No. 2 - TALKING IS OVERRATED

@whumptober2021

@whumptober-archive

garotte | choking | gagged

Recovery had been really slow. Painfully slow, really. So long in hospital, Fao had lost track of the endless days dragging by. But he’d gotten out, and gone home, and done the endless appointments and physio and therapy and meds and jumped through all of the hoops they’d given him. Eventually, in an effort to find some of his old freedoms back, he found himself a flat in London, not far from where he’d lived as a student. Not long after moving in he acquired a housemate, through a mutual friend. Fao and Ollie got on really well, they clicked almost immediately, and it was nice to have someone who didn’t pity him, hadn’t known him before. The dog came not long after that, a little scrap of a puppy they found at the side of the road. Arrow was a sweet little thing, though he kept Fao up all hours of the night needing to be bottle fed. He was worth it. It was a purpose again. It made it so much easier to deal with everything when he had a little life depending on him.

He’d even started entertaining the idea of getting a job, which was as terrifying as it was exciting. But before that, he had one final surgery to get through. It was expected, it had been on the cards from the start. He’d spoken at length with his consultant, and it was a necessary evil to get things where they should be. At least it was planned, routine. They could schedule everything, and plan ahead, and nothing was rushed or panicked.

When Fao showed up to the hospital that morning, though, he felt awful. He knew it was the nerves, but he’d slept terribly and he had an awful headache already. It wasn’t exactly off to a good start. Ollie had driven him in, which at least meant he had company, and as he nervously got settled in his bay, he didn’t feel so alone. It really did make a difference.

He hated this side of things. Recently, he hasn’t felt like much of a doctor at all, but being back in hospital just made it so much worse. It was so familiar, it was almost like being teased. He longed to be on the other side, rushing around doing this and that. He’d kill for an elective list, even. Just for something to do. He desperately missed it. He sat chatting to Ollie, which kept him entertained enough, asking about whatever he’d done at work over the last few days. Elective orthopaedics wasn’t that exciting, but it was far more exciting than overthinking everything.

He was so nervous he couldn’t settle, shifting his weight about and fidgeting in his chair. Twice Ollie told him off for crossing his legs. Do you want a dislocation on top of everything else?! He’d asked, exasperated.

He didn’t have to wait long, though. Given his history, he was first on the list, and after speaking to his consultant and his anaesthetist, they took him down to theatre.

They let Ollie down with him, on account of him knowing his way around theatres. It was nice, to have him with him. They’d not known each other long, but Ollie seemed to know just what he needed, just how to keep him calm.

He didn’t even feel the cannula go in, didn’t panic as the drugs went in. Ollie was there, he was safe, and as the world faded to black he was surprisingly calm.

From there, he was intubated and quickly taken into theatre. Ollie was left to wait, and to update Fao’s family. Thankfully, it wasn’t a particularly long surgery, though it took longer than the surgeon had initially estimated.

Eventually, Fao was transferred out into recovery. Ollie could stop pacing the cold theatre corridors, and rushed to be with him. He didn’t come around well, which was standard, apparently - Ollie had never been there before. But Fao had told him, as had Sheila. He held his hand and soothed him through the nausea and the shaking, and once he’d settled off back to sleep, he called Sheila to let her know things were done and he was okay.

Of course, as soon as Fao called her, Sheila headed in. She’d bargained with him before his surgery, eventually being allowed to visit after, instead of taking him in. She knew he needed his space, wanted his independence, but he was still her son. She was going to be there for him no matter what.

The staff recognised her from the countless previous admissions, letting her straight through. She met Ollie first, pulling the young man in for a hug (Whether he wanted one or not, really). It wasn’t a surprise that Fao had come round poorly, but it was a relief to know he’d had someone to be there with him. With Sheila there, Ollie disappeared to grab a coffee - god knows he needed it.

She sat by Fao’s bed, waiting for her son to wake up. He was fast asleep and she didn’t want to wake him. At least when he was asleep, he wouldn’t be in pain - she knew his options for pain relief were limited and the staff were often stingy.

He stirred after a while, pain pulling at his attention and dragging him from his sleep. He was warm and his limbs were heavy, but he shuffled in bed and blinked open his eyes.

“Mum?” He managed to get out, forcing his eyes to focus.

“Hey, sweetheart.” She smiled at him, taking his hand. “I’m here.”

“Mm. ‘m ‘kay.”

“I know. You did so well.”

“Ollie?” He asked, after a long pause.

“Sent him for a coffee.”

“Sleepy.”

“That’s alright. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

He nodded, his eyes already closed. It wasn’t hard to drift back to sleep, despite the pain. He slept for a while, not stirring as they checked on him. He was aware of them transferring him back to the ward, the sound of the lift and the changing of the light as the bed moved.

He didn’t properly stir again until a bit later, when Ollie was back with Sheila. Somehow, he felt worse than before. More woozy, and the taste of blood in his mouth was stronger. His breath hitched and he did his best to move in bed a bit, trying to sit up more.

“Easy, Fao. Take a moment, let me help.” Sheila was by his side immediately, trying to help.

Sitting made the dizziness worse, his blood pressure sinking, and he just felt wrong. He whimpered, trying to clear his throat. It was sore anyway, and dry from the oxygen, but suddenly it was as though he couldn’t breathe. He coughed, and then he couldn’t stop coughing, and then blood coated his tongue. It caught in his throat, too close to before. He tried to spit it out, but everything hurt, and he reached blindly for Sheila, panicked.

“I’ve got you, it’s okay, it’s okay.” She promised, stroking through his hair. “Just breathe, you’re okay.”

He couldn’t breathe. That was the problem. The world was hazy and he was dizzy and he couldn’t breathe. He was too hot then too cold and it was just like it had been after the crash. He coughed and then retched, managing to bring some blood up, but it wasn’t enough. He was still stuck, choking.

Ollie shared a look with Sheila, worried. This was bad.

“You’re okay, Fao.” She continued, trying to keep her son calm as Ollie called for help. She pulled Fao onto his side, an attempt to help him clear his throat.

He whimpered as she pulled him over, between the coughing and gagging. Everything hurt, and the room span with the change in position, making him feel even worse.

Ollie was in the corridor at this point, barking orders at people. It wasn’t often he was snappy, he rarely even shouted, but there was some sense of urgency needed.

There wasn’t much Sheila could actually do, trying to soothe her son. There was so much blood, far too much, and she knew it wasn’t good. She tried her best to get Fao’s attention, to try and ta;l him through it. He was obviously stuck in a flashback too, which only made things worse.

Soon enough, the bay was a hive of activity. The nurses called in the ward doctors who were desperately trying to get in touch with Fao’s surgeon. But he was in the middle of a list, and when his registrar finally arrived on the ward, he paled somewhat. They then had to find a consultant who was free, and an available theatre (and team) to find out what the fuck was going on, and fix it.

Things were quickly sorted, breathing got somewhat easier for Fao, just briefly, though the taste of blood was still overwhelming, between the retching. He was very quickly transferred back to theatres, and unlike before there was no taking their time. In a busy theatre he was out in seconds, no soothing words and gentle touches. There was just the ice cold burn of the drugs, and then nothingness.

That left Ollie with Sheila in an uncomfortably empty bedspace. She was covered in her son’s blood, and he awkwardly cleared his throat. “Uh, Sheila, maybe you should, uh, change?”

She couldn’t help the jump, lost in her thoughts. “I’ve not got anything to change into.”

“Fao’s got stuff.” He said gently. “He packed way too much.”

“Uh, yeah. Of course. I’ll change.” She stood, going through Fao’s bag and pulling out a hoodie and top. “I won’t be long.”

Ollie nodded. “Go on, I’ll wait here.”

“Not like we’ve got anywhere to be.” She said as she left, mainly to herself. She didn’t take long, dumping her clothes in a patient bag and heading back to Fao’s room to wait.

“True. He’ll be okay. Finn around?”

“He’s working. Said he’d be up when he could. I text him to tell him there were complications, that he had to go back to theater, but he hasn’t seen that yet.”

“Oh, Fao did tell me he was on placement. Poor sod.”

“I swear they try and one-up each other on everything.”

“So I’ve heard. He’ll be okay.”

“Fao didn’t have a clue where he was.”

“All those drugs make it hard at the best of times.” Ollie said. “We can just hope he doesn’t really remember it.”

“Fingers crossed.” She said quietly.

There was a knock at the door, Finn appearing around the corner. He frowned at the pair in front of him, the lack of his brother, and the fact his mum was in one of Fao’s hoodies.He gripped the doorframe to steady himself.

“What happened? Where is he?”

Ollie moved forwards. “Finn. It went well, but once he’d woken up a bit, there were… Complications. A bleed. He’s back in theatre now.”

He shook his head, looking at Sheila. “You said he was fine.”

“He was, he was out, he’d come round well enough for him, but…” She shrugged. “Like Ollie said, he had another bleed.”

“I was with him when he came round, he was alright. But something must have happened, a bleeding vessel or a bad suture or something. I can find out later, if they don’t say. He’ll be okay, they’ll sort it. These things happen.”

“These things don’t just happen.” Finn snapped, jerking away from Sheila’s arm.

“Finn, that’s enough. We’re all stressed, it doesn’t mean you get to be a dick. Sit down and wait.”

He glared at her before he turned to Ollie. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. You’re right, Finn, it doesn’t ‘just happen’. It shouldn’t have happened. But it’s a surgical complication, surgical complications happen. He’s with a good team, all we have to do now is wait.”

He flopped into the chair by his mum. “He had a good team before.”

“I know. It’s shit, isn’t it? Scared the shit out of me to see him like he was. He’ll be alright though. He’s been through worse.”