"Father! Father!" Arthur turned the handled to the bedroom door and pushed it open. "Father, today we check the ferris wheel!" The boy almost tripped over his nightgown when his excitement was dashed instantly.
"Christine, I am perfectly fine," Erik rolled to the other side of the bed as his wife stood over him trying to lay a wet cloth on his forehead.
"You've been coughing since yesterday afternoon and now you are burning. You are coming down with something, you need to rest before it gets worse."
"Nonsense, a little meadowsweet and I will be good. Besides we have rehearsal today." A few seconds later the man's stomach rumbled loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. The Phantom tossed the covers off of him and dashed into the water closet slamming the door behind him.
"Is there no ferris wheel today?" Arthur looked up at his mother.
She smiled sadly at her youngest son, "At least not with Father. Maybe I can get Gustave to take you."
Christine helped her husband change into clean drawers before getting him back into bed.
"I have sent for the doctor," she placed the cold, wet cloth on his forehead.
"I don't need a doctor, I just need rest. Send a memo to the theatre rehearsal will be later today." Erik undid the top buttons of the nightshirt. "It is so hot in here."
"You need both, rest and the doctor, Angel," She dabbed his face and chest with another cloth. "You are burning up. And you're having bowel issues. You are ill with something. There will be no rehearsal for you today."
"What can the doctor do?"
"The same things he would do if you called if I was ill," Christine ran her fingers through his thin tuffs of hair smoothing them out. "Let me take care of my dear husband."
"Erik doesn't get sick, quit fussing over him." His stomach rumbled and he lurched forward pushing his wife as he made his way to the water closet. "Goddamn it I shat myself again! No need for the doctor, it's dysentery!"
When the doctor, an esteemed colleague of Dr. Bundy, did arrive, Erik had not left the toilet.
Christine who had made a pot of tea met Dr. Morrison at the door carrying it and a tea cup, escorted him upstairs, "Thank you for coming, Dr. Morrison. He insists it's dysentery. I would say so, he's burning up and is constantly on the toilet. I just made a pot of chamomile tea; if it is dysentery, he needs fluids."
Dr. Morrison opened the bedroom door and from there he could see Erik sitting on the toilet as the water closet door was not closed, "You cannot sit on the pot the whole time Mr. Y. It'll make the Piles worse."
"I've had dysentery before, Doctor. Last two times I laid down this morning, I barely made it in time. Still shat myself. Ask my wife, she helped me change. I want this first wave to pass before I lay down again. It's humiliating to be covered in shit in front of your wife. She should only deal with that with our children."
Christine sighed sitting the teapot down on the nightstand, "Angel please. I…"
Dr. Morrison interrupted, "Well if you aren't actively defecating right now, Mr. Y please stand and at least walk around. If you keep sitting, you're only going to give yourself piles worse than Mrs. Y probably had after giving birth making her care for your longer."
Erik sighed and stood, pulling his nightshirt down quickly has he had stopped wearing drawers in his current situation. He walked to the sink and washed his hands.
"That is good, good hygiene will keep you from spreading it. Has anyone else in your family had any symptoms?"
"No," Christine replied.
"Has there been blood in your stool, Mr. Y? Have they all been loose stools?"
"Yes. I've told you I've had dysentery before. The only difference was I didn't have a wife to fuss over me."
"Maybe it's a good thing you have a wife to fuss over you now. You are older," Dr. Morrison opened his bag and removed a thermometer. He handed it to Erik who begrudgingly put it in his mouth.
The Doctor checked it after a couple of minutes, "Yes that is about right."
"I could have told you I had a fever," Mr. Y snapped handing him back the thermometer.
"Erik, please!" Christine squeezed her husband's arm.
"I can give you something to help with the fever and the bowel pain; but you need rest and fluids," Dr. Morrison removed a couple of vials from his bag and sat them next to the teapot.
Erik took a few steps and stumbled.
"Angel!" Christine exclaimed. She quickly grabbed him. "You're laying down!"
He groaned as he laid down, "Leave the covers off at least."
"I made you chamomile tea," Christine poured some from the pot into the cup. "Drink."
"Once he finishes one pot of tea bring up another. He should be drinking only boiled water," Dr. Morrison lifted one of the wet clothes from the bed. "I see you were already trying cold presses. You can also do those along with the medication. Sitz baths will help with any soreness."
Mr. Y groaned again before gulping down the full cup of tea. He turned on his side, "Let me be."
"Oh I had forgotten how unbearable you are when ill," Christine sighed taking the cup and refilling it. She handed it to him before turning to the doctor, "I will see you out."
Christine walked into the theatre, the dancers had full use of the stage in costume. Ada, being ever the professional, took full advantage of Erik not being there to start rehearsal. The rest of the cast sat close together talking but it stopped when Christine entered. The dancers however did not.
"And where is Mr. Y?" Ada called from the corner of the stage.
"He is under the weather," Christine pulled the stacks of notes and score she carried tighter to her chest. "I will be directing this afternoon. Violet, please get in place for Marguerite."