They had been in the hospital for close to 6 hours now. 4 hours they were in the ER, the doctors running around frantically, giving him adrenaline shots through his IV (the heroin he had shot up slowed his heart rate down impeccably). They had given him AT LEAST 4 bags of sodium chloride due to dehydration. They kept telling Mike that they were shocked he didn't have a seizure or stroke due to how dehydrated he had become.
They had to give him a shot of zofran to calm down his nausea, also bentyl due to Mike's explanation of his...accidents that he had in the past. Then a phlebotomist came in to take a few blood tests. The ER Doctor was concerned that he might have liver damage. He also mentioned having to get Layne a nasogastric tube due to how underweight he looked (they hadn't been able to get his weight yet since he's been unconscious the entire time). When the blood test results had come back, Mike was shocked & relieved to find out that his liver was fine.
That's when they transported him to another wing...an intensive drug detox wing. Mike watched Layne in deep and utter fear, studying that pale, angular face. His eyelids were literally purple. Lips blue, most likely from low blood pressure & malnutrition. Bloody puke was still caked on his stubbled chin. The nurses had to strip him out of his clothes so they could run an EKG & do body checks. They had found track marks on his stomach, legs, and feet.
In the blue gown he was in, it now was obvious: he had withered away to nothing but bone. His knees looked enormous in comparison to his thighs & calves. His feet had literally no flesh at all on them, they looked like gnarley claws from some creepy human hybrid. Ribs & hip bones jutted out so badly they looked as though they were to break from his gray-tinted skin at any moment.
He looked dead.
"I can't believe I didn't know you were this bad.... What the fuck is the matter with me..." Mike muttered as his head fell into the palms of his hands. "I'm supposed to be your best friend," his melancholy voice sobbed through his trembling fingers. "But I allowed you to get...like this...." He squeezed his eyes shut, tired of having to see Layne in this condition. "...I'm a terrible friend..."
"No you're not," a deep voice from behind him responded.
Mike jumped, spinning around in the hospital recliner to peer up at the detox wing doctor & two young female nurses. One of them held a long, thin tube connected to a bag, which was full of a strange mucus like substance, hung on a pole. Behind them was another phlebotomist.
"....fuck..you heard all that?" Mike blubbered, ashamed.
The doctor nodded, smiling softly. His green eyes behind glasses reflected pity. "Yes I did," he answered. He then held out his hand, grinning and winking at Mike when he shook it. "I'm Dr. Ryan, I'm going to be taking care of Layne Staley during his stay."
"Nice to meet you," Mike murmured tiredly. He shook his head, grinning. "I'm sorry. Forgot to introduce myself. I'm Mike--"
"Starr, right?" The doctor interrupted. He smirked when he watched the ex Alice in Chains bassist blush & nod his head. "I've seen you in many interviews & music videos."
Mike grunted. "Take it you're a fan then... Please don't get creepy on me," he blurted. Quickly, he forced a laugh to save himself from appearing a complete and utter douche bag.
Finally, Mike was in for some luck. The doctor laughed. "I've been an Alice in Chains fan ever since I heard Man in the Box. Which one of you guys wrote that song, anyways?"
Mike sighed, sadly nodding to the unconscious Layne Staley. It was silent for a while until the phlebotomist piped up, telling everyone that he needed another adrenaline shot. "I believe this will do the trick for him," she said as she prodded the needle into his IV & slowly injected the substance. To everyone's amazement, Layne's eyes slowly / drunkenly opened.
"What the.." Layne gurgled, his voice hoarse. His eyes widened suddenly & anxiously peered around the hospital room. The heart monitor went off, alarm & tension thickening the cold sterile air.
"Awwww crap, now his blood pressure is too high.." The phlebotomist moaned. The doctor gestured her to be quiet & told her that he was probably having high blood pressure due to confusion.
"Where in the fuck am I?" Layne finally squeaked, glaring over at Dr. Ryan. Those blue eyes slid down to his arm, taking note of the IV stunt prodded through one of his thick veins. He licked his lips and sighed with frustration. "Mike fucking sent me to the hospital, didn't he? Fucking prick..."
"Yeah, I fucking did, Layne," Mike growled at him pointedly. He watched as Layne swiveled his head to him, his skull-like face crinkling in disgust. Before Layne could blurt out obscenities, Mike stood up & crossed his arms over his chest. "You were going to fucking die. I'm your best friend. I can't just let you die like that. Not when you have family that cares about you."
Layne bursted out in hysterical laughter. "Yeah?! Family? Interesting." He looked around the room, grinning with pessimistic spite. "Pretty funny, either my family isn't here, or they've inherited the mystical powers of fucking invisibility." He suddenly coughed, blood splattering all over his blue gown. He groaned mournfully as those light eyes watered from pain. "Eck.......God...." he gurgled, sobbing now. "This hurts...so bad... why...why couldn't you just leave me..?" Layne whimpered, looking back at Mike.
"We can talk about this later," he said. He looked over at Dr. Ryan and his nurses. "But first, you need to get treated...." Mike nodded at Dr. Ryan, stepping aside so he could do his job.
The doctor grabbed Layne's hand & gave him a promising smile. "I'm Dr. Howard Ryan. I'm going to be taking care of you during your stay here."
Layne scowled at him. "And where exactly is 'here'...?"
"You're on the rehabilitation floor, in the extensive drug detox wing," the doctor responded professionally. He didn't seem to be affected at all by Layne's poor attitude. Mike was pretty sure the doctor was used to dealing with uncooperative addicts.
"Fucking hell," Layne moaned. He shot Mike another look, fire in his tired sunken eyes. "Fourteenth trip to the rehab again for me. You know how ecstatic the media is going to be when this information leaks out??!"
Mike rolled his eyes so hard it almost looked like his head was about to implode. "How will this get leaked into the media?! You know very well that I hate reporters just as much as you do," he stopped and glared at the nurses & Dr. Ryan. "And I'm pretty sure the hospital's staff will respect your right to keep this private as well."
"Jesus fucking Christ, sometimes you can be REALLY stupid!" Layne shrieked. "The ambulance was sent right to my condo, am I right?! They have fucking cameras there. Witnesses. And if my mother or step father finds out--YEP. It'll be in the fucking media by tomorrow, count my word on that!"
Layne's heart monitor went off again, alarming the nurses. One of them jolted out of the hospital room. Only a few moments later, another phlebotomist came in. She squeezed behind Dr. Ryan, a huge syringe clenched in her hand.
"What the fuck is that," Layne growled.
This phlebotomist didn't even attempt to act like she had sympathy. She was old, had to be in her late 60's, and had pissed off scribbled all over her bull-dog face. "I'm giving you a dose of methadone for withdrawal. Also for your heart arrhythmia. If there's ever an emergency--and I mean an ACTUAL emergency--press the 'call nurse' button on the side of your bed, k?" she barked. She didn't even wait for a response & jabbed the syringe into his IV. She quickly injected the methadone & stormed out.
Layne's eyes fell slanted again. A sloppy grin grew on his face as his pupils began to shrink & his heart began to slow again.
"Well, shit, at least he's calm again," Mike murmured to himself, but one of the nurses heard him, a cute little giggle squealing from her. He turned and glanced at her. She had a short blonde bob, hair parted to the side to frame her pretty face. Bright green eyes. A slim but very curvy figure. Mike couldn't help but to grin and wink at her, his heart skipping a beat when she smiled and winked back.
Dang, she's cute, he thought to himself.
"That dog-faced lady sure was something else, ay? What the fuck man..." Layne slurred, giggling softly.
Mike shook his head. "You're a piece of work."
Dr. Ryan's eyes were wide, going back to business. "ANYWAYS." He turned to his nurses when he heard them giggle again. He couldn't help but to smile. "Mr. Staley, it seems as though your body is going through some trauma...our labs came back and it stated that you are very vitamin deficient. Which indicates you're suffering from severe malnutrition... Do you know how long it's been since you've been able to eat? How has your eating been in, let's say, the past two months?"
Layne gulped, resting his hand on his belly. He grimaced when he felt his bones jutting through. He knew he looked hideous. "Well...thanks to stimulants such as meth and crack / cocaine, I've been having issues eating... Plus the heroin & pain medications I've been getting, it's made it hard to eat. Just haven't felt hungry. I would force myself to, but these past....ummm..." he stopped for a moment, lightly closing his eyes. His eyebrows furrowed as his thoughts stirred to try to remember. "Shit, think it's been a month I've been sick due to drugs... My tolerance to opiates got way too high and I suffered withdrawals if I couldn't get enough in me. Everytime I'd try to make myself eat, I would throw up or shit myself, so I kind of just...stopped eating... Around about 2 weeks ago." He licked his lips, opening his eyes & glancing back at Mike. His face burnt with embarrassment when he took in the pity sketched across his face.
"Well, unfortunately, you're stomach won't be able to handle normal foods for a while considering you are actually sick due to all of this," the doctor began, walking back to the end of his bed. He pressed a button near the "000.00 lbs" indicator on the edge of his bed. "I'm going to have to take your weight, okay?"
Layne closed his eyes again & nodded slowly. "Okay."
Mike leaned in to watch the inbuilt scale of his bed bounce around on numbers. When it finally stopped, he was petrified. "How the heck are you still alive?!" He shrieked.
Layne's eyes shot wide open, staring right at the doctor. "What? What's wrong? How much do I weigh?"
Dr. Ryan hesitated, turning to the pretty blonde nurse. She sighed & stepped forward, dragging that nasogastric tube pole with her. She leaned over and smiled at him. Mike narrowed his eyes with irritation when he noticed Layne grinning slyly back. "How tall are you, honey?"
"I'm 6 feet tall..." Layne gulped. Worry sunk deep in his chest when he turned back to see the doctor shaking his head and cleaning his glasses. "So... Tell me? How much do I weigh?"
The doctor sighed. "You're horribly underweight, Layne...according to the FDA's BMI chart, you have a BMI of 12.2. Basically a BMI of an anorexic. A severe anorexic."
Layne's eyes widened. "How much do I fucking weigh?!?!"
The blonde nurse grabbed his hand, leaning closer to him. "Calm down, Hun, everything's gonna be alright. We're gonna help you out, okay?"
Even the hot nurse couldn't break his concern. "How much do I fucking weigh?!"
Mike groaned. He shook his long dark hair away from his face to get a better look at his sick friend. "Ninety pounds," he barked.
Layne immediately shot up, trying to lean over to the end of the bed to see it for himself. The other red headed nurse gently pushed him back against the mattress. "You need to relax, Layne... We're going to take good care of you."
Layne looked back at Mike. His chest rose & trembled, his breath gone shallow. "Could you fucking say that again? I don't think I understood you!"
"You weigh ninety pounds dude. You've lost fifty pounds," Mike answered, falling back down into the recliner and glaring up at the clock. He sighed at the fact that it had already struck 10 o' clock at night. Those brown eyes slid down to his shoes. "See why I wanted you to come here?"
"So what's gonna happen? How in the heck am I going to gain weight if I can't even keep food down?!" Layne exclaimed. He studied his body, eyes tearing up. Disgust shrouded his core when he took in the bones that pleaded through tight sheet white skin.
The blonde nurse rolled the nasogastric tube pole closer to his bed. The sound of the wheels rolling & clinking across the tile snapped him out of his pessimistic, self deprecating thoughts. "Unfortunately in order for you to start gaining weight, we have to give you supplements with a nasogastric tube treatment," she informed, her eyes meeting his own. "For at least 2 weeks, if not longer."
"...what the heck is that?" Layne blubbered, pointing a shaky finger at the sack of slosh slung on the steel pole.
Dr. Ryan sighed, empathy creasing the wrinkles of his middle aged face. "What we're going to have to do is insert a feeding tube through your nose until it reaches your stomach--"
"INSERT A TUBE THROUGH MY NOSE?!" Layne shrieked.
Both the blonde & the red head grabbed his hand supportively. "It isn't going to be painful, we promise. What we do is first give you a nasal spray, which numbs your nasal cavity. Then we put this goopy yucky stuff--"
"Ha, yeah, it kind of feels like snot," the red head interrupted awkwardly, making Mike & Layne grin.
The blonde wrinkled her brow with mild irritation. "Uh... Yeah, we put that..." she glanced over at her co-worker, giving her a dirty look (which made her laugh), "snot stuff in your nose & slowly insert the tube. Of course we'll have to take you back to this special room with Dr. Ryan so we can X-Ray the procedure. We have to make sure the tube reaches the stomach, without causing possible damage. It isn't a painful procedure at all, it's just uncomfortable at first."
"...how will I sleep with a tube sticking out of my nose?" Layne asked, his voice gone timid.
"We tape the tube on you so it stays put. You just have to make sure to keep this pole," she pointed at the NG tube pole next to the blonde, "really close by you. You'll be okay."
Dr. Ryan nodded at Mike to stand up, maneuvering to the other side of Layne's hospital bed. "We have to do this procedure now," he stated, nodding at the blonde nurse. She left the room, shortly coming back with a portable hospital bed. "Usually we don't do these so late, but considering how underweight and vitamin deficient you are, this is definitely an emergency," he stated, helping the nurses gently place him onto the other bed.
Layne looked over at Mike longingly, fear in his eyes. "You'll be okay, Layne," Mike soothed. "You're in good hands. I'll be waiting here for you for when you return, alright, bud?"
"...okay..." Layne whimpered.
"Another doctor will be helping you through this procedure. He's a good doctor, Dr. Scott is his name. okay, Layne?" The doctor asked.
Layne just nodded, his eyes wide with horror.
Dr. Ryan patted him lightly on his bony shoulder. "You'll be fine Layne," he said. He raised a brow at him as the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a crooked smirk. "Oh, and by the way....your band rocks."
"Oh God," Layne groaned, not even laughing to mask his annoyance with fame. Mike & the nurses laughed at his complaint.
The 3 of them disappeared down the hallway...
*******
Mike stared at the clock, sighing with annoyance. "Freaking 10:30 pm," he muttered. His fingers itched with need, slowly fumbling around in his old school military jacket (that he found at a pawn shop. Oh yeah, 1990's rockstars sure did make big bucks......). He yanked out an orange prescription bottle, it's label torn off. He had bought an entire script of diazepam off of one of Staley's old drug dealers not too long ago. 10 mg tablets. He tongued 4 of them, anticipating the high that would soon follow. Once it had hit 11:00, he was stumbling aimlessly around the detox wing, checking out the young female nurses. He couldn't help but to walk over to the dark haired blue eyed one sitting at the computer files unit.
"Hey," he muttered, trying to sound slick.
She continued to type and glare intensely at the computer screen, so Mike repeateded himself louder this time. She jumped & looked at him wide-eyed. He laughed & flushed with heat when she didn't even muster up a smile. Those deep brown eyes slid down to his black combat boots, drumming his fingers nervously on the counter.
"My buddy Layne Staley just got here, he's in the middle of a procedure and I'm more bored than a pile of rocks..." He glanced up to see if she would grin. Instead she gave him the stink eye. He sighed, scratching his scalp and looking awkwardly down the hallway. "You got any magazines or something?"
"No..." She responded, looking at him like he had just morphed into Donald trump dressed up as Madonna.
He rolled his eyes when he noticed the look she was giving him. What a stuck up bitch.... "Oh...okay......" he grumbled awkwardly, spinning around.
"There's a TV in his room you know," the dark haired woman called out to him as he began to walk back to the room.
He turned back to her, dropping his head into his hand. "Wow... Goddamn I feel like a dumb ass..." He was shocked when he heard the miss priss actually laugh.
She stood up out of her desk chair, walking out of the gated unit and up next to him. A soft smile played on her delicate face as she nudged his side with her elbow. "Take me to his room, I'll show you how to work it," she muttered.
He smiled and led her the way. When they got to the room, he sat down and splayed out on his recliner, trying to look sexy.... Only to have the woman give him that same weird look.
He was so high at this point, he didn't care anymore. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked between light chuckles.
She flicked her shiny black hair, smirking. "...you look familiar..."
Mike ran his hand through his hair. "Ever heard of Alice in Chains...?"
She threw her head back and laughed. "This is SEATTLE, you know that, right?!"
He smirked, fumbling with his fingers. "I'm not that stupid, geesh," he laughed softly. His brown eyes met her blue ones. "I was the former bassist in that band."
"...wait a minute..." she narrowed her eyes at him. "You're...you're Mike Starr?!" Her entire tune changed, which pleasantly amused him. "Oh my gosh I just met Mike Starr and I look like total shit..." she muttered, covering her face.
He gently grabbed her wrist and moved her hand away from her face. He moved in closer to her so he could check out her beautiful, proportionate features. "You don't look like shit at all. In fact, you're one of the hottest nurses I've seen in this hospital... Black hair, blue eyes, peanut-butter skin--"
"Peanut butter skin!" She shrieked, giggling.
He grinned, licking his lips and moving in closer. "I love peanut butter....don't you?"
She nodded, her pupils dialated. Mike's smile got sloppy, knowing very well that she was already getting horny. Should I take advantage...?
Just right when Mike was going to reach in for a kiss, the redhead & blonde nurse came strolling in Layne Staley. Mike tisked his tongue irritably. He's even a cock blocker when he's sick and close to fucking death damnit.
The dark haired girl motioned away from Mike, watching as the nurses easily manuevered the skeletal rockstar back into his bed. "See? That wasn't that bad," the pretty blonde nurse reassured him.
"My throat hurts like a bitch getting choked," he croaked. Both of the girls laughed like a couple of dumbfounded groupies.
"Is that who I think it is...?" The black haired girl whispered to Mike.
He huffed, trying his best to contain his anger. "If I told you yes, would you give me your number?" Mike grumbled back. His heart raced when he saw her smile excitably wide.
She leaned close to him. "I've always had a thing for you, Mike... I just asked about Layne because a lot of my friends would love to have his autograph."
"Sooo...does that mean we have a date?" Mike whispered back to her. He smiled wide as he watched her pull out her notepad from her chest pocket & a pen. She scribbled quickly and handed the paper to him.
"Have to get back to work...call me when you can," she whispered, flicking her long black hair and waltzing out the door.
Mike smirked, pushing the paper deep into his jacket pocket. He watched the redhead & blonde as they walked out & shut the door behind them.
"Still trying to hook up with groupies, ay, mister I can't get zeeee pussy?" Layne groaned.
Mike laughed. "You sound like a heavy smoking Kermit with that tube in, fag."
Layne rolled his eyes. "That's homophobic."
"That's what Jim Henson would say," Mike spat back. They both laughed. He could still see sadness in Layne's eyes though, making his tune change. "Sorry to ask this...but...why did you get so bad? And why didn't you answer any of my calls? Fuck, not to mention Sean's calls...he's been worried sick about you, dude. Told me he hasn't seen you in over 2 years."
Layne grumbled, fidgeting with the tube taped to his face. "...it's a long story I would rather not get into."
"Dude, we're best friends, I call bullshit. Was it Demri?" He watched Layne turn on the TV with his hospital bed remote. Mike sighed. "Come on, you should be able to tell me everything...... I've opened up to you."