong enough to resist three men, and a sedative on top of that.  But if it had been needed, was it necessary to do it so tightly?  What baffled her most, though, was that his mother hadn't had the common sense to untie her son during her visit.

Tossing aside the buckles, Lisa turned back to Dave.  "Why didn't your mother do anything about this, Dave?"

His face unemotional, Dave finally forced his eyes open.  Awkwardly, he stared for a long moment at Lisa, as if she were a stranger.  "My mother…?"

Lisa was taken aback by the frailness of his voice.  "The woman who was with you before me."

As if the blatancy had suddenly hit him, Dave frowned, nodding his head.  "That's right, that's right…"  He resumed staring at her, his eyes straining in confusion.  Pain welled in Lisa's stomach, the doctor's words rushing into her mind.  It was normal for him to be a bit confused in his condition, but the doctor had said that Dave didn't have any memory loss.  So why was it so hard for him?

"Come on Dave, you know me…" she murmured, reaching out to touch his arm.  He flinched as she accidentally grazed his wrist's open wound, and she pulled her hand back abruptly, wringing her fingers together in her lap.  A pleading look crossed her expression as she gazed into his eyes, searching for some familiarity.  The brilliant blue they had once been had dimmed, not enough to startle her, but enough to show the pain Dave had gone through.  They seemed distant, but the longer she stared, the more she recognized; the more Dave returned.

"It's Lisa, Dave," she continued, her voice rising a bit in pleading frustration.  A slight frown marring his features, Dave said nothing.  Again, Lisa clutched his forearm, minding not to touch the rawness of his wrists.  "Say it's Lisa, Dave.  Say it's Lisa…"

"It's Lisa…" Dave answered, his own voice strengthening.  "Lisa…"

Seeing in his eyes that he meant it, that he recognized her, Lisa released a long-held, shaken breath and wrapped her arms around the man's neck.  She choked back a relieved sob when she felt his hands on her back, returning her hug.  "Thank God you're back, Dave…"

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Author's Note:  Ooooooooooooh!  That even made me cry, and that's just dumb.  Oh!  And I just got a degu, too.  It's a rodent, and my friend thinks it's kind of like a chinchilla, but who knows.  I named it Shmoo, like "The Taming of the Shmoo."  (Ha ha, I know, another bad pun.  My apologies to Sir Shakespeare).  So if anyone has any advice on how to care for it, go ahead and shoot.

Oh yeah, and WOOOOOO!  I've got a DATE!  I'm so happy…  We're gonna go see "The Ring."  I'm scurred.  Ha ha.