DISCLAIMER: They're not my characters, but, um, I don't have any money, so
honestly? It's not worth suing me.
RATING: PG
FEEDBACK: I get warm fuzzy feelings when I get feedback.
SUMMARY: "You can tell your wife is panicked when she's rattling off medical terminology at full speed."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first in a series about what happens when Bartlet discovers he has secondary progressive. Consider this the prologue.
THANKS: To Elizabeth, for beta-ing and rocking in the process, and to www.mult-sclerosis.org for helping me understand MS a bit better.
IF THE STARS STILL SILENTLY BLESS YOU (PROLOGUE)
Secondary progressive. Secondary progressive. The awful words almost have a rhythm. They warned it might happen, back when I was first diagnosed. Why didn't I believe them?
I woke up this morning, and I couldn't remember what very important fact I was just going to share with Abbey. Normally, I wouldn't be this alarmed, but this has been going on for a long time.
I've been thinking about last week.
****
Charlie came in, asking me if I wanted to go home.
"Charlie, did you read the briefing on--" and this is when I panicked. What was I about to say? I had just had it.
"Sir, are you okay?" I saw his brows furrow worriedly.
"Yeah, I'm just--" Then I was frustrated and confused. "Listen, did you do what you were supposed to do earlier today?"
"Sir, should I call a doctor?"
"No, I'm fine." And then I remembered suddenly. "Yeah, did you read the briefing on HR-4668?
"Yes. Sir--"
"Don't worry about it, Charlie." My words must have come out a lot harsher than I'd meant it to, because Charlie gives me an injured look before turning away. I didn't mean to, but I was tired. And frustrated with myself.
****
And then I jar myself back to the present. My wife is up, taking off her robe and yawning. "Hey, sweetie," she says.
"Hi. You're up early."
"The call woke me."
"Sorry."
"Don't worry about it."
"Okay." I sit up in bed and wince. It's getting harder and harder for me to get up as each day passes.
"When are you going to see the doctor?" she asks, pulling a sweatshirt on over her bra. She's traveling for a few days. For the next week or so, I'll lose her to Argentina. Or Guatemala. Or whichever South American country has demanded her attention.
"I don't know."
"Don't put this off, Jed. Remember what the doctor said." She's got this face on, as if she's trying to be cheerful. But I've been married to her for thirty-something years. I can tell when she's worried.
"I don't have time."
"Jed--"
I get out of bed and cross over to hug her. As I hold her in my arms, I put a gentle hand on her head. "I'll be okay."
Then she gives me this look. "If anything happens, call me, okay?"
"You know I will, babe."
****
I find that work throughout the day is more fatiguing than usual. Charlie's not the only one who's expressed concern.
Josh, for example, keeps asking me if he needs to repeat information. God, I must look really zoned out. CJ has offered to write down my briefing, and Leo has suggested I stay out of the Sit Room. I know they're right, but I have a job to do, right?
At the end of the day, Charlie comes back. "Is there anything I can do, sir?"
"No, I'm fine." Now I just feel irritated. I know all of my staff's intentions are good, but they're driving me nuts. I am a grown adult, after all.
Scrap that, I'm the President of the United States.
"Sir--"
"Charlie, when Zoey was young she used to have this walk my wife used the call the 'slump walk.'"
Charlie is looking confused but I plow right on. "She used to drag her feet on the ground, bending forward, and she'd stare at us with this really glazed over look."
Suddenly, he stares back at me as if he understands. Really, you can't get anything past him. "Your MS is flaring up."
"Yes."
"It's just flaring up now, right? It's not--"
"Secondary progressive? Yeah, we think so. It's been going on for awhile now. I'm going to call the doctor and if I'm diagnosed I would imagine I onlyhave so long before I have to step down."
There's a long pause while Charlie tries to grasp this, and I look down at my papers I've been given throughout the day. Quietly, he says, "You should really stay up on the tax reform bill. Josh has been going nuts." And then he slips out slowly, shutting the door behind him.
****
"Dad!" Zoey beams when she comes into my room. She's just flown back from Manchester. A few months after the kidnapping, she's doing fine.
"How're you doing, sweetie?" I say,
"I'm doing fine. I missed you, Dad. Elizabeth has been driving me crazy. She came up to Manchester for awhile, too, and she's been looking over me like a mother hen. Honestly, I don't need Mom." She laughs. God, it feels good to hear her laugh. "Mom's worried about you," she says, suddenly looking serious.
"Well, the day Mom stops being worried about me is the day we should all be worried," I laugh. "From about the second day we were married: Jed, be careful before you cross the street..."
Zoey laughs again, and does a perfect impression of her mother. "Be careful out there, honey, and remember, yell 'fire', not 'help', if someone is chasing you."
We both laugh at that, and then we're both quiet. Zoey's last statement has hit a little too close to home for comfort.
"I've been thinking, Dad," she says, leaning her head against my shoulder. "You know how Jean-Paul is a complete jerk?"
Like she has to tell me twice. "Yeah."
"Well, I was thinking about forgiving him."
"You mean publicly? Send a message to France saying we harbor no grudges against their country?"
"No, that's your job," she says. "Head of state and all that."
"Okay. What do you mean?"
"Just me and him, maybe a secret service man or two, in a room, and I can tell him I don't hate him."
"That's wonderful of you, honey," I say, my heart swelling with pride. I've raised my children right.
"Not because I want to, Dad," she says, sighing heavily. "It's because I keep thinking about church although I haven't gone in a long time."
That's something that's always bothered me about my children, but there's not much I can do; they're grown women, after all.
She continues. "Remember Sister Catrina?"
"Yeah." I chuckle. She was a character.
"Although she was a frumpy lady, she was pretty smart, you know, and she always reminded her Sunday school class they should forgive. So I feel obliged to forgive Jean-Paul. Only I don't know how. I need your help."
My help? My only desire is to beat Jean-Paul into a bloody pulp. "I don't know if I'm the right person for that, Zo'."
"You love God the most out of any person I've ever seen," she says, as tears come to my eyes. I hug her tightly, because it hasn't always been that easy.
****
"Sir, HR-4668 drafting session is going on right now. We have to make it clear we don't agree with corporations getting the largest tax breaks," Josh is saying during a senior staff meeting. "They'll ask for your input right after the session."
"Okay, I think it's pretty self-explanatory. I don't agree with corporations getting the largest tax breaks. I can remember that," I say.
Toby nods. "I can write you a quick speech to give to the corporations."
"The oil and gas special interests are going to be furious," CJ warns, as I can feel my concentration fade. "You're going to have to smooth the way..."
"Yes," says Will's voice, as it fades in, "but that's not the only special interest we should be worried about..."
"The Republicans are going to be furious..." says another voice.
"Sir, are you okay?"
"Sir?"
And that's the last thing I hear before I lose all consiousness.
****
When I wake up, all I can see is a very blurry Leo.
After I realize I must have been taken upstairs to bed.
"Are you all right, sir?" he asks, bending over me. I smile, because I know he knows the answer; he's just being polite.
"Yeah. I don't want to call Abbey."
"You know you have to, sir. I called her to tell her all about it, and she went off on me about-- what was it?" he flattens out a crinkled piece of paper in his hand. "Myoclonus, Monoparesis, Dysarthria, and Footdrop."
"Yeah, I don't know what any of that means."
"Me either. She made me write it down. I'm not even sure if I'm pronouncing it right.You can tell your wife is panicked when she's rattling off medical terminology at full speed."
We sit there in silence for a minute. "Leo, could you step out for a minute? I'm going to call my wife. Tell the staffers and my daughter that I'm all right."
****
Abbey picks up the phone and I can tell she's frantic. "Are you okay?" are the first words she blurts out when I say 'hello, sweetie.'
"Yeah. I just woke up,"
"Should I come home?"
"You don't have to do that. I'm going to call the doctor tonight."
"Jed--"
"It'll be fine. We'll know for sure."
"Yeah." And I can tell she's crying over the phone. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
I hold the reciever to my ear and I listen to Abbey cry for awhile. I long to cry, too, but I know I have to stay strong for my wife.
After she stops crying, she tells me about South America, and about the beautiful mountains, and about how she wishes I was there, too.
God, how I wish I was there, too.
RATING: PG
FEEDBACK: I get warm fuzzy feelings when I get feedback.
SUMMARY: "You can tell your wife is panicked when she's rattling off medical terminology at full speed."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first in a series about what happens when Bartlet discovers he has secondary progressive. Consider this the prologue.
THANKS: To Elizabeth, for beta-ing and rocking in the process, and to www.mult-sclerosis.org for helping me understand MS a bit better.
IF THE STARS STILL SILENTLY BLESS YOU (PROLOGUE)
Secondary progressive. Secondary progressive. The awful words almost have a rhythm. They warned it might happen, back when I was first diagnosed. Why didn't I believe them?
I woke up this morning, and I couldn't remember what very important fact I was just going to share with Abbey. Normally, I wouldn't be this alarmed, but this has been going on for a long time.
I've been thinking about last week.
****
Charlie came in, asking me if I wanted to go home.
"Charlie, did you read the briefing on--" and this is when I panicked. What was I about to say? I had just had it.
"Sir, are you okay?" I saw his brows furrow worriedly.
"Yeah, I'm just--" Then I was frustrated and confused. "Listen, did you do what you were supposed to do earlier today?"
"Sir, should I call a doctor?"
"No, I'm fine." And then I remembered suddenly. "Yeah, did you read the briefing on HR-4668?
"Yes. Sir--"
"Don't worry about it, Charlie." My words must have come out a lot harsher than I'd meant it to, because Charlie gives me an injured look before turning away. I didn't mean to, but I was tired. And frustrated with myself.
****
And then I jar myself back to the present. My wife is up, taking off her robe and yawning. "Hey, sweetie," she says.
"Hi. You're up early."
"The call woke me."
"Sorry."
"Don't worry about it."
"Okay." I sit up in bed and wince. It's getting harder and harder for me to get up as each day passes.
"When are you going to see the doctor?" she asks, pulling a sweatshirt on over her bra. She's traveling for a few days. For the next week or so, I'll lose her to Argentina. Or Guatemala. Or whichever South American country has demanded her attention.
"I don't know."
"Don't put this off, Jed. Remember what the doctor said." She's got this face on, as if she's trying to be cheerful. But I've been married to her for thirty-something years. I can tell when she's worried.
"I don't have time."
"Jed--"
I get out of bed and cross over to hug her. As I hold her in my arms, I put a gentle hand on her head. "I'll be okay."
Then she gives me this look. "If anything happens, call me, okay?"
"You know I will, babe."
****
I find that work throughout the day is more fatiguing than usual. Charlie's not the only one who's expressed concern.
Josh, for example, keeps asking me if he needs to repeat information. God, I must look really zoned out. CJ has offered to write down my briefing, and Leo has suggested I stay out of the Sit Room. I know they're right, but I have a job to do, right?
At the end of the day, Charlie comes back. "Is there anything I can do, sir?"
"No, I'm fine." Now I just feel irritated. I know all of my staff's intentions are good, but they're driving me nuts. I am a grown adult, after all.
Scrap that, I'm the President of the United States.
"Sir--"
"Charlie, when Zoey was young she used to have this walk my wife used the call the 'slump walk.'"
Charlie is looking confused but I plow right on. "She used to drag her feet on the ground, bending forward, and she'd stare at us with this really glazed over look."
Suddenly, he stares back at me as if he understands. Really, you can't get anything past him. "Your MS is flaring up."
"Yes."
"It's just flaring up now, right? It's not--"
"Secondary progressive? Yeah, we think so. It's been going on for awhile now. I'm going to call the doctor and if I'm diagnosed I would imagine I onlyhave so long before I have to step down."
There's a long pause while Charlie tries to grasp this, and I look down at my papers I've been given throughout the day. Quietly, he says, "You should really stay up on the tax reform bill. Josh has been going nuts." And then he slips out slowly, shutting the door behind him.
****
"Dad!" Zoey beams when she comes into my room. She's just flown back from Manchester. A few months after the kidnapping, she's doing fine.
"How're you doing, sweetie?" I say,
"I'm doing fine. I missed you, Dad. Elizabeth has been driving me crazy. She came up to Manchester for awhile, too, and she's been looking over me like a mother hen. Honestly, I don't need Mom." She laughs. God, it feels good to hear her laugh. "Mom's worried about you," she says, suddenly looking serious.
"Well, the day Mom stops being worried about me is the day we should all be worried," I laugh. "From about the second day we were married: Jed, be careful before you cross the street..."
Zoey laughs again, and does a perfect impression of her mother. "Be careful out there, honey, and remember, yell 'fire', not 'help', if someone is chasing you."
We both laugh at that, and then we're both quiet. Zoey's last statement has hit a little too close to home for comfort.
"I've been thinking, Dad," she says, leaning her head against my shoulder. "You know how Jean-Paul is a complete jerk?"
Like she has to tell me twice. "Yeah."
"Well, I was thinking about forgiving him."
"You mean publicly? Send a message to France saying we harbor no grudges against their country?"
"No, that's your job," she says. "Head of state and all that."
"Okay. What do you mean?"
"Just me and him, maybe a secret service man or two, in a room, and I can tell him I don't hate him."
"That's wonderful of you, honey," I say, my heart swelling with pride. I've raised my children right.
"Not because I want to, Dad," she says, sighing heavily. "It's because I keep thinking about church although I haven't gone in a long time."
That's something that's always bothered me about my children, but there's not much I can do; they're grown women, after all.
She continues. "Remember Sister Catrina?"
"Yeah." I chuckle. She was a character.
"Although she was a frumpy lady, she was pretty smart, you know, and she always reminded her Sunday school class they should forgive. So I feel obliged to forgive Jean-Paul. Only I don't know how. I need your help."
My help? My only desire is to beat Jean-Paul into a bloody pulp. "I don't know if I'm the right person for that, Zo'."
"You love God the most out of any person I've ever seen," she says, as tears come to my eyes. I hug her tightly, because it hasn't always been that easy.
****
"Sir, HR-4668 drafting session is going on right now. We have to make it clear we don't agree with corporations getting the largest tax breaks," Josh is saying during a senior staff meeting. "They'll ask for your input right after the session."
"Okay, I think it's pretty self-explanatory. I don't agree with corporations getting the largest tax breaks. I can remember that," I say.
Toby nods. "I can write you a quick speech to give to the corporations."
"The oil and gas special interests are going to be furious," CJ warns, as I can feel my concentration fade. "You're going to have to smooth the way..."
"Yes," says Will's voice, as it fades in, "but that's not the only special interest we should be worried about..."
"The Republicans are going to be furious..." says another voice.
"Sir, are you okay?"
"Sir?"
And that's the last thing I hear before I lose all consiousness.
****
When I wake up, all I can see is a very blurry Leo.
After I realize I must have been taken upstairs to bed.
"Are you all right, sir?" he asks, bending over me. I smile, because I know he knows the answer; he's just being polite.
"Yeah. I don't want to call Abbey."
"You know you have to, sir. I called her to tell her all about it, and she went off on me about-- what was it?" he flattens out a crinkled piece of paper in his hand. "Myoclonus, Monoparesis, Dysarthria, and Footdrop."
"Yeah, I don't know what any of that means."
"Me either. She made me write it down. I'm not even sure if I'm pronouncing it right.You can tell your wife is panicked when she's rattling off medical terminology at full speed."
We sit there in silence for a minute. "Leo, could you step out for a minute? I'm going to call my wife. Tell the staffers and my daughter that I'm all right."
****
Abbey picks up the phone and I can tell she's frantic. "Are you okay?" are the first words she blurts out when I say 'hello, sweetie.'
"Yeah. I just woke up,"
"Should I come home?"
"You don't have to do that. I'm going to call the doctor tonight."
"Jed--"
"It'll be fine. We'll know for sure."
"Yeah." And I can tell she's crying over the phone. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
I hold the reciever to my ear and I listen to Abbey cry for awhile. I long to cry, too, but I know I have to stay strong for my wife.
After she stops crying, she tells me about South America, and about the beautiful mountains, and about how she wishes I was there, too.
God, how I wish I was there, too.