“How much did he have to drink tonight?” That was a female voice, an unfamiliar one.
I wasn’t drinking, Nick wanted to respond, but his mouth didn’t want to form the words, and his eyelids felt too heavy to open.
Someone else answered for him anyway. “Not a lot... all he had was one Pepsi with gin, that’s it!” That was Brent.
Wait... gin? The thought burst through the fog in Nick’s brain, and his mind raced. I didn’t have gin in it... I didn’t have any alcohol... can’t drink... chemo...
“He’s dehydrated. Raul, start a line of saline.”
Nick winced as he felt a sharp prick in the crook of his arm.
“He’s coming around... Nick! Nick, can you hear me?”
Finally, Nick managed to open his eyes. As his blurred vision cleared, he found the face of a middle-aged woman staring down at him. Paramedic, he realized. He looked around to find that he was lying on his back in the bathroom. Someone had dragged him out of the stall, apparently, because now he was out in the open, in front of the urinals. Another paramedic was tending to an IV line that had been put into his arm, and over the top of the female paramedic’s head, he could see Brent, Lane, Frank, and James hanging back, looking slightly terrified.
“Nick, you know where you are?” asked the woman.
“Charlatan’s... in the bathroom...” Nick replied, the beginnings of embarrassment coming over him. God, the guys must think he was a total freak, passing out in a bathroom. He’d never passed out before in his life. Fainting was such a pussy thing to do.
“Good. What did you have to drink tonight, Nick?”
“Just Pepsi.” Brent’s comment came back to him – All he had was one Pepsi with gin, that’s it! “I didn’t have any alcohol.”
“Your friend over there said you had gin in your Pepsi – is that right?”
Nick started to shake his head when he saw Brent blanch. “Uh... Nick? We kinda... uh... had the bartender add a little something to your drink... thought it would lighten you up a little bit.”
Oh shit. So he had had alcohol... and this was probably why he had been warned not to. Because he would end up puking his guts out and then passing out in a bathroom. Fun.
“Damn it, Brent,” he murmured. “Why the hell did you go and do that?”
“It was Frank’s idea,” Brent immediately said.
“Hey! Don’t blame it all on me, asshole!” retorted Frank, giving Brent a shove. Brent immediately shoved him back, and Lane and James had to immediately jump in the middle and break it up.
“Hey, get out of here, all of you!” the woman shouted angrily, turning to watch the four of them stagger out of the bathroom. Looking back at Nick, she said, “Okay, Nick, we’re going to take you to the hospital. You’re dehydrated, and since you passed out, they’ll probably want to check you out.”
Nick only nodded compliantly, as the two paramedics lifted him onto a stretcher. As they wheeled him out of the bathroom and through the bar out into the warm night air, he couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had recognized him. Would this be in the news the next morning?
As he was loaded into the ambulance, he tried not to think about it. No use worrying over something he couldn’t control.
Although these days, it seemed like he couldn’t control anything.
***
In the Tampa General Emergency Room, doctors and nurses bustled around, barking out orders, poking and prodding, taking Nick’s vital signs. A pair of nurses set to work on removing his clothes, and that was when one of the nurses exclaimed, “Oh! You have a Groshong!”
He knew she was talking about his catheter, and he nodded. “I’m on chemo,” he told her weakly. “For Ewing’s Sarcoma.”
“You have Ewing’s, Mr. Carter?” a man in a white lab coat repeated.
“Yes.”
“Have you been treated at this hospital before?”
“Yeah. My doctor’s Dr. Kingsbury.”
“Oh, Barb Kingsbury, yes. I know her. Sandra, page Dr. Kingsbury and pull up Mr. Carter’s chart, would you?”
“Sure, Dr. Lanville.”
“Are you experiencing any pain or shortness of breath, Mr. Carter?” asked Dr. Lanville, listening to Nick’s chest with his stethoscope.
“No... just a little light-headed,” murmured Nick. The overhead lights were too bright; they were giving him a headache. He closed his eyes briefly.
“Well, you’re severely dehydrated. Have you been vomiting?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, from now on, try to drink plenty of clear fluids, especially when you’re on chemo. And avoid carbonated drinks; they actually dehydrate the body even more. We’ll get you rehydrated and go from there. I’ll be speaking with Dr. Kingsbury, and we’ll decide what else needs to be done.”
“I’m okay,” Nick said stubbornly, wanting to avoid having to spend any considerable amount time in the hospital at all costs. “I feel much better now.”
The doctor gave him a tight smile. “We just want to make sure of that.”
***
"Hey, missed me, did you?”
Nick smiled tiredly as Dr. Kingsbury bustled into the room. “Something like that,” he replied.
She chuckled. “So, I hear you passed out tonight?”
Nick groaned, still humiliated by that. “Yes,” he admitted. “I’m okay though – they said I was just dehydrated.”
“Well, yes, that was probably just it. Have you been vomiting a lot then lately?”
“Yeah... oh, I was gonna ask you about that. That anti-nausea stuff you gave me – it’s not really working.”
Dr. Kingsbury gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry,” she said. “They don’t have the same effect on every patient.”
“Well, can I take a higher dosage then or something?”
“I’m afraid not. Keep taking them; I’m sure they’re helping somewhat. I see you’re having to deal with some of the other side effects, too.” Nick stared blankly, wondering what other side effects, when he saw her eyes travel upward to his head.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “My hair’s falling out.” He raised his hand self-consciously, his thinning head of hair feeling bald without the usual hat he wore. The nurse had removed the hat he had had on earlier; it was now shoved in a bag under the bed, along with his other clothes.
“I know that’s got to be tough, especially for you,” Dr. Kingsbury said knowingly. But Nick was offended. What did she mean, ‘especially for you’? Did she think he was some vain, arrogant, self-worshiping prick? She must have noticed his expression, for she quickly added, “I just mean because you’re such a celebrity and a heartthrob.” She batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly, gaining a laugh from Nick.
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, heartthrob, that’s me,” he muttered sarcastically. “Not anymore.”
Dr. Kingsbury smiled sadly. “You haven’t, uh, told the public about this yet, have you?” Nick shook his head, looking down. “I didn’t think so. I hadn’t heard about it on the news or anything yet. Not that I really keep up with the entertainment business much anymore, but... well anyway, if you’re planning to hold a press conference sometime and want me to speak, let me know.”
Nick smiled graciously. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem. Now,” she said, “getting back to business here, have you had any other symptoms lately? Dizziness, shortness of breath, bruising, pain?”
“No, not really,” Nick said. “It’s mostly just the nausea. And I’ve been really tired all weak, but that’s from the chemo too, right?”
She nodded. “Well, I don’t want to keep you here for too long then. I’d like to do some bloodwork, just to make sure things look all clear, and we’ll probably keep you overnight just to check on you, but you’ll be able to go home bright and early tomorrow. We can save the usual round of tests for your appointment in two weeks.”
Nick nodded, relieved.
“I’ll have a nurse come in shortly to take blood, and then you’ll be moved to a room upstairs so you can get some sleep. It’s late, and I’m sure you’re exhausted. I’ll be in to check on you in the morning.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Dr. Kingsbury left, and Nick let his eyelids fall closed, relieved to be left alone. The doctor was right; he was exhausted.
***
