Thread: Infirm (Ben Robertson x Devilla Roche)

Hi Mr. Robertson! Hi Mrs. Roberston! chirps the girl behind the desk, You both look well today! How do you feel? Doing great Kathy, I reply, gritting my teeth through the pain, needing to sit down soon. I've been to this clinic too many times to count over the last year and by now know not only the staff by name, but their kids and families as well. Milly's been accompanying me for support these last few visits, and smiles politely. I'm here for cocktail hour! Oh you! Kathy laughs, waving me off, I'll let the doctors know you're here and they'll get everything ready for you. You're a peach, I reply, and escort Milly to a seat along the wall. We know the drill by now once the staff knows we've arrived, they go out to extract the milk in the animal lab they have in an outbuilding. I'm not a science-guy but they tell me the medication has a short half-life once it leaves the cow's body so I need to drink it within the hour. Then comes the hard part... nine hours later We're sorry but we just can't let you take him home like this, Mrs. Robertson, the doctor is explaining to Milly, as I lay there on the clinic bed, eyes still clamped shut, stomach cramped into knots. We know it will be getting dark. We know you'll miss dinner. We just gave him another dose of anti-nausea meds, but until he can walk on his own we have to keep him here. This was the worst one so far. Each treatment has left me uneasy with stomach pain afterwards, but this is lasting far longer than the last - and has been much more intense. It's let up a little over the past couple hours but there's still no way I can get up and walk yet. I hear Milly pleading politely with the doctor, but I know we'll be here at least until nightfall. The medicine did what it's supposed to the horrible pain I was feeling as my shrinking, softening long bones were starting to pull themselves away from the rest of my body's tissues is almost entirely gone. The rest of me has started shrinking to keep pace. I measured in at just over 5'11 earlier today I'm sure I'll be a bit under that next time we check. The disease is horrible and painful. An extremely rare condition that - in all other cases recorded so far before mine - has been 100 fatal. This new treatment - feeding me medicine through milk that's been produced by a cow with a specially irradiated pituitary gland - is entirely experimental and obviously far from perfect. I don't know anymore, truth be told, if the disease is any worse than the treatment. Not only have I been having to come back here more and more frequently as the disease isn't slowed by the therapy but is actually moving faster, but each treatment is more and more excruciating. How soon will it be that my life is just an endless series of treatments? Immediately trading one type of pain for the other? The discussion above me, between my wife and doctors, has apparently reached the same topic. Mr. Robertson..? Ben..? Dr. Matthews says, a hand on my shoulder, Can you-? Yes yes! I blurt, my eyes popping open, my smile fixing itself across strained cheeks, I'm fine. Just resting my eyes! Okay, he continues, and I'm painfully aware of the pity in the gazes of all these people in the room, looking down on me under my thin clinic blanket. I hate having Milly - or anyone else - see me like this. I was just explaining to Mrs. Robertson that the team is going to be spending the next few days hard at work in the lab. We're going to be doing our best to come up with a better option for you. This line of treatment may not be- Okay, I understand, Doc, I manage, giving my best, strongest look of tenacity, But I think once I'm - uuuunnnnggghhh ... The staff all exchange worried looks. Milly's hand comes to rest on my arm. ...through this one... I breathe, my rigor-mortis smile back again, ...everything will start to turn around... Doc Matthews squeezes my shoulder. We'll talk next week.