by Mel Gough
Donnie let himself be led but pulled away from Ben once they got to the bathroom. “Can manage,” he mumbled, embarrassment coloring his pallid cheeks.
Ben let him go reluctantly. “Alright, but don’t lock the door. I’ll wait right here.” Donnie was gone a long ten minutes, and Ben was getting worried. But just when he had decided to go check on Donnie, the bathroom door opened. Ben grabbed for him just as the other man’s knees gave way. His face was gray and sweaty, and he felt impossibly hot in Ben’s arms.
“Got ya, buddy. It’s okay.” Ben looked around frantically. A male nurse was just passing, and Ben waved the man over. “Can you give us a hand? I think my friend’s gonna pass out.”
The nurse hurried to get a wheelchair, and Ben lowered Donnie into it. As soon as he was sitting down, Donnie curled up, sobbing.
“Let’s find a bed for you,” the nurse said and pushed the wheelchair into the triage area of the ER, which was surprisingly quiet. He disappeared for a couple of minutes, then came back with a chart and beckoned Ben to follow. “Right this way.”
The nurse wheeled Donnie into a curtained-off area, where he helped him out of the chair and onto a narrow bed. Donnie rolled onto his right side and pulled his legs up tightly against his body. He was shaking hard.
“I’ve got to ask you a few questions. I’ll be really quick,” the nurse said gently. “I’m Paul, by the way.”
“Okay,” Donnie breathed. Ben stepped closer to the bed.
Paul asked Donnie’s name, date of birth, and when the pain had started. When he asked for Donnie’s insurance details, Donnie turned his head away and said nothing. Paul gave a sympathetic smile and patted Donnie’s arm briefly.
“Don’t worry about it.” He put another tick on the clipboard, then turned to go. “The doctor will be here in a few minutes. You’re lucky. It’s really quiet tonight.” He left, pulling the curtain closed behind himself. Ben went over to Donnie and stroked his hair. Donnie buried his face in the pillow with another sob.
It really only took five minutes until a doctor in green scrubs and a lab coat peeked through the curtains. He looked very young, but gave them a reassuring smile as he came over to the bed.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Singh.” He looked at his clipboard. “It’s Donnie, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Donnie, can you lie on your back for a few minutes, so I can examine you?”
“Okay.” Donnie stretched out on his back with a groan, and Ben helped him rearrange his pillow. Donnie’s right hand was clutching at the sheets hard. Ben’s heart hurt to see Donnie in so much pain. Feeling miserable for the other man, Ben put one hand on Donnie’s shoulder.
Dr. Singh stepped close, but before he could touch him, Donnie lifted his hand. “Wait…” He looked around at Ben, and Ben was dismayed to see tears in Donnie’s eyes. He suddenly had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Donnie kept looking at him, anguish etched onto his face. Ben reached out to grasp Donnie’s hand, but Donnie pulled it away. Then he took a deep breath and glanced back at the doctor.
“Ya gotta be careful. I-I’m positive…”
It took a moment for Ben to realize what Donnie meant. When the words finally hit home, all the air suddenly disappeared from his lungs. He stared at Donnie, whose eyes were brimming with tears. This explained so much. Why hadn’t he guessed sooner?
But the shock only lasted a second. Ben took a deep breath to steady himself. With deliberate gentleness, he picked up Donnie’s hand from where he had balled it into a fist on the bed. A single tear spilled over and slid down Donnie’s face. Not breaking eye contact, Ben lifted Donnie’s hand to his lips and kissed his fingers, then held them tight. He could feel tears prickling at the corners of his own eyes, too. Nobody spoke for a moment. Donnie closed his eyes, his breath hitching in his throat.
At last, Dr. Singh broke the silence. “Did you recently change medication, Donnie?” He went over to a cabinet, took some gloves from a box, and pulled them on. The doctor wanted to calm Donnie’s fears. A simple examination posed no risk of infection.
“Yeah,” Donnie said quietly. “My viral load went up, so the doc switched one of my pills. New one’s called Retrovir.”
“When did he switch you over?” Dr. Singh pushed up Donnie’s shirt, then pressed carefully on his stomach, and Donnie flinched, gripping Ben’s hand hard.
“‘Bout two weeks ago. Been gettin’ worse an’ worse since…ouch!”
“I’m sorry, Donnie.” The doctor withdrew his hands. “I want to run a few more tests, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got acute pancreatitis. It’s unfortunately not an uncommon side effect with Retrovir. There are a few other drugs in that same category available. I’ll switch you to one of them for the time being.” He pulled Donnie’s shirt down again. “Do you know why your doctor chose Retrovir?”
With a grimace of pain, Donnie tried to roll back over onto his side but couldn’t manage on his own. Ben helped him, then put one hand on Donnie’s neck, stroking him gently.
Donnie’s arms went back around his middle, and he shuddered. “Can’t afford the others. I’m on this NGO program, getting help with the meds. They don’t pay for the pills my doc said he’d usually prescribe.”
“Hmm.” The doctor frowned. “We’re a county hospital, so you get your acute treatment free. Before you leave, I’ll make sure you get a few weeks’ supply of a drug you can tolerate.”
“Okay.” Donnie had started to shiver, the sweat that had soaked into his T-shirt cooling him down in the air-conditioned ER. He drew his legs up as tightly as he could and closed his eyes with a groan. Ben pulled the blankets up over his trembling shoulders.
“Can you give him something for the pain?” he asked the doctor.
“No…no morphine,” Donnie gasped.
Ben frowned and leaned down, gently pushing strands of sweaty hair off Donnie’s forehead. “You’re allowed painkillers, buddy. I can’t bear to see you like this.” He glanced up at Dr. Singh. “Donnie’s got a history of drug abuse, but he’s been clean for several years.”
The doctor put a hand on Donnie’s arm. “Let’s start with codeine. You’re unlikely to get addicted to that in a few days. I’ll also prescribe some IV NSAIDs and pancreatic enzyme tablets. You’ll start to feel better quickly once we get those into you. I’ll have Paul come back in a moment and give you the meds, then get you admitted and the tests organized.”
“Do I have to stay?” Donnie asked, his voice very small.
The doctor nodded gravely. “I’m afraid so. We’ll have to give you fluids and nutrients. You won’t be able to eat anything while your pancreas is this inflamed. And we need to monitor it closely for necrosis.”
Donnie shuddered again, and Ben looked at him closely. “You going to be sick?”
Donnie nodded miserably. Dr. Singh grabbed a plastic basin for Ben, who got it under Donnie just in time. Donnie only brought up a little bile, then whimpered and curled up tightly again.
The doctor’s expression was full of sympathy. “We’ll get you admitted now. I’ll go and arrange everything. Try and rest.”
He left, and Ben pulled a chair up close to the bed. Donnie’s feverish eyes watched him. Ben lifted his hand and stroked Donnie’s cheek gently, surprising them both.
“You were scared to tell me, about the HIV.” The realization made Ben sad, and he had to swallow hard to keep the tears at bay. Now he understood why Donnie had been so spooked about him caring for the cut on his eyebrow, after Floyd’s beating.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to— My viral load’s been undetectable for over a year, and when we met…I’d only just found out the meds weren’t working no more, couple days before Sergeant Browne picked me up.” Donnie’s eyes clouded with pain again, and Ben put a hand on his neck.
“You were worried for nothing, buddy,” he said gently. “I’m not going anywhere. This doesn’t change a thing between us.”
A tear ran down Donnie’s temple and disappeared into his
hair. He groped for Ben’s other hand and gripped it tightly. Ben squeezed his fingers.
“Why did you let this get so bad, though?” he asked. “Why didn’t you stop taking the pills?”
“Doc told me they’d get my viral load down. I’m scared, Ben.”
“Scared of what?”
“Getting sick. Infecting someone.”
Ben rubbed his face and sighed. “Oh, buddy, I’m so sorry.” This was awful. Donnie was trying so hard to do the right thing, following his doctor’s instructions to the letter. But it wasn’t good enough. The poor guy was terrified out of his mind and suffering more now than before for his troubles. Ben racked his brain for something to say that would make Donnie feel better, but nothing came to mind.
“I’m sorry,” Donnie whispered after a while.
“Nothing to be sorry about. You rest now. We can talk more when you feel better.”
But Donnie groaned and tried to push himself up. “Shit…”
“Bathroom?” Ben asked.
“Yeah.”
Ben barely managed to get Donnie to the nearest restroom. He was so weak, he could hardly walk. Yet he still pulled away from Ben and went into the single-occupancy bathroom alone. When he finally reemerged, he was shaking all over, and Ben as good as carried him back to their curtained area.
He was just helping Donnie lie down on the bed when Paul reappeared. “Ah, you’re back. I was wondering where you’d gone.”
“Sorry,” Donnie breathed. Paul put on gloves and came over with syringes and needles.
“That’s okay,” he said. “You feeling any better?” When Donnie shook his head, the nurse grimaced in commiseration. He raised a syringe. “Can I have your arm? This will definitely help. Let’s get you dosed up and admitted, then you can rest.”
Paul worked swiftly but was exceedingly gentle and explained each step. He put an IV in the back of Donnie’s hand, and the needle went in so quickly that Donnie hardly even flinched.
Paul injected a syringe into the new port. “This is the codeine. You’ll feel it working really quickly.” He then poured a small amount of water into a plastic glass and selected two tablets from a small bottle. “And these are the enzymes. They’ll help your pancreas to rest, and it’ll start to heal faster.” He helped Donnie swallow the tablets and waited a minute to see that they stayed down. Then he selected a different syringe. “I’ll need to take some blood now, Donnie.”
There was real fear in Donnie’s eyes, and Ben took his hand. Paul said reassuringly, “I’ll be really careful, I promise. Look.” He held up his hands. “Special gloves, extra thick. I’m safe.” He glanced at Ben as Donnie relaxed a little. “It’s nice of you to worry about us, Donnie. Most people couldn’t care less.”
By the time Paul had helped Donnie change into a hospital gown and hooked him up to a saline drip, Donnie’s eyes were starting to glaze over as the painkillers took effect. Relief flooded Ben when the awful pain finally drained from Donnie’s face. He squeezed Donnie’s hand.
“Go to sleep, buddy. The worst is over now.”
“Hmm,” Donnie hummed, curled up, and was asleep in under a minute. Shortly after, two orderlies appeared and wheeled Donnie on his bed into an elevator and took him to the ICU. Ben went with them. He gently woke Donnie when they got into the single occupancy room, and helped him crawl onto the big bed there. He covered him with blankets as the orderlies hung Donnie’s IV on a stand. Then the two men left and took the ER bed with them. Donnie was asleep again before the door closed behind them.
Chapter Twelve
“IS THIS ALRIGHT?” Ben asked, looking Donnie over critically. Donnie lay curled up on his right, tense and pale. “Not too high?”
“Maybe a little.”
Ben pressed the button on the remote control again, and the top half of the hospital bed descended a few inches. “Better?”
“Yeah, much. Thanks.”
Ben sat down in the chair by the bed and took Donnie’s hand, which was hot and clammy. Donnie was breathless and very white. He had woken up a few minutes ago, squirming in discomfort but refusing the offer of more painkillers. All he’d wanted was for Ben to help him turn onto his side, and put the bed up a little bit.
Now Ben drew small circles on the inside of Donnie’s wrist while Donnie recovered from the effort of moving around. Every small exertion was an ordeal for the sick man, and Ben’s heart hurt for him.
“I really should ring for more painkillers. You don’t look so good, buddy.”
Donnie shook his head. “Nah, s’okay now.” His gaze found Ben’s, and Ben marveled at the indigo color. Even dulled with the painkillers, Donnie’s eyes shone like none Ben had ever seen. The sick man gave a wan smile. “It’s real nice, that yer staying.”
“‘Course I’m staying,” Ben said, a little uneasy. “You’re unwell. I’m worried. I wanna be with you, buddy.”
A shadow passed behind the blue eyes, and Donnie looked suddenly sad. “This ain’t gonna be fun, ya know that, right? I don’t get it, man.”
“Don’t get what?”
There was a small pause. “Why ya wanna be with me.” The words were barely audible, and Donnie’s gaze slid off Ben into the distance.
Ben’s heart gave a spasm of sorrow. “Dunno ‘bout you, but I got no control over who I fall in love with,” he said just as quietly.
Donnie’s fingers on his tightened, but he still kept his eyes averted. “Yer real brave.”
“How so?” Ben asked.
Now Donnie did look at him, and his gaze was full of disbelief, as if Ben’s question had been the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “Aren’t ya scared at all?”
It was clear what Donnie was asking, but Ben was loath to give him what he wanted. Ben had a point to make, and he wanted to be clear from the get-go where he was standing. “‘Course I’m scared,” he said, steeling himself against the hurt and surprised expression on Donnie’s face. “I’m scared all the time. Scared that I will get shot at work by some random mad guy, that our budget gets cut more and I lose my job, that something happens to Laura, that—” That Helen takes my child away from me. He stopped himself from voicing that particular fear out loud. “That something happens to you,” he added instead. “That you’ll be in more pain, that you’ll get sicker, that I won’t be able to help you. All that scares me shitless.”
“I don’t mean—” Donnie began, but Ben shook his head and leaned forward slightly.
“I know what you mean, Donnie,” he said quietly. “Am I scared you’re gonna infect me? Not one bit. You’re much too careful. And you understand the virus much better than you think. I can already tell.” He looked down at their intertwined fingers. “But yeah, I’m scared about this. I’m scared that something bad will happen, just…just when I found you.”
He sought out Donnie’s gaze again. “I’m scared that I won’t be strong enough, that I’m not what you need, that-that you won’t need me…” This complete honesty was almost unbearable for Ben. The sense of vulnerability was overwhelming and not something he was used to. Telling Donnie how he really felt was the only way he could think of to deal with both their deepest fears. Hearing about Donnie’s HIV had been a shock, but they could be strong for each other, as long as they were honest about their feelings.
“I’m not planning on going anywhere, man,” Donnie said, and there was a small smile on his lips. Ben returned that smile, feeling relieved. That was the fighting spirit they needed.
“You’re so much stronger than you think, buddy.”
Donnie looked briefly surprised, then thoughtful. “I s’pose this really helps.”
“What’s that?”
Donnie’s eyes were bright now with fresh determination and affection. “Having a reason to keep fighting.”
BEN SPENT THE day at the hospital, feeling dizzy with tiredness, and soon sick from the tepid vending machine coffee and the stale snacks that were all he could find on his brief forays into the ICU corridors.
&nb
sp; It was getting late when Donnie woke again, looking bleary. Ben was still sitting slumped in the chair next to the bed, but quickly straightened up. “Hey, Donnie. How’re you feeling?”
Donnie considered the question. “Dopey,” he said finally. Then his hand disappeared under the blanket and onto his stomach.
Ben frowned. “Still hurting, huh?”
“S’okay.” Donnie shrugged. Then he suddenly looked worried. “Ya been here all day? What’s the time?”
“Almost ten. You were pretty out of it. I’m glad you got some rest.”
“Ya should go home, Ben.”
“D’you not want me here?” Ben said quietly, and was immediately sorry for asking when Donnie looked at him, hurt.
“‘Course I want ya… but ya gotta sleep, too.”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Ben said, adamant.
Donnie thought for a moment, then pushed himself up. “Help me, will ya?”
Ben supported Donnie as he moved himself to the far side of the bed gingerly, trying not to get tangled in the IV lines and machine wires. “What are we doing, buddy?”
“Makin’ space.”
“For what?”
“Yerself,” Donnie panted, out of breath. He patted the bed next to himself. “Get in.”
Ben grinned, slipped off his shoes, and climbed onto the mattress carefully. Donnie watched him, eyes soft. As soon as Ben was lying down, he scooted close and settled himself against Ben’s chest with a sigh.
“Strange firs’ night together,” he muttered, already half asleep again.
Ben smiled and stroked the back of Donnie’s neck. “I don’t mind, buddy.”
“Me either, Ben.”
Chapter Thirteen
IT WAS THE middle of the night and pitch black when Ben was woken abruptly by a moaning and shivering Donnie in his arms. He couldn’t see anything and quickly felt for the light switch behind them. When the overhead light flickered on, Donnie’s face was gray and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
“What is it, buddy?”