CWs: a mention of those grief pamphlets and america's healthcare system
Whiplash would be one way to describe it. Shock was another.
Dream's arm had gone numb long ago from keeping himself pressed against George, despite the bar of the hospital bed. It wasn't like he cared— it was worth it to rest his hand on George's arm as they sat in silence.
George hadn't said much since the doctor left— he stared at the wall, a spaced-out look in his eyes, not responding. A couple of nurses had come in periodically to take a blood sample and encourage him to drink gatorade, but the two were otherwise left in silence.
Dream wasn't up to talk much either; he was still trying to process what had happened. Process wasn't the right word— he wasn't even able to begin to process what had happened. He couldn't even figure out the reason George had let him stay, let alone what it meant or what was even wrong with him. More so, he couldn't even begin to fathom what George's childhood had been like. He hadn't missed the skeptical looks the doctor gave when George discussed getting sick all the time, and he didn't believe anyone who ignored the clear pain George was in truly cared about his wellbeing.
He knew George had downplayed what he went through, it was in his nature to do so. He didn't mentioned the screams that haunted the back of Dream's mind, and Dream was sure he didn't mention the countless instances of the exact same thing happening. Alex had indicated understanding of the screams, and Dream couldn't help but fear George had been sick well before he left the UK.
Dream sighed. He had no idea what to do.
"George and Clay?" The voice of doctor Lewis called. Dream tore his eyes away from the nothingness of the wall, looking back to the familiar, masked face of the doctor. "Is it okay if I talk to each of you individually?"
Dream nodded, placing the stuffed cat gently on George's lap. He'd been running a hand along it back and forth for what must have been an hour. It was comforting, and he needed something to do with his hands, even if that cat was George's.
"Thank you, Clay, come into the hallway with me?"
He nodded again, moving his arm and standing up, leaving a lingering hand on George's arm before following the doctor out of the room.
He watched as doctor Lewis closed the door, leading him into a larger, carpeted room at the end of the white hallway and closing the door. Dream's heart dropped to the floor as he noticed the tissue boxes, alongside what appeared to be grief pamphlet on a table.
He thought George was okay. He didn't think it was fatal.
A lump clawed his way to his throat, restricting his breathing.
He couldn't loose George.
"Don't mind any of the pamphlets, this is just the room we bring families to. The purpose of this room is confidentiality and a place to be out of the way. Please, sit down," Doctor Lewis offered, as if he could read Dream's thoughts.
He nodded, swallowing hard as the pit in his stomach began to close up. Pressing his hand to the bridge of his nose, Dream sat down, and looked to the doctor.
"So, how are you handling this? It's obviously a lot, and it's okay to be overwhelmed in these situations, even if you're not the one that's sick."
With those words, Dream felt like crying again.
He bit his lip to stop it from shaking under his mask and rubbed his hand across his eyes. He wasn't okay, he wasn't handling it, he was beyond overwhelmed. He wanted Nick, Sapnap, Pandas— he wanted his lifelong friend be with him. He wanted to sob in his arms as he assured him things would be okay. He wanted Bad. He wanted him to tell him things would be okay, he wanted him to tell him there was some form of plan that ended in George living happily, even if he didn't believe it. He wanted Bad to instruct him to breath normally, to measure his breathing. He wanted a hug from the person he'd known for so long, that he'd looked up to for so long. He wanted George to tell him he was ridiculous for worrying so much, that of course things would be okay. He wanted George to hug him, to hold him in his soft, warm arms, just like the first night they'd met.
More than anything, he just wanted George to be okay. He didn't want the stress that came with chronic illness, he didn't want the constant hospital visits— he just wanted to spend time with George, he wanted to stay locked inside his house together, having only each other and patches to keep company. He wanted to have a normal meet up, a normal living situation. He wanted George, not the strange, sick version of George that haunted every waking thought.
He felt a square object fall gently into his lap.
Removing his hand from his eyes and squinting through the blurry, watery mess the world had become, he vaguely recognized the object as a tissue box. He gingerly took one to be polite, pressing it along his eyes as he tried to force air in his lungs. It didn't help much, as he felt his breathing get more constricted, liquid dripping down his cheeks and drying on his hands as he attempted to wash it away.
"Its going to be okay, you're going to get through this," Dr. Lewis tried to comfort.
Dream wanted the cat. If he couldn't have one of his friends, he wanted at least something to hold onto, something to ground him.
He wanted George. He just wanted George to be okay.
~
Dream didn't know how long it took him to compose himself.
He reached over and placed the tissue box back on the table, before standing up to place the used tissues in a small trash can by the door. Walking back, he noticed the doctor was thankfully looking at his notes, rather than him. Logically, he knew the doctor must see it all the time, but he couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed. He was emotional, he couldn't help it even if he did have a nagging feeling in the back of his head that he was wasting time.
"Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he sat down.
"Totally okay."
"I..." he started, knowing he had to talk. "I don't know, it's hard."
"It is, it's really hard dealing with someone close to you being sick."
The words were encouraging, validating.
He asked the only thing he could think of, the only way to move past everything. "What do I do?"
"Well, the best thing you can do for George is be there for him, and you're already doing that. I can tell you two really love each other, and that's the best thing you can give George going forwards."
Dream smiled.
"That being said, it's okay if you ever need a break from him. When you two decided to get together, you signed up to be equal partners in a relationship. You didn't sign up to be a nurse, and you have no obligation to do so. So if he's sick, and you're tired, or you need to get out of the house— do it. He's an adult, he knows what he needs. Leave him alone sometimes, and take care of yourself. If you try to dawn over him constantly, you're only going to burn yourself out and build resentment between the two of you, alright? Just because you don't have all these symptoms doesn't mean your health and well being doesn't matter."
Dream didn't have the heart to tell the doctor that he and George weren't actually dating. The words sounded wrong, sad, when he thought of them— he much preferred the conclusion that there was something more than friendship between them. As he said on streams: dnf. It was funny, and it was better than saying they were friends. Besides, he was fairly certain he'd be kicked out if he told the hospital they weren't actually dating anyways.
"Thank you," he replied quietly, forcing the words from his mouth. "I love him more than anything," he added without thinking.
Doctor Lewis smiled. "You're lucky to have each other."
How he wanted another hug from George.
"We do unfortunately, have to talk about insurance."
Right. He nodded. Medical bills weren't a problem— he would pay them if need be.
"All he's said is that he doesn't have it, and George doesn't seem to fully understand insurance. Given his accent I'm assuming he's moved recently, can you tell me a little bit about that and his insurance situation?"
Hell, he didn't understand insurance but he could at least try. All he knew was that he was still on his Mom's plan. "George um, George visited the US earlier this month, I drove up to North Carolina to meet him with some friends. He had plans to move in officially in 2021, but with the new mutation in the UK he decided it would be safer not to travel. So I drove him down to my house."
"Wait, how long have you two known each other?"
"Five years, we were online friends and only recently had the resources to travel to see each other." He forgot online friends weren't quite commonplace yet.
"Well I'm glad you to finally met, that's very sweet."
"Thanks."
"I'm assuming he hadn't set up anything with insurance then?"
He shook his head.
"And do you think he's going to return back to... England I'm assuming anytime soon?"
After little consideration, Dream shook his head. Truly, he didn't think George would've actually gone back to the UK, pandemic or not.
"Alright, so he's going to need to get healthcare. Luckily with COVID, the deadline to file for medicare or add another person to a plan has been extended through to the beginning of March, so you do have time to file for health insurance changes if he does stay."
"Thank you," he nodded.
"Do you know anyone who knows about healthcare?"
"I think my mom does," he guessed. He truly had no idea whether she did or not, but he went to his mom for everything and he wasn't going to change that habit anytime soon.
"Perfect, we got that out of the way." Dream could tell the man was annoyed by insurance companies; he figured doctors weren't allowed to say much politically under contract, but the sentiment carried through. "What's your support system like?"
"I'm really close to my mom, and my younger sister. They're over most days."
"Good, and friends?"
Friends. He certainly didn't have any friends from school in Florida— he'd always relied on the internet to make friends. "Online."
"Are they in the US?"
"One of my friends is coming to live with me, in January," he added.
"Alright, that's good. And what about George?"
"He's his friend too."
"Does he... does he really have anyone back in the UK?"
Dream paused to think. He remembered George mentioning offhand that he and his friends from his university had fallen out of touch during the pandemic, and while he maintained he was close to his parents, Dream didn't believe that lie any more. "Maybe his sister?" he suggested.
"Do you know if they're close at all?"
He shook is head. "George always said he was close to his family, but I doubt that's true."
The doctor smiled sadly. "I'm afraid you're right. I'll talk to him about that."
He gave a brief nod.
"Alright, I think you're good to go, but I will suggest that your mom come over often and help you these next couple of months. George should start getting better when we can manage his conditions, but he's most likely not going to be able to do his share of the household tasks. It's going to be tough, but I believe in you two."
"Thank you," he said, giving a short nod. "My mom is over most days, she helps me a lot."
"That's great, if you could, we're going to give you a list of things you'll need. Have her pick those up for you, and then you can just focus on getting George home. He should be discharged by the evening. It was good talking to you."
He nodded, standing up to shake the doctor's hand with a smile. He said his thanks as the doctor walked out of the room, telling him he was free to stay inside or wander the halls, but not to come back to George's for at least 30 minutes.
Pacing around the small room, Dream pulled his phone from his pocket and called the only person he could think to: his mom.
~
"Alright, so five small meals a day, sound good? I've complied a list of foods that you shouldn't eat under any circumstances, and a separate list of foods you can," Doctor Lewis explained, holding out a piece of paper. "As you go further down this list, it's roughly going to be harder for you to keep down. It's really going to depend of how you're feeling George, but I want you to stay right in the top up here for now." He made a small line towards the top of his paper, below a word Dream couldn't quite make out from his seat on George's bed.
"When you can keep everything down easily, you can start introducing new foods, one at a time. That being said, this list is general— you might find something in this list that pretty high up, but that you just can't eat. And that's okay, that's why we go through one at a time, and feel free to cross off any foods you can't eat on here. If you try something and can't handle it, wait a couple days, and then try it again, just to make sure. It's easy to overdo this, and I want you to make sure you're marking what you can and can't eat. If things start to flare up again, go back to the top of the list, and work your way back down. It will be easier to know what to do after the first time, make sense?"
Dream nodded, giving George's hand in his lap a squeeze. He'd changed back into his street clothes, the sleeves of Dream's old hoodie falling slightly over his hands.
"Secondly, you're going to need a lot of salt. And I mean a lot— take what you think is an excess of salt over in the UK, and multiply it tenfold. With POTS, salt helps avoid all those blackouts. You'll want to aim for six to eight grams of salt per day, so take salt with anything you can. You've got clear soup and crackers at the top of the list, which you said you thought you could eat, right? Great, so make sure you add some salt to that, or just eat it straight if you can handle that; I talked with a patient in med school who could do that, no idea how." The doctor gave a small smile at that. "Anyways, lots of salt, sound good? Clay, you make sure he gets plenty."
He nodded, biting his fingernail for something to do with his free hand.
"Good. I'm going to give you these papers to hold onto at the end of our visit, but for now let's go over medication.
"Since I can't properly test you for these conditions, I can't get you anything specifically for anything, but I can give you an anti-nausea medication. It's take as needed, but you may need to after every meal. I've given you as many pills as I can for a prescription, and you can take up to five a day. Past this, I can't do much— I want you to avoid alcohol and coffee like the plague, and try to avoid taking any ibuprofen or aleve, and just stick to Tylenol. The former can possibly set off you MCAS, I'm not fully sure but it's best to avoid it anyways. At the pharmacy here, you can pick up some extra strength Tylenol when you get your prescription, I suggest getting two bottles.
"Finally, I'm going to have you pick up one medication from each of these categories." Doctor Lewis pointed to another section of the paper. "These are H1 and H2 antihistamines, and they should calm down you MCAS symptoms. Take them twice a day— they're over the counter meds, and you can buy the generic version at a grocery store. It'll take a little while to work, and if they stop working, just switch to a different type.
"That's about all I can do without a diagnosis, but all these combined should lead to a significant improvement of your symptoms. Any questions?"
Dream looked to George, who shook his head. The doctor handed George the stack of paper.
"Well great, it's been lovely meeting you too, and I hope things start getting better for you. You'll have a referral to that clinic on you chart George."
"Thank you."
"Really, thank you so much."
Dream gave George's hand a squeeze as they watched the doctor they'd grown to love exit the door, never to be seen again.
"Oh George and Clay?" Doctor Lewis called, his hand on the door to leave. "You two are a cute couple, I'm glad our community is able to be visible nowadays."
With that, the doctor left the room.
Dream felt his cheeks get warm and he looked down, acutely aware of the fact he was holding George's hand in his own. He certainly wasn't going to move his hand, but he was unused to the declaration in person regardless.
"We can uh, we can leave when I nurse tells us to, soon I think," George stated awkwardly.
~
George fell asleep in Dream's bed almost immediately upon getting home, leaving Dream wandering aimless around his house, Patches following closely on his heels.
He'd sent his mom pictures of the list of food George could eat and the over the counter medications, as well as a couple other things to pick up. He liked to eat mostly healthy, and he figured with a couple adjustments, he and George could eat close enough to the same things when he got better. His mom was picking everything up at the store, and promised she would be to his house by seven.
It was six fifty eight.
His house still felt cold and empty, the lingering terror from the hall creeping into the corners of his vision, ambushing him when he least expected it. Patches, his consistently loyal companion, helped somewhat, but even she couldn't change the past. Even she couldn't erase the suffering that had taken place.
The sound of his doorbell jolted him from his thoughts, and he quickly walked to the door, Patches in tow.
"Mom!" He called opening the door.
"Hi Clay, how're you holding up?" she replied, giving him a quick hug and walking to the kitchen to put things away.
"I'm doing better than I was," he said simply.
"Good, it's certainly been an interesting Christmas this year, hasn't it?"
He nodded.
They talked as he helped his mom put groceries away. He asked her to clean the sheets of the guest bedroom, a request which she accepted without teasing, much to the thanks of Dream. He still felt embarrassed about the sense of dread he felt everytime he walked into a room of his own house.
His mom brought George's suitcase out, and he left it gently at the base of his bed, waking George up only to give him the medication his mom had bought.
That night, after his mom had left, promising to return soon, he crawled into bed with George, holding his blanket and the stuffed cat close.
He fell asleep quickly, George a comforting presence against all that had happened throughout the day.
notes: thank you so so much for all your support!! i'm really bad at responding to comments but i will i promise and know everyone who had commented your words mean so much to me! i'm so glad my long ass minecraft fic about my chronic illnesses can bring you guys entertainment that makes me really happy <3
also, i don't want this to be a fic that gets updated once a week, but it is becoming like that, at least while school is really busy for me :/. i'm going to try to get chapters out every 4-7 days from now on (sorry to anyone still reading this from when i updated every other day, blame all the essays i get assigned /lh)
also, the app is shit and keeping formatting so I didn't edit it here, if you want to read the version I actually edited, it's on ao3, same name and my user there is mountain_sunsets (it doesn't keep italics in this app it's very annoying)