LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part 11

With thanks to Benj and Soaranteagle, cutterdog, Astras 2003, sasmom, hughfangirl333, Master of Hugh, Auditrix, Armchair Elvis and all those who wrote in the Episode 2.13 Spoilers thread on Devoted to Hugh and Why Vicodin thread on House Fans. Without the input of their discussion I could not have written this chapter.

PART ELEVEN - FIRST DRAFT

Greg's breathing was shallow his eyes were shut. The only indication of consciousness was a small groan as the bed hit the door track as it was wheeled into the elevator. I hung back thinking I was in the way.

"Here Stacy" said Wilson indicating I should stand beside him. His hand was on Greg's shoulder I touched Greg's hand and his long fingers reached out for me. I put my hand in his and immediately felt the pressure of his grip. His head jerked and Wilson quickly placed a kidney dish beside his face. The nurse supported the dish and Wilson held Greg's head as blood gushed from his mouth. I looked on in horror, hardly noticing him crushing my hand in his. The elevator doors opened and Greg released my hand

"Sorry." Greg mumbled.

"It's alright," said Wilson, "Not long now. You'll be in the OR in a minute."

Greg gave a weak nod and the nurse wiped the blood from around his mouth. Wilson accompanied Greg as the wardsman and nurses rushed him towards the OR.

Cuddy was holding the elevator door for me to exit. But I didn't.

"Oh God. Oh my God" I said, it was not a prayer or an indication of belief, I was simply voicing my horror of what was happening to Greg.

"The surgeon? An artist of a plumber?" I asked.

"An artist."

I gave Cuddy a look that said I would kill her and the surgeon if they damaged Greg further.

Dr. Cameron was in the waiting room with coffee for Cuddy and myself.

"It was the Vicodin wasn't it?" I put it as a question but it was more of a statement.

"Yes." Cuddy answered.

I looked directly at Cameron.

"Can you tell me exactly what has happened?" I asked Cameron. I knew she would not lie to me because I knew how much she cared for Greg.

"The breakthrough pain came from a peptic ulcer but the pain presented in his spine and right shoulder the referred pain made him think the problem was skeletal. He was not aware of the ulcer because he is so used to nausea. It's side effect of vicodin and a symptom of chronic pain. One of the injuries he received in the parking lot was a blow to the stomach but the pain from the herniated disc masked its potential seriousness. Just after you and Dr. Cuddy left, the ulcer perforated and the gastric contents spilt into the abdominal cavity. This caused him to suffer severe abdominal pain and he vomited blood. We could not do an endoscopy because it could have worsened the spillage or disrupted any seal. But an XRay show clear air."

"Thank you." I said taking the coffee and sitting down. I had no idea what clear air meant but that was not my main concern.

"How will he survive this?" I asked. I meant if he did live how difficult would his life be. But I was too tired to say that

"Well all surgery..." Cuddy started on the standard speech.

"No the truth. Not the standard in-flight safety drill. I've heard that too many times." I knew I had to control my anger.

"We hope he will survive," said Cuddy.

"Do you mean living or mere survival?" I asked. "His life has been hard enough what is this going to do?"

Cameron answered "He was involved in the diagnosis. He agreed to the laparoscopic ulcer repair. All tissue will be biopsied. After the operation he will be placed in Intensive Care where Dr Chase will monitor him and will, if necessary, place him in a chemically induced coma. Dr Foreman and I are consulting with specialists in pain management in order to find an alternative to the Vicodin and other supportive treatments."

"We have tried to get him off Vicodin, Stacy." said Cuddy

"Yes I know. You made a bet with him. Did you think his pain was some kind of a hobby?" I knew I was losing it Lisa Cuddy was putting her hospital administrator look in place. She was ready to reprimand me but Wilson had come into the waiting room, his arms encircled me.

"Stacy it was me not Cuddy who was responsible for that." He said apologetically.

"Why. Why did you put him through that? He smashed his hand. The only thing he had left outside his job was music and he smashed his hand." I probably knew more than anyone else in that room just how much the piano meant to him. What playing the piano meant.

"I was wrong. Stacy. I was just plain wrong." Said Wilson with heartbreaking candor.

"He would be dead now if it wasn't for the music." I said knowing it was true.

"I know. I know." He held me close and I could feel him shaking. "I know just how much damage I did. Stacy everytime I see Greg in pain I wish it was me going through it and not him." I pulled back to look in his face and saw his gentle brown eyes were filled with tears he was desperately trying not to shed.

The silence of the room was awful. Then the cellphone in my purse rang. I thought I had turned it off but for a moment I was glad to answer it in order to avoid the tension. I did not even look at the caller identification. "Stacy Warner. PPTH Legal."

"Stacy. You have to get them to lift the restraining order" It was Mark, anxious and frightened wanting me to make all his troubles go away. But this time I couldn't and wouldn't clear up after him.

"It is out of my hands, Mark," I said coldly.

"Hang up." said Cuddy obviously worried. She had not filled me in on what had happened with Mark and I had not asked. But Mark had unwittingly told me everything I needed to know to bring me up to speed.

"I cannot have this conversation. It is inappropriate for me to speak to you at this time. You will have to wait the lawyers to meet. Goodbye Mark." I switched off the cell. I might have sounded cool detached and totally professional on the phone to Mark but I couldn't get it back into my purse and I felt my knees start to give way.

"Greg said you needed rest. He was worried about you." Said Wilson holding me up. He nodded at Cuddy and Cameron held up his pager to let them know they could contact him at any time. Then he took me out of the waiting room down the hall to the elevator and finally we were at Greg's office. He sat me down in Greg's big chair and lifted my legs up onto the footstool. There was so much of Greg within that chair. It had molded to his shape it had absorbed his scent. To lie in his chair was like lying in his arms. This was the chair, which gave him the most comfort when pain threatened, and it was comforting me now.

Wilson sat on the footstool beside my legs. Then he started to talk about Greg.

"He has an intimate relationship with his pain and he has always shut us out until now. He referred to it as 'my pain' not 'the pain' he took ownership of it. Vicodin worked for him while it worked for him. If this hadn't happened eventually his kidneys and liver would have tanked. He knew that. His biggest tragedy is the fact that he knows. He knows how bad the post-operative pain will be. He knows how long it will take after the disc surgery and the perforation repair to come close to the mobility he had three weeks ago. And that is if everything goes well in the OR and pathology don't find any nasties."

He could no longer hold back the tears. "Stacy. I have never had another friend like Greg. Not someone I cared so much about. I suppose you think that is odd. Two men."

"No I don't think it's odd." I said because I didn't. 'You are like two guys serving side by side in a war. You love each other, you trust each other and I know you'd lay down your life for Greg."

"It's a war alright and pain is the enemy." He made a halfhearted attempt to wipe away the tears. "You know what frightens me most?"

I shook my head but I had a fair idea.

"I am frightened of the day when he can't take it anymore and asks me to help him die."