Chapter 103

It's a long, slow slide

As the soft ruffles of Robin's breath echoed throughout the room, Patrick threaded his fingers through her hair and stared up at the ceiling. It was his first night sleeping in a bed without being hooked up to an i.v. and with a heart monitor flashing in the background. It was the first night in more than a week - maybe longer if he could remember - that he and Robin could wrap themselves around each other without any concession or concern for who might walk in. The feel of her steady breath against his chest was soothing and reassuring; her hair splayed against him served as a welcome reminder of so many nights spent in a similar position. And he liked the almost possessive way her arm was draped across his waist - as though she was holding on to him.

She was sleeping soundly. He could not get his brain to turn off.

It was beginning to feel as though conversations were backing up in his brain and there was no way to get them out. He was trying to be patient, trying not to get frustrated by his inability to speak but it was getting harder and harder to keep it all under control. While he had ways of communicating - through his dry erase board and with the few words he could push out - it was not conversing. There were no discussions, no debates, just a series of questions and answers. He was acutely aware that both his father and his girlfriend were happy to provide answers but did not engage him in any type of conversation. There was no flow, no give and take - it was as though once they had responded to his query, they moved on. Follow up questions only garnered basic answers. He had sat at the dinner table and watched the two of them exchange easily with each other but when they spoke to him it was generally with a view to a yes or no answer. He was ready to scream but was sure no one would hear him.

He wanted to talk more about the list he made. He was not a list making person by nature - he wouldn't even make a grocery list most of the time, rather he would walk the aisles of the store and see what appealed to him. How sick had he been? How desperate was he feeling? What had driven to make a list of things to do? It did not matter if Robin wouldn't confirm it to him, he knew in his heart that it was things he wanted to accomplish before he died. Which meant, of course, he felt he was going to die. Had he been scared? Had he cried? Had he wished for his mother?

His attempts to engage her further on the list were shut down. She had told him that when he was stronger they could discuss it. The answer enraged him and short of physically having a temper tantrum, he had little way of expressing his anger. People around him held his memories and yet no one was willing to just lay them out for him. They were deciding the when and the where for telling him and there was something incredibly infuriating about it. Clinically, he understood the need to be careful in dealing with patients experiencing memory loss but it did little to quell his rising frustration.

Robin had let it slip that he had not shared the list with her and that disturbed him. He had never really been an open person - sharing was not something that came easily to him. If he were being perfectly truthful he would admit that he had always been like that. It was easy to blame his father's addiction on him shutting down but the reality was it simply gave him the excuse to do so. Even as a child he had been loathe to be too open with anyone outside of his family. There was no explanation for it, he had just always played his cards close to his chest. His friendship with Eric had forced him to pry open some of the darker areas of his life that he preferred to ignore but even then, they were guys and medical students and had neither the time nor the inclination to sit around talking about their feelings. When Eric got sick it sent him into a tailspin because there was no one for him to talk to and so he decided, quite arrogantly, that he his friend was going to live. He needed him to survive as much for his own selfish needs as for Eric's sake.

But Robin, as he had come to discover time and again, was different.

He could not put his finger on what exactly it was but he wanted to open up to her almost immediately. Chuckling to himself he remembered quite clearly blathering and stammering bits about himself to her when he started at General Hospital. He told her about his father, about his mother, about his need to be the best before they even started dating. Somehow his heart had recognized that he could trust her and his brain simply played catch up. As their relationship progressed he found himself telling her things that he had not even told himself consciously. She never dismissed his feelings or his worries and it was just one of the many reasons he had fallen so deeply in love with her. And that was why he was dumbfounded that he had not shared his list with her.

Had he really believed he could hide it from her? And if so, what else had hidden?

Gritting down his teeth he tried to bite back his frustration. He wanted more than just answers to questions, he wanted to talk. He had been blessed with extraordinary intelligence and so many things in life had come easy to him - including medicine. Now to be struggling with something so basic as speech was killing him.

Looking down at Robin, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and smiled slightly as she shifted against him, pulling herself closer to him. At dinner she announced she had to return to Port Charles for a day to consult on a case she had been involved with prior to Patrick's surgery. He had no real reason to doubt her, after all lying was not something Robin did or if she did, it was not something she did well. But there was something about it that was gnawing at him.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" he asked himself. "And how long are you going to try to protect me from it?"

Looking back up at the ceiling, he sighed quietly and touched the medallion around his neck. The sooner he got to work with the speech therapist, the better. Being able to speak was the key to reclaiming his life - both his past and his future.

xxxxx
With her legs bouncing nervously, Robin took one deep breath after another and tried to calm herself as she waited for Alan. She was trying to take some comfort in the fact that he asked to meet her in his office as opposed to an exam room. When she had called him, he said that he needed to meet with her to discuss test results but would not say more over the phone. Under other circumstances she might have been angry about the withholding of information but Alan had been with her from the beginning and he had always believed in doing things face to face. He believed that a doctor had a responsibility beyond just delivering news; they needed to see how the news was received by the patient and help manage their reaction. It was a lesson he reminded all doctors of and one she herself had adopted in her practice.

Neither Noah nor Patrick seemed to suspect anything when she said she needed to return for a day to consult on a case. It wasn't a complete lie after all she was consulting on a case - her own. Depending on what Alan told her she knew she would need to share it but she did not want to sound any alarm prematurely. There was more than enough stress and worry going on without her adding to it unnecessarily.

Hearing the door open, her head snapped up and she scrambled to her feet. "Hi Alan" she greeted him with a nervous smile.

The older doctor kissed her cheek. "It's good to see you Robin." With her chart in his hand he opted to sit in the chair beside her rather than on the other side of his desk.

"I hope so" she joked nervously.

Smiling reassuringly, Alan flipped open the folder. "Robin, your viral level has not responded to the increase in dosage the way I would have liked it to. It is still elevated and I'm not comfortable leaving it at those levels"

Blanching slightly, she swallowed thickly. "Wh-what do you propose?"

"I'd like to make one more dosage adjustment."

She groaned inwardly. Any tinkering with her medication usually meant her body putting up a fight. Another increase in dosage would mean several days of nausea, fatigue and just generally feeling miserable. Inhaling sharply she knew she had little choice but to accept it. "You're confident this will be the last though?"

A small grimace crossed the Chief of Staff's face. "I'm hopeful, however Robin if your viral load doesn't respond to the new dosage we are going to have to look at changing your protocol."

"No!" she gasped. The memories and misery of her last change of protocol were firmly etched in her mind and though she didn't fear much, she did shudder at having to go through that particular horror another time. New medication brought new side effects with the added bonus of it usually requiring several tries to get the correct dosage. She could expect to spend as much as a month nearly bed ridden from the effects.

He patted her arm reassuringly. "We aren't there yet Robin but I want you to know what's down the road if we can't get things back under control. Now I'm not telling you anything new but along with the increase in your meds I need you to be really vigilant in getting enough rest and eating well-"

"I always am" she protested.

"Yes" he agreed. "Except when you're putting other people's needs ahead of your own, like you are now with Patrick. I know you want to care for him Robin but you cannot do it at your own expense."

"I'm not" she snapped, immediately regretting her tone. "Alan, I am taking care of myself."

"Good" he smiled. "Do you have any questions?"

Chewing on her bottom lip, she shook her head. "No"

"Okay then. I'll get you your new prescriptions and be back in a moment to explain them to you."

Watching as he left the office, she clenched her eyes shut and swallowed down the scream building inside her. What was she going to do now and how could she ever tell Patrick?