Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Can Always Quit Tomorrow
"What time is the specialist going to get here?" Mikey asked the doctor. He just wanted to get this night done with. Maybe there was still a light of hope in the distance for his brother.
"Most likely not for a few hours. Either way, there's not much, if anything, that they can do until we've removed the alcohol from his system." The doctor replied. He heaved a sigh. He'd seen this play out before, and to be entirely honest, he was sick at tired of it. Tired of having to see men throw away their lives. Tired of seeing them die of addictions they could have easily beat, if only they had asked for help. Tired of having to inform families of the bad news. But most of all, he was tired of not being able to save them all.
Mikey could only nod numbly in response. This was all too much to process for him right now. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, before opening it to speak. The first time he tried, nothing came out. He closed his mouth, taking in a deep breath, before trying again, "He's not going to make it, is he?"
"I'd like to tell you everything is going to be fine. But the reality is, with the condition that he's put his body in, it doesn't look good, even if we manage to fix his throat. I'd suggest you call your parents, and if he has a partner, let them know. "
The younger of the two nodded sadly. As much as he didn't want to ask the question, he had to know. However, once the words came out of the doctor's mouth, that made it all too real. He didn't want to lose his brother. He'd been his best friend since as far back as either of them could remember. Even when they'd grown up, they'd stayed in constant contact, talking and texting constantly and hanging out every chance they'd gotten. For all that to suddenly stop, for Gerard to be here today and gone tomorrow, Mikey didn't think that he could handle it.
Tears began to prick at his eyes, and a few actually made their way down his cheek.
"I understand it's hard to think about." The doctor said, placing a comforting hand on the bassist's shoulder.
He shrugged it off angrily. "You understand? You understand? I fucking hate it when people pretend they know how it feels! What the fuck do you understand about losing someone from something they did to themselves? What do you understand about knowing you could have fucking prevented it but you didn't open your goddamn mouth in time? Huh?! Tell me just what the fuck you 'understand!" He screeched.
The older man heaved a sigh, before saying, "Back in the 80's, I had three sons. My youngest was Scott. He was picked on in school for not being athletic. He acted like it wasn't a big deal, but it bothered him. He started drinking. One day, my wife was cleaning his room, and found empty beer bottles. We sat him down, and talked with him, but he said that he had stopped. I believed him." Here the doctor stopped to take a shaky breath. His voice sounded pained, and behind the glasses, his eyes were watery.
"About 6 months after that, I was at work, and got a call. They'd brought my son into the hospital, covered in his own vomit. It turned out he never stopped drinking, and that day, he had drank himself into a nasty case of alcohol poisoning. By the time I got to the hospital, he was already gone. So yes, I know what it feels like."
"'m sorry." Mikey said. Now that he knew the story, he felt like a complete and utter douchebag for screaming at the doctor like that.
"It's not your fault kid. This isn't an easy situation. I'll be back in a half hour or so to check in on you."
The bassist nodded. He had some phone calls to make.
"Most likely not for a few hours. Either way, there's not much, if anything, that they can do until we've removed the alcohol from his system." The doctor replied. He heaved a sigh. He'd seen this play out before, and to be entirely honest, he was sick at tired of it. Tired of having to see men throw away their lives. Tired of seeing them die of addictions they could have easily beat, if only they had asked for help. Tired of having to inform families of the bad news. But most of all, he was tired of not being able to save them all.
Mikey could only nod numbly in response. This was all too much to process for him right now. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, before opening it to speak. The first time he tried, nothing came out. He closed his mouth, taking in a deep breath, before trying again, "He's not going to make it, is he?"
"I'd like to tell you everything is going to be fine. But the reality is, with the condition that he's put his body in, it doesn't look good, even if we manage to fix his throat. I'd suggest you call your parents, and if he has a partner, let them know. "
The younger of the two nodded sadly. As much as he didn't want to ask the question, he had to know. However, once the words came out of the doctor's mouth, that made it all too real. He didn't want to lose his brother. He'd been his best friend since as far back as either of them could remember. Even when they'd grown up, they'd stayed in constant contact, talking and texting constantly and hanging out every chance they'd gotten. For all that to suddenly stop, for Gerard to be here today and gone tomorrow, Mikey didn't think that he could handle it.
Tears began to prick at his eyes, and a few actually made their way down his cheek.
"I understand it's hard to think about." The doctor said, placing a comforting hand on the bassist's shoulder.
He shrugged it off angrily. "You understand? You understand? I fucking hate it when people pretend they know how it feels! What the fuck do you understand about losing someone from something they did to themselves? What do you understand about knowing you could have fucking prevented it but you didn't open your goddamn mouth in time? Huh?! Tell me just what the fuck you 'understand!" He screeched.
The older man heaved a sigh, before saying, "Back in the 80's, I had three sons. My youngest was Scott. He was picked on in school for not being athletic. He acted like it wasn't a big deal, but it bothered him. He started drinking. One day, my wife was cleaning his room, and found empty beer bottles. We sat him down, and talked with him, but he said that he had stopped. I believed him." Here the doctor stopped to take a shaky breath. His voice sounded pained, and behind the glasses, his eyes were watery.
"About 6 months after that, I was at work, and got a call. They'd brought my son into the hospital, covered in his own vomit. It turned out he never stopped drinking, and that day, he had drank himself into a nasty case of alcohol poisoning. By the time I got to the hospital, he was already gone. So yes, I know what it feels like."
"'m sorry." Mikey said. Now that he knew the story, he felt like a complete and utter douchebag for screaming at the doctor like that.
"It's not your fault kid. This isn't an easy situation. I'll be back in a half hour or so to check in on you."
The bassist nodded. He had some phone calls to make.
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