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Laconism
by ThisRandomFolk
I feel everything. I'm sure I'm alive. Yet.. there's nothing here. No sound, no light. Instinctively, I place my hand on my throat. I speak. It vibrates, yet I cannot -hear- it. I blink my eyes open and then close them firmly. Nothing. I know I'm in bed, I remember going to sleep, and these are still my sheets. Yet why the fuck can't I hear? See? What is going -on-? Well, since I'm a fucking doctor, I should know well enough that now is the time to dial 911. I fumble toward my nightstand and locate the desired object, the phone. I toy around with the keys until I find my desired series, 9 1 1. I wait for several seconds before holding a finger to my throat and speaking "I'm a doctor. I cannot hear nor see right now. I need help sent right now, and I'm headed to Princeton plains hospital." I recite my address and then yell "I am not kidding- this is an emergency." and hang up. I wait, and then realize I should probably head to the door. I get up, fumble for my cane, and find my way to the door. Having done this same route several times when I was blind with drunkness, I can get there without major harm to myself. I open the door and place myself just outside it.. and wait. I wait until I feel a rough hand grab my shoulder. I wait as I'm guided down the steps and onto a familiar thing.. a stretcher. A smaller hand, probably female, grabs my hand and spells "you're in an ambulance." I nod and say "Really sherlock, wouldn't have figured by the fact that I'm on a fucking bed in an uncomfortably moving vehicle." The hand grabs my own again, and I groan in frustration. This is going to be slow. "Have you.. been like this?" "Clearly not!" I yell in a voice so loud I feel it's vibrations bouncing to my skin. "Any head injury?" "Nope." "Anyone you want us to call?" "Dr. James Wilson. He'll probably be around, he's busy crying over getting some patient who's dead in a year anyways into some drug trial. And get me a fucking interpreter." One of my less-known skills is that I'm fluent in sign language. Not being able to see the signs might present a problem, but working with a deafblind patient taught me that touching signs is enough to understand them. That word, deafblind, it scares me. That's what I am now, isn't it? How the fuck did this happen? There is no usual option for why someone suddenly loses their hearing and sight so completely. I have no light perception, I'm sure of that. She shined a light into my eye, I felt it's .. warmth, yet I saw nothing.
Finally, I feel the wheels moving beneath me, and then I'm down. I wait as I feel the wind rushing past my face, and the smooth click of the wheels on pavement. The same hand grabs my own and says "wilson here." I move my face into a smile and wait for some form of contact from my friend. He shows it in the form of a firm hand on my own. He signs "what's going on." and I speak my reply "I.. don't know. I just woke up and.. nothing. I didn't hit my head. I didn't do -anything. It just.. stopped." His hand returns to my own and he signs "we're going to get you into bed, you can manage okay?" I nod. I may be a cripple, but I can still move from a bed without being carried. I step down and feel his hand guide my own to his elbow, and move me until we hit an object that's clearly a bed. I feel around and then get on, enjoying the relief from standing without my cane. I feel a second body find it's way on my bed and he signs "You're going to be okay." This time, I sign my reply, unsure of who is in the room "Who is in here?" "Just you and me. They're setting up a ct scan and mri right now." I nod.
When those are over, I'm back in my room. Wilson was always around, one way or another, for which I'm thankful. I couldn't do this without him. He signs "Still want that interpreter?" and I speak back "No. You're okay." He guides my hand up to his face, and traces his mouth. It's in the form of a smile. Classic James, bringing sunshine to any situation. "They found nothing." I panic inwardly. So much for sunshine.
I'm crying. This is too much. I can't deal with not knowing, not understanding. Not when it's -me- we are talking about. I ask the only thing that could comfort me right now. "When can I leave?" "Since the doctors are finding nothing, and there's no real medical emergency, you'll be discharged in the morning with appointments with an audiologist, optamologist, and rehab specialist." I nod. A man losing two senses clearly isn't an emergency. I ask my next question "where do I go?" and he replies the one thing that could comfort me. "With me. A fellow in oncology is taking over my work, and you're on medical leave." I sign my reply, "You don't know .. how thankful I am. I'm scared." He signs back, slowly, as though giving each one thought "I am too."
A sleepless night later, I'm back in my own home. In my own bed, safe. Wilson taps my shoulder and says "food." I nod and feel around the tray presented to me. I dig a fork into the dish and eat. Eggs. Not bad, either. I speak between a bite "thanks." It's tough to be harsh when you're this scared.
The therapist is a bitch. She gives me this stupid plastic sheet and signs to me that I need to run my fingers over the raised print letters and learn the braille letters beneath them, and that I can use this thing to communicate for others right now. I try and put up with it, but it's overwhelming. Suddenly, a small plastic device with two buttons is thrust into my hand. "Miniguide" she spells out, and then adds "push the button. it'll vibrate if you're nearing an object, the faster, the closer. It'll help." I nod and accept this item happily. This one might come in useful, given the fact that my own cane is useless for mobility and I sure can't carry two. I test it, navigating around the room, gaining an idea of the space. Handy little thing.
The drive back home is dull. There's nothing. No music, nothing to see. No reason. I feel empty aside from the comfort that being around him gives. Now more than anything, I crave touch. When we finally stop and he guides me up the steps and in the door, I do the only thing I can. I grab his shoulders and then guide my hands down, holding him in a hug that makes it.. okay. He signs into my hand "what was that?" and I reply, "need to touch." I've seen this in newly blind patients. While they're working on relearning their world, they tend to have this.. desire, need, to touch anything and everything, in attempt to understand what changed. Yet I know it's beyond that, beyond simple.
He drags a hand up to his face. It's contorted into a frown. I sigh. I speak the only word I can force out of my no-longer sharp mouth, "why?" I feel his laugh vibrate through me "You never told me." I frown myself this time. "I never told you what?" "That I'm not just a friend." "What makes you think that?" "You looked like you wanted to melt in my arms." "Oh." "This is for another day. Lets get to bed right now." I get back to my room, using the silent hum of the mini-guides' vibrations to assure I don't trip over objects lying around the house. I'm finally undressed and between my own sheets not a minute later. I feel the bed vibrate beneath me, and when I turn over, I feel that second body sleeping next to me. It turns around and signs "goodnight" and the weight of the day does me in. I'm out for the count.
I wake up to the warmth of the suns rays. It's funny how I'm learning to honestly experience the details I can no longer hear nor see. I'm understanding them better now. The gentle tap the sun does on my face sings a reassuring song, reminding me that the sun will always rise again- I will find myself. For a brief moment, I have hope.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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