1Here's a story I did upon watching House and hearing them discuss "accepting death" and throwing out five steps. I took them in and nodded, thinking, "So that's how easy it is? We have steps for everything now." and I figured how it could apply to a story of some sort.
So I decided to write using my current muse, Angel. Please, enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own RENT or this five-step program.
Lower Your Head and Take it in the Body
By Donna
Denial
I open my eyes and stare at the room. Stark, white... hospital. i Fuck /I ! I'm in the hospital! Oh God... what happened! Try to remember... someone... Collins?... probably... passing out?... yeah... oh no.
The door is slowly opening and I see Collins. He looks shocked. i Why /I ?
This isn't good. Not at all. Not at all.
"Hey... you're awake," he whispers, putting his hand on my forehead. Something's up. "Collins..." I start.
He sighs. "Angel... do you want me to tell you what's going on?"
Oh no.
"I'm dead, aren't I?" I ask, tears in my eyes. It's official. This is real. No more pretend anymore. Apparently running on love, AZT, music, and friendship can't help you.
"Yeah, baby, well, they say that," he says, guilty, "b-but don't worry! They said you weren't gonna make it a few times! You always pull something off and prove them wrong, right, Angel? You're... you're gonna be fine."
I nod. "Of course I will, babe. What do I have?"
"Pneumonia," he deadpans.
My heart is sinking now. That... that wasn't good.
But, come on. I've had it before. I'm not going to die. Not yet.
The doctor comes in. "I guess you heard the news."
I mumble a, "Yeah."
"You're going to go through five stages to accept death," he explains in a monotone he probably told a hundred mothers, sisters, brothers, men, women, and children before me. "One is denial."
Of course. Because I'm not going to die... oh shit.
"Two. Anger."
It'd work if I was dy... there I go again.
"Then the third, fear."
Maybe if I blocked him out I wouldn't hear this and it wouldn't be happening... Collins gives me a shove instead.
"The fourth is bargain."
"Bargain?" I ask.
"Yes," he says.
I nod. Who the hell writes this stuff, anyway?
"...What's the last one?" Collins asks.
"Acceptance," the doctor concludes. "It happens to all of us sometime."
I think I was skipping to fear. Oh my God. He was serious. Part of me still said, Hang in there, Angel! You know you're not dying... you're only, what, twenty-three? You got the hottest, smartest, coolest boyfriend ever. You're doing so well... you got your awesome drums, music, body...
I stare down my hospital gown. I have that many ribs!
The doctor says, "I'll leave you two alone."
I just stare. No, no, no, no, no!"
"Oh, God, Ang, are you okay?" Collins asks. Skip to anger. "No! I scream.
He looks both ways. "Oh, Angel..." he lays on the bed next to me and wraps his arms around me. He shouldn't be doing this... it has to be against hospital rules. He shouldn't have to be looking after a dying queen. He shouldn't have to be wasting his life like this. He just shouldn't be here.
Then he says, "Don't worry, babe, I ain't goin' anywhere."
Funny, it should reassure me, but for some reason, it's not.
Anger
I've been lying in this damn hospital bed for about two days now. I'm bored, tired, and don't know what to do. My voice is shot. I'm trying to talk to everyone and give them a piece of my mind. Get Mark's head out of his little documented world, get Roger to get his head out of his ass, get Mimi off her drugs, get Maureen and Joanne to stop fighting, and get Collins ready. He was my main concern. I didn't want him to wake up someday miraculously living a few more years, bored, alone, and depressed. That would be a nightmare.
Mimi is flitting around. She has nailpolish in her hand. She smiles at me. "Hey."
I smile back. "Hey, girl."
She sits next to me ant takes my hand. "Everyone wants to talk to you. You want them in?"
I notice that only she and Collins are in the room. I finally say, "Yeah! Sure!" My voice cracking is really pissing me off.
Hell, everything is. This is the next step, isn't it? Anger. I'm human. I get angry. I'm mad. I'm sad. Why me? I was doing so well. After years and years of weird looks, confusion, and insecurity, I finally accepted myself, met a bunch of great people, and fell in love. Why am I getting killed!
Collins bends down and whispers, "Mark brought that damn camera. If you don't want it in here, tell me."
I shake my head. Let him film. Make me seem human in his little documentary. I probably seem so fake to everyone. I'm a fake girl. I'm a fake musician. I'm fake, fake, fake, fake, fake. Show me as a dying person and make someone reconsider what they were saying.
Mimi is painting my nails now. I groan. The smell hurts my nose, but I don't want to tell her. I want to live a little bit normal, even though I am in this damn hospital. I feel like screaming or hiding. Or punching someone. Hmm... Roger needs a good hit in the face, torturing my Mimi like that.
I grunt. This isn't physically possible.
Mimi runs to the other side of the bed and takes my other hand. She sings happily. She seems to be the only one happy around here. I'm not even happy. I'm furious.
Will I ever be happy again? Am I going to go to hell and never be happy again?
Why me?
Fear
They decided to move someone into my room. It's another guy with AIDS. They don't want us contaminating the rest of the hospital, I guess. He refuses to talk to me. It doesn't matter that much because Collins is constantly with me. I'm trying to help the poor guy out, but whenever he hears me, he screams, "I'M STRAIGHT!" Okay. So I got that much.
Now I'm I fear. Anger only lasted half a day. I keep hearing the machines whirling and I wonder if when an alarm goes off it's for me or Mister Hetero. My sight's not that good now and I'm relying on my hearing a lot more.
I see a blob come into the room. I shut my eyes and listen to the footsteps. Collins. I snap my eyes open and gasp, "Hey!"
"OH NO!" Macho Man screams, "ARE YOU TWO GONNA FUCK!"
I sigh. "I wish."
Collins taps my head. He begins to try and crawl into bed with me until the door rattles. Oops. We try to move far away from each other. One of the worst things that could happen would be Collins not allowed to stay with me because he was laying in bed with me. This was scary enough. Without Collins... I don't know what I'd do.
It was a nurse inspecting my vital stats. She says, "You okay?"
If I could laugh, I would. Hah! I'm sorry, sweetie! Cure AIDS and then we'll talk.
She checks out Macho Man and leaves. Collins rolls back on the bed and holds me close.
"What are you gong through right now?" he asks.
"...Fear," I say, choking up.
"Are you thristy?" he asks.
I gag. They have these ugly green sponges on sticks dipped in water for me. They're nasty.
"C'mon, Ang, you can't be like that," he scolds.
Ang... oh right. Angel. I've been called "Mister Schunard" ever since I got here and I have a tendency to forget who I am.
So I ask him, dumbly, "Who am I again?"
"You're... you're Angel, stupid." Collins spudders.
Angel isn't this. Angel isn't me. This is a scared monster in an ugly hospital gown. I can only aspire to be the Angel that always pulled fabulous ideas out of their ass and put on eyeliner with one hand. Now I needed Mimi to paint my nails.
Why does death have to be so damn slow? I hate unpredictability like this. I want to just let go and make it quick. But know me, I'd just run away scared because of if.
Collins takes my hand and holds it close.
Maybe I shouldn't think of that. He needs me more than anything. And I need him.
Bargain
"The guys" took Collins out for lunch. I think they know I can hang on for at least two hours. Maureen and Mimi are keeping me company. They are talking so fast now and I decide to fake sleeping.
So I'm still a little scared, but I'm playing the trade-game in my head.
I'll give up drag for a year to live until Christmas. I'll give up sex for... uhm... six months for a month more. No! I'll give up sex for life if I can live another month! I'm not even making sense anymore!
Well, my sight's pretty much gone, so I guess the sanity's the next part.
Mimi hangs on to my hand and keeps talking. It's just noise to me.
I shut my eyes tightly. This can't be good. Oh my God. This isn't good...
I can barely talk, but I say, "Dear God, I don't care, anymore! I don't care if you kill me tonight! Just please let me hang on until Collins comes here! Please!"
"Do you want me to call someone!" Mimi asks, panicked.
"No," I say. I thought, C'mon God... just a little more.
Acceptance
The door opens. I groan. I'm still here. Good.
I hear footsteps. Phew! Collins!
Collins holds me and I hear Mimi and Maureen leave. I sigh. Collins holds me so tightly. He enjoys telling me about little things like the fighting couple at the diner and how all the stores are ready for Halloween. It's a nice, warm feeling. I think I'm feeling... acceptance.
I smile. This is it. This... isn't so bad. I'm still Angel. I still have Collins. And I'm still happy, with him.
I can't deny it. It's obvious now. I'm going to die because of my own negligence. I can only blame myself for my stupidity.
I can't stay angry. It's a bad omen if you die angry.
I'm not... well... I'm a little scared. But it's okay to be a little scared. But you have to put down your blanket and admire the world. Don't hide from it.
I can't bargain. I'll miss this. Collins holding me. Saying he loves me. Being surrounded by people that care. And Mister Macho.
It's okay. Life's okay. It's near the end. But it's okay. Not fabulous or great, but okay.
Too bad it took twenty-three years to accept it.
END
Whoa. "Goodbye Love" came on as I ended it. Freaky.
Anyway, this story was actually draining to write. I hope you enjoyed it.