Chapter 27:
He was supposed to be trying to sleep on his own for at least an hour. It has all been set up to go well- he'd had a shower, his medication and been changed into fresh pyjamas. His water bottle, the patchwork quilt, a lamp that he could easily reach- all were ready on the bedside if he needed them. He'd tried to stall, but it hadn't worked. Cal had given him a hug, and then left.
The room was dimly lit. Ethan looked around and could make out a few shapes. The end of his bed and his feet under the blankets, the screen for the TV he hated having on, the bathroom door, the window. He could see light from the corridor, but the door was shut.
He knew it was important he learned to be alone, but it was hard. He'd felt so alone when he'd struggled with his back before he'd been diagnosed and admitted with Potts' Disease. Cal had been in Australia. Connie and Dylan had been around as much as possible, but he'd been alone more than not. Since the head injury, he'd very rarely been without them, and he'd been alone for minutes, rather than hours, total since the fall. He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous. He was usually asleep. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to feel like a burden.
He was able to roll over with ease now. Lying on his stomach, he pushed his face into the pillow. His eyes were prickling a little.
Outside, Cal was pacing. 'How do you think he is? Is he asleep?'
'No,' Connie said. She listened to the plastic chunk in her hand. 'Moving.'
It had been an idea on her late-night drive the day before. She was clearing through the loft, getting rid of stuff that dated back to her time in cardiothoracic surgery, to before Grace was born, before she even lived in Holby (to her shame). While looking wistfully over a box of tiny dungarees and sleepsuits, she'd found the baby monitor that had been packed away close to a decade ago. To her surprise, it still worked. The monitor was a round ball of white plastic with a microphone inside, the feeder similar but with a speaker. They'd tested it in the staffroom, and realised that the monitor had no way to output sound, while the receiver couldn't transmit anything to the monitor. It was perfect. They'd be able to hear him and keep him safe. However, they'd also decided Ethan wouldn't be told. The device was small enough to be hidden away perfectly inside a greeting card propped up on the bedside table.
'Brings back memories, this thing. Grace was an awful sleeper. Now, I can't get her up.' Connie offered. Her face changed. 'He's crying.'
Cal's shoulders went back, and Connie could see his expression. 'The longer it takes for him to get used to us not being there, the harder it's going to be for him. He'll relax and go to sleep soon.'
'That's what they say about babies. He's not a baby, Connie, he's got a brain injury. He's vulnerable.'
'I'm not treating him like a baby!' Connie tried to argue, before glancing down at the baby monitor in her hand. Her lip twitched as she realised the irony. Before she knew it, Cal gave a watery laugh, too.
'Can I have a listen?'
Ethan was crying softly, but immediately Cal could tell he wasn't badly distressed. 'I think he's just making a noise to try to make himself feel less lonely.'
'We tried with white noise a few days ago. He hated it. I had no idea, Cal, how descriptive Ethan could be with his language. Once he's fully recovered, he should have a side career in the arts.'
They both laughed. It helped to try and make the atmosphere less tense. Cal stopped pacing and sat down. 'Sorry for being a pain,' he said. 'I just worry. We're both all each other has left.'
'I understand.' She reached out and quickly squeezed his hand. 'I think he's getting quieter.'
A few minutes were spent in a comfortable silence. The soft sound of crying over the monitor slowly reduced.
Ethan started feeling tired. The crying had worn him out further, and he wanted to try to fall asleep quickly. His eyes were itching, despite the fact he'd not worn contact lenses that day. Suddenly, a sharp, cold sense of fear flashed into his stomach. He gasped, turning himself to sit up. His mind felt heavy and grey for three seconds, before the room began to melt away.
'Ethan?' Cal called, running through the door. 'Connie?'
Connie was two seconds behind and snapped the lights on as she dashed after Dr Knight. The sides of the bed were already up to prevent further falls, and she lowered it to be completely flat. 'Alright, alright,' she whispered. To her surprise, Ethan was conscious. He was trembling violently.
'Going to. Ss-s-s-s…' before he could finish the word, he'd collapsed, falling forwards. Cal tried to turn him as quickly as possible onto his side, but it was made difficult by Ethan's muscles tensing and relaxing constantly.
Eventually, he got his brother onto his side. It wasn't a long seizure, and he quickly judged that he didn't need oxygen now that Ethan was post-ictal. 'Ethan? You've had a seizure. What do you remember?'
'Felt s-s-sick.'
'Alright. Dr Knight, do you want to turn the lights off?'
Cal quietly turned the lights off, and helped to settle Ethan back. He was dozy as a result of the seizure. Small mercies. 'Sleepy?' Cal asked. He gently pushed Ethan's hair back on his forehead, running his fingers over a small bruise forming where Ethan had banged his head against the bed railings. Ethan grumbled, rolling over onto his stomach. He fell asleep quickly, his face pushed hard into the pillow.
