... it's day 9.
And you can take all the pain away from me
A kiss and I will surrender
The sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead"
("The Sharpest Lives" My Chemical Romance)
A/N: I didn't like Day 9. But hey, iwillstakeyourheart actually helped out with this one AND pretty much wrote the little bit of Kat POV. She thinks she sucks as a writer, but I was right there holding her hand and egging her on (I don't think you suck, cupcake!). I just felt that this "day" deserved to have that perspective in there after what went down in the middle of the night on Day 8 and since I didn't write any more on Day 8 at all.
DAY 9: AT 6:04AM
I had not really slept well since I had walked in on Gerard having his "last drink". I really wanted to believe him. I wanted to have faith in him that he knew what he was doing. When he told me the part about the "ritual" that did make sense to me. I had known him a long time and there had been other things he did that gave credence to that explanation - like when he and his band had to do this whole high five thing before every show. I guess he really was superstitious. But I still worried. I hated myself for feeling that too but truth be told I was disappointed in him. He had really been suffering for days, but he was surviving. He'd even broken that beer bottle in his hand rather than drink it, and now this? I couldn't push the thought out of my head that it was another excuse because by this point I'd heard a lot of them. I tried to convince myself that all the other times it was the alcohol doing the talking. This last week was as far as he'd ever come in getting over the addiction. In the past, he wouldn't even admit he had a problem. I had to believe in him now.
And I was trying my best to be the strong women he believed me to be, but everything he was going through was taking its toll. I found myself wanting a drink, just to help me relax. I even felt bad about that. It was starting to stress me out just to deal with him, but I was sure it couldn't compare to what he was going through. He was a lot stronger than he thought.
I finally just sat up in bed. There was only a small beam of light coming in through the blinds but it was enough that I could see him lying next to me sleeping. He was on his side facing me. I reached out and lightly pushed his hair out of his face. He looked so young, even with the dark circles under his eyes. I swore the guy either had really good genes or he'd been baptized in the fountain of youth. Every now and then he would shift or twitch in his sleep. I wished I knew exactly what was going on in his mind. Next week I had to go back to work and I just hoped that I wouldn't come home to find him having another "ritual". I didn't even know if he was going to stay here or go back to that cave he called a room in the basement of his parents house. I was hoping he would stay with me. It had been so long since we were able to just spend time together. Every time he went out on the road, I missed him, but I knew it's what he wanted – and needed – to do. We'd never denied each other our own dreams but now more than ever I felt like he needed me. We needed each other.
DAY 9: SOMETIME IN THE MORNING
What the fuck? It's ... blood? Why am I spitting out blood? I don't have any pain. Fuck ... oh god ... my teeth. I'm spitting out teeth? My teeth are falling out? Oh fuck! What the hell? No. This can't be happening! Maybe I can put them back in? All the bloody holes are there ... just ... god ... I can't pick them up ... they keep slipping through my fingers ... why did I have to have such small teeth?
"Ahhhh! What the fuck! Who the fuck are you? How'd you get in my bathroom?"
"Oh Gerard. I'm starting to get a little butt hurt that you never recognize me. Every time is like the first time."
"Every time? Fuck ... get out of my way ... I have to get my teeth out of the sink ... there's blood all over place ..."
"You know what I think? I think you should turn them all in for wishes."
"You know. Put 'em under your pillow. You could wish for new teeth!"
"Who the fuck are you?"
"This game is growing quite old. I'm what, er, who you see in the mirror dear, sweet, Gerard."
"Must be a two-way fucking mirror because you don't look like me."
"You can't handle the truth ... yet."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Better get those teeth before they go down the drain ..."
What the ... fuck?
DAY 9: AT 8:08AM
Uh ... huh ... fuck. Oww. I'm fuckin' ... oh jeez ... hard? But my teeth ... oh good ... my teeth are still there. Fuck ... where's Kat? She's not here? Where'd she go? Urgh ... my stomach hurts ... fuck ... gotta ... piss ... what time is it? Erooph ... I feel like crap. I didn't eat that much yesterday. Maybe that's why? Oh shit. Maybe it was the vodka? That was like a day ago though. Fuck that wasn't that much booze. That wasn't enough to make me feel like shit all over again was it? No ... I still feel like shit from the 3 week bender I went on ... that's it. I don't want Kat to know I'm up. Don't want to bother her. Just close the door quietly. Gah. I still look like hell. Why would I dream about my teeth all falling out? That was fucked up. God I have to piss so bad it hurts. Fuck. I can't think of this as a bad thing though ... it's normal ... right? I'd forgotten what normal was. Crap. Who am I kidding? I didn't forget ... I was just too fucking wasted. Okay, just concentrate. Fuck ... I don't wanna make a mess. Would Kat be mad at me for that?
DAY 9: AT 11:25AM
"Gerard? I think that's your cell phone ..."
Where did I leave that thing? Oh, I think it's on the coffee table. Yeah, I remember putting it there after I talked to Frank yesterday.
"May I speak to Mr. Way?"
Shit. Who the fuck is this?
"Uh, this is."
"Oh, hello, this is Kelly from Dr. Rand's office. We have your lab results in and I'm calling to see if you could come in today so the doctor can review those with you?"
Oh fuck ... the lab results ... I forgot all about those. Shit.
"Uh, well um, I guess I could get in there. It won't take long will it?"
"Oh no, it should be a fairly quick visit. Would 3:30 work for you?"
"We'll see you then."
"Who was it?"
"Uh ... well, it was the doctor's office. Guess I get to find out if I'm going to die today."
"Gerard ... don't talk like that. So the lab results are in I take it?"
"Yeah. I have to go over there at 3:30."
"I can come with you, if you want. Besides I'd like to pick up some groceries while we're out. We can get some things off that food list of yours."
"Okay, sure. It's probably good for me to fucking face the world anyway. Oh and Kat? Thanks."
DAY 9: AT 3:20PM
I signed in and Kat and I took a seat in the waiting room. She was holding my hand, but it was sweating so much I was sure it was grossing her out. I felt like I was going to hurl. My stomach was in knots. I was bouncing my right knee frantically trying to channel all the shakiness I felt down into my foot. I was absolutely terrified to hear what the results of those tests were. Time seemed to stand fucking still. Of course my brain could think of nothing but the worst case scenario – 'Oh Mr. Way, I'm sorry but the results show you only have 3 months to live!' God, I was such a fucking fatalist sometimes. I tried to just repeat over and over in my head that everything would be okay.
"Gerard? You can come on back now."
Kat gave my hand a squeeze as I got up.
"Is that your girlfriend?"
Why the fuck would she ask me that?
"She can come back with you if you like."
Oh. Fuck. That couldn't be good. They know I need her for support when they give me the bad news. Just be chill. Everything will be okay.
"Um, Kat? They said you can come back with me if you want."
I saw the question in her eyes – did I want her to come back. I nodded my head and she got up and walked with me into Dr. Rand's small office.
"Hello, Gerard. And you are?"
"Oh, I'm Kat."
"Nice to meet you, Kat. Please, have a seat."
"First of all, how have you been feeling this week, Gerard?"
Just swallow ... breath ... don't fixate on your heart beat ... don't ring your hands ... just sit fucking still. I can do this.
"Well, it's been tough, but every day it gets a little better."
"Have you been eating foods from the list I gave you?"
"Um, yeah, kinda. I've been trying. We're actually gonna go to the store to get some of that stuff today."
"Have you had any more to drink since I saw you last?"
Fuck. I wasn't expecting her to ask that.
"Um ... well, I kinda had one drink the other night ... but it was my last drink. I had to kind of make it official."
"Okay, well that is good to hear. And it looks like your friends and family are there to support you."
"Have you thought about going to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting?"
Eh, AA. Fuck ... I don't know about that.
"Um, no ... hadn't really thought about it."
"I often recommend that my patients in your situation go to a group such as that as it usually helps them to be around others that are going through the same symptoms and feelings."
That's it. Default to the one word answers. Just keep calm. Why hasn't she mentioned those fucking results yet? Although, I guess if she wants to send me to AA meetings that means I'm going to live.
"Here's a listing of meeting times and places local to you. There's no obligation of course."
"Okay, let's go over your lab results."
Fuck. Just breathe.
"As I suspected you are definitely suffering from slight malnutrition. This is very easy to remedy though simply by eating more foods from the list I gave you as well as taking a multi vitamin. Before you leave, I'm going to have the nurse give you a vitamin shot to start you off."
A ... shot? Oh fuck ... Kat just squeezed my hand again. She knows I fucking hate needles.
"Do you get any exercise?"
"Well, on stage is definitely exercise but we don't have another show for a few weeks."
"I would definitely recommend something in the interim. You need to get your lymphatic system moving to help with the detox of chemicals. So aerobic exercise or anything that gets your heart rate up would work for that."
Did she just look at Kat and ... smile? What the fuck is that?
"Also, as I suspected you have slight steatosis of the liver."
Oh shit. What is that?
"Is th-that like, bad?"
"It is a precursor to more serious liver disease. It's very important that you abstain from any more alcohol and you start eating the healthier diet I'm suggesting."
Fuck ... liver disease? That's fucking bad.
"You're very lucky that you are catching this now. How has your stomach been? Any more nausea, vomiting, diarrhea?"
"Um, I had a stomach ache this morning. I thought it might have just been something I ate."
"Often alcohol abuse does cause gastritis as well. This is also something that can be helped through a change in diet and of course abstaining from alcohol."
"Okay, so basically I'll live right?"
"Yes, Gerard, you'll live, but as I said it's very important that you stay away from alcohol. If you had continued to drink you would have done irreparable damage to your liver. Also you'll really need to watch what you eat. I noticed that you had put down on the original intake questionnaire that you smoke. Sometimes that can aggravate steatosis, so you may want to consider giving that up as well."
Shit. I like smoking. It's like the only fucking vice I have left.
"What would happen if I didn't?"
"Well, I'm sure you know there is also plenty of evidence of other health risks to smoking."
"Yeah ... it's just ... one thing at a time, ya know?"
"Of course. So if you go back out front I'll tell the nurse to take you for your shot. And it was nice meeting you, Kat."
"Oh, nice meeting you as well."
I don't want a fucking shot.
"Okay, Gerard, if you'd just come right into this room this will only take a second and you two can be on your merry way! And honey, you can stay with him if you'd like. I think I remember he's not too fond of needles."
How the fuck is she so chipper all the time? I bet she just fucking enjoys sticking people with needles.
"No, no he definitely isn't!"
Gah. This fucking sucks. I hate Kat having to see me turn into a fucking jellyfish like this. But it is nice having her hold my hand.
A/N Part II: Fucked up dream, right? I've had dreams where my teeth fall out since this time period and they always happen when I'm really, really stressed out. So I think it's just symbolically a stress thing ... or maybe a helpless or "you can't control it" type of thing. Oh and how about that 8:08AM bit? I'll give you cookie if you can figure out what was going on there. Ha! Although, all it was really about was all the "self talk" going on. Just showing how Gerard here is still feeling pretty crappy but there's another little glimmer of hope that things are very slowly creeping back to normal. All in all though, Day 9 was about those lab results.
Okay. I'm done with this day. Yeah. I'm pretty much just gonna talk about some random shit here. But you knew that right? Right? Spiders. I hate them. Yeah, yeah I know they've got a purpose and shit but that doesn't mean I have to like them. I suspect I have a legitimate phobia of them because there was this one time where I accidentally picked up a dead spider (long story of why but I'll just say I really didn't think it WAS a spider) and I let out this really girly squeal and then did "the spider dance" and was seriously shaking about it. Anyway, Today I was cleaning the bathroom in my pj's, favorite hoodie and slippers when iwillstakeyourheart runs in and says, "Oh. My. God. You have to come here right away there's like one of those fucking poisonous spiders on the steps up to the office!" It seriously gave me the shivers when she said the poisonous spider part. Like I could almost feel my balls just shriveling up right there. Why me? Why couldn't she kill it? Argh. So I grab a shoe and reluctantly head through the house ... through the laundry room ... and come to a halt at the steps up to the office. She's standing behind me with her hands on my shoulders, like trying to will me to have the testicular fortitude to kill the thing. I flip on the light in the hall and there it was. I'm shuddering now just thinking about it. Uhhheeewwww. And it was on the vertical part of the step too, so I had to come at it with the shoe at a weird angle. I decided that the smack-and-run approach would probably be best. So I go up the two steps and take a deep breath, and smack the fucker and then in one single motion hopped back down both stairs, ready to run if the smack only angered it. Luckily, its soft spider body was no match for my Macbeth sneaker. However, there was still the very uncomfortable task of disposing of aforementioned soft (and now crushed halfway into the carpet) spider body. More shivers happened that was for sure. I did get a kiss for, "taking charge of the situation" though.