"Facile omnes quom valemus recta consilia aegrotis damus." (When in health, we all have good advice for the sick)

Terence, "Andria," 309. Used without permission.
 

LANGLY:

October 20, 2001
 

Aargh. Back down in the crypto mines.

I don't mind the crypto part, it's going to my office I hate. I was getting real used to this working in bed stuff. I mean, yeah, Zupan-prick would hassle me on the phone, but it's still better than having the fuckrag across the hall.

I really don't feel all that good, either. I mean, I'm better. Just that I could use another week in bed...

With my wife would be nice. God, it was so great after Byers's wedding. We went home and played wedding night all over. Awesome. I mean, yeah, I was drunk as a skunk, but not too drunk to enjoy a good time with Ally.

Paid for the drunk part yesterday. I would've slept all day, but my kids had other ideas. They usually do. I mean, not like I had to do anything major, but Patrick wants like to play Legos and Star Wars and Randa wants to talk and try out a new hair style, using me as guinea pig. When she grows up, she won't risk her own money, either.

Most times, I sort of like Randa doing my hair, she's good, but yesterday like, my brain kept slamming the sides of my skull, and she was doing this horrible thing where she'd pull my hair up-hard. This is not nice when you're in hangover hell. I keep wondering if she did it deliberately. Ally finally made her stop, thank God. I think she got tired of hearing me scream.

Ally gets up with me, this is nice. She's got coffee going, good thing. I'm lots more tired than I figured I was gonna be. Then we get to jump in the shower together, which is great. I don't feel like giving this part up when the cast comes off.

I'm not asking Zupan-prick to sign my cast, either.

What really bums me out, though, is I didn't quite finish my little project. It was a hell of a lot easier doing it here in bed than it's gonna be trying to deal with the office shit.

I don't need anyone to tell me why I don't like Mondays.
 

MICHAEL:

Last night was the worst. I don't think I'd have slept a bit if Kelly wasn't with me. Not that I slept all that much, anyway, but at least she was there, she'd rub my back and stuff, and we'd talk.

And Martha stayed, which was good. I don't know why, when my dad's not doing good, I just feel better if she's around. Maybe because she's pretty good at handling him.

We're not allowed to see him. Guess he's got orders for no guests. I mean, I'm his kid, you wouldn't think I'd count as a guest, but I guess they think so.

I mean, let's face it, when my dad's sick, he's a major bastard. I go and see him, I end up getting my ass kicked, no matter what.

But it's still better than not being able to see him at all. I mean, this totally sucks. And he's gonna be such a bear when he gets home. He's gonna be so mad at us all, even if it wasn't our idea, he's still gonna be pissed.

First thing I got to do is call the hospital and see how my dad's hanging. See how many people on staff he's pissed off so far, among other things.

Martha's already up when I come out. I'm only wearing sweatpants, but she doesn't say anything. Guess she's used to skin.

She holds up her hand. "He's resting comfortably, he's down one degree in temperature, his vitals are good, and he's being total hell on wheels."

I breathe a big sigh. Sounds like Dad's making tracks and doing okay.

Maybe it's just as well we can't go see him.

I got to get to school, anyway. I know it sounds cold, but like when he's laid up like this, school's the best place to escape. That, and Kelly's arms. She just cuddled me all night, which I needed. I think she wanted to do more, but I just couldn't deal with it.

Weird. Me, Michael Andrew Frohike, too tired and strung out for sex. That's bad.

And I'm not even 26 yet.

I let Kelly take the shower first, I suppose we could save water and take one together, but then we'd probably be late for school, even if I don't get it up. Just being with her in water, it's so great...

I remember the bathtub in Atlantic Beach. Big old clawfoot thing. Room for both of us. It was great.

Martha and me sit and have coffee. I don't talk much in the morning, I'm kind of sleepy, especially today.

"He's going to be fine, dear."

"Yeah, I know."

Still, it's scary as hell. I mean, it's like, every time he sneezes from now on, I think I'm the one that's gonna have the heart attack.

Course, if you ever heard my dad sneeze, you might have one yourself. Nothing dainty there. And unfortunately, I take after him like that. That I'll admit to.

Kelly swears I snore. I do not. My dad snores. I don't. No way do I snore like him.

"So when's he coming home?"

"Once he's free of fever, 24 hours later he can come home if he's stable."

"So maybe tomorrow?"

"Maybe." I hope so. I think she does too. I'm sure the VA staff does. Hell, they'd probably pay somebody to cart him away by then, if they don't kill him first.

"So when're you guys going to Atlantic Beach?"

"Well, I'm not sure. It depends on how he's feeling, and if the property I want is available. When did you say his birthday is?"

"26th. Sunday."

"A few days of rest at home...I think leaving Saturday would work. He'll be stronger by then."

"Probably sleep the whole way if you're driving." And he will. He snored the entire fucking way home last time. God, I wished I'd brought my portable CD and headset for that one.

On the other hand, if he's not driving, then you want him asleep. He's the world's worst back seat driver. He's such a control freak. He's always talking about how anal the prof is, but when you think about it, my dad's the real nut case here. I mean, he tries to control all of us, all the time. And then he gets bent out of shape when he can't.

Maybe this little hospital gig might give him some reality therapy.

Nah.
 

GIZZIE:

I'm getting ready to start the day shift at Georgetown. Another day of doing what's passing for medicine these days, which mostly consists of doing what the morons at insurance companies tell us to do. Sometimes I think everyone in here should have a meter attached to them, and when their credit runs out, sorry, treatment's over.

In a way, they already do, but I usually don't know it till after the fact. I follow the orders the physicians write-and I trained most of these guys, so I know they're good. I don't have to argue with them too often, and when I do, they usually respect me. It pays to be the Giz sometimes.

Only it's paying a lot less these days. Capitation (the dirtiest word in the English language, if you ask me) tops out around 2 cents these days on patients under 65. It's better if they're over 65, but it's not like there's unlimited resources. People say they don't want us playing god, deciding who lives and dies because of finances.

Hate to tell you, people, but it's already happening. Every day. And I've lied on more than a few charts to make it seem copascetic. Hell, we all do. We have to. I'm trying to keep people from dying and maybe even make them well. Spending all my time having my ass in court being sued will not let me do that.

But it's getting harder. I don't like what I'm doing. I like medicine, if I'd had the money and didn't fuck around so much when I was younger, I'd have gone to medical school. But hey, just going to college for nursing, almost more than my working-class parents could handle. They couldn't understand how I could go in for a punishing career and then marry so late in life.

I'm not sorry about that choice. I look at Martha, marrying right out of high school, and I'm so glad I did what I did, even if I did party a little too hearty in my younger and wilder days.

I really like that she's got a chance at life again. Only problem is, once again, she picked a sickie.

I like the guy. I do. Melvin's good people, underneath it all. And he loves her like crazy. And she loves him.

But I'm not gonna watch one of my best friends go through the same agony twice.

I just want him to get better and be good to her. It's the least she deserves.

Speaking of old Melvin, I think I'll call Joyce before I get out on the floor. She and Alyssa are probably going through shift change, I might get both of them.

I get Joyce first, she's about to go on the floor, so all she's got are Alyssa's notes from last night. I ask if I can talk to Alyssa, who's getting ready to go home to her husband and three kiddies, but hasn't left yet.

"Alyssa, how's the new patient?"

She sounds beat. "Which one? We got three last night."

"Whew, bad night. Sorry. I'm talking about Melvin Frohike-"

"Oh, no, not him! Gizzie, I have a lot of patience with people. I really do. And he's pretty much drained mine dry."

I was afraid of that.

"I'm curious. Why the no visitors thing? Looks like his infection's under control. He improved a lot overnight."

"Well, you know how he treats you guys."

"Yeah, and he better be out of here by tomorrow if he wants to keep on living."

"Well, time he got a taste of it. Idiot won't take care of himself, then when he goes and gets laid up, he makes everyone around him miserable. And one of 'em's one of my best buds, and I'm not gonna stand for it. And neither is she."

"Her name wouldn't be Martha, would it?"

"Matter of fact, it would."

"I thought so. He kept asking for her. He says she's a nurse."

"She's also the girlfriend. Which is why I stepped in in the first place."

"I see. He really wants to see his family."

"Tough. He's not going to see them till they're ready to come and take him home."

"Don't you think that's a bit harsh, when there's no medical justification?"

"No...actually..." I find an idea forming in my now-caffeine-fueled brain. "He's got one friend. Guy's name is Fox Mulder. Okay, if this Mulder dude shows up, he can see him. No one else. Got that?"

Alyssa, I can see her shaking her head.

"Just trust me on this one, okay?"

"Gizzie, you owe me." She laughs and hangs up the phone.

Oh, I hope Mr. Mulder takes pity on his friend...

The mere thought makes me giggle.

One of my interns, who looks like he hasn't slept in a week, comes over to me and looks at me totally confused. "Did I miss a joke or something?"

"No, babe, but you don't hurry up and hit the coffee room, you will miss donuts." I brought in 2 dozen, as is my practice at least once a week.

Offer an intern food, and they'll do anything you want.

And that includes get lost.

It's work time, anyway.

And I can start my day with a smile, taking sadistic pleasure in that Melvin Frohike is not on my floor.

And if he has half a brain, he'll show some gratitude in that direction,
too.
 

BYERS:

Do we have to get out of bed?

No, wait, we're on our honeymoon! We don't have to do anything!

And what are you doing here, anyway? Give the newlyweds some privacy!
 

FROHIKE:

I may not have died, but I am in hell.

What is this bullshit that I can't receive visitors? I'm not that sick-I'm better as of this morning.

And I'm dying for a sponge bath, but only from my selected private nurse.

I've been woken up constantly, which is irritating the hell out of me-if I'm supposed to be resting, why is it that nobody gives me any peace?

I didn't have these problems when Martha was my nurse. These nurses, they're evil.

And I'm sorry, I did NOT require an enema!

I know I've done some lousy things in my life, but nothing to deserve this! I can't even see my son, for Christ's sake! I miss the little brat. Granted, he's a pain in the ass, but he makes the time go by.

He damn better have gone to school today. I'll kill him if he didn't.

No doubt he invited Kelly to spend the night-when the cat's away, the mice do play. He'll probably not even have the grace to deny it. I almost think he likes throwing his defiance in my face sometimes. As if we're having a pissing contest, seeing who has more testosterone.

I'll take him on any day.

I wish he was here.

I wish Martha was here. These nurses are brutal. Talk about being on an assembly line.

And they're making me take my godawful blood pressure medication, which I normally avoid like the plague. This is because it has the potential side effect of making one impotent. So far, it hasn't been a problem-mostly because I manage not to take them. I don't want to find out the hard way that they work this kind of black magic. Can you imagine-being in bed with milady, the spirit willing but the flesh weak?

I have no intentions of being a limp rag in that department.

And whatever antibiotic crap they're giving me, it's making my stomach feel rank. Then they expect me to eat? Get real. And why would you want to eat this garbage?

It's enough to want to call out for a pizza. Of course, I was eating pizza the night this all began...

I'm tempted to pick up the phone and dial Domino's. I couldn't eat it right now, but it'd be fun to watch people's faces as a double cheese and extra peppers and scallions with anchovies was delivered to my bedside.

Unfortunately, I don't think Domino's delivers this early in the day.

My leg feels better-no longer feels like it's twice its normal size. And according to the monitor near my bed, I've got a temp of 99.4. Hardly a degree above normal. Why don't they just send me the hell home and give this bed to somebody who can really use it? Martha could do just fine taking care of me. She does excellent nursing care, not to mention wonderful back rubs.

I'm so tired of this. Tired of being flat on my back, tethered to all kinds of electronics-I like electronics, just not when they're hooked up to me, tired of being tired all the time!

It's not as if being here gives me any stress relief. We have a November issue to get out, and the other three probably haven't done jack on it. I've got work galore to do for Ms. Russell. Being here just makes me think about all that's not getting done. I should be doing it. I could be doing it.

I'm just plain pissed off about everything, and that's all there is to it.

The days when I could eat what I want, work when and as much as I want, and run my own life the way I saw fit seem to be gone forever. Now everybody watches me like a hawk, and it's irritating the hell out of me.

Am I ever going to get where I can just be left alone to enjoy life again?

I don't want to be alone, I just want to be left alone! It's my own body, I think I can take care of it, thank you very much!

Yeah, you've done a great job so far, Frohike.

Look, I can't help it if I'm not perfect about following the myriad instructions I was given upon my last hospital release. I'm too busy for that. There's too much to do. I do the best I can. What the hell else does anybody want?

And if anyone thinks I'm going to go and die on them, well, they can forget it. I'll stay alive just to get even with everyone. Living well, they say, is the best revenge...and I'm ripe for as much revenge as possible.

This is so unfair. I'm not that old. I'm going to be 57 on Sunday, and contrary to what my bratty son and my two compadres think, 57 is not old.

I'd like to see what they're going to be like at 57. I plan to be around to laugh at them.

I hope Langly's hair is all gone and Byers is fat. And let's see how much of a stud my young son is when he's not as young as he is now! I hope all Mulder's clients are whining and neurotic and drive him insane. Well, okay, driving Mulder insane? He's been there and done that.

At least his wife is making him have a vasectomy. I think there is justice in the world in that regard. I plan to be there when he has it done, and laugh every inch of the way. I think we should make a party out of it, all of us go with him, and make bad jokes and such while he's suffering.

Yes, if anybody thinks old Frohike plans to roll over and be meek and docile, they have another thing coming.

Of course, it would help if I could get out of this place...
 

MARTHA:

I'm losing my mind.

Yes, I know his condition. I've been updated numerous times. If you have any illusions that I was able to sleep last night, dispense with them now. That's all they are, illusions.

I know he'd be happier were I with him. And I'd certainly feel better, being able to be with him, to watch over him and talk with him and hold his hand.

I love that he's a hand-holder. Daniel was always passionate and affectionate, but he was never one for holding hands. Mel, on the other hand, could hold hands all day and night. And frequently does.

Being in his bed last night-I think of it as our bed now-alone was horrible. I missed how he sleeps spooned around me, as if we were two kittens curled up together. Our bodies fit perfectly, and in sleep, I feel only half there without him.

Why? Why did I have to fall in love with him?

I've jumped from one complicated life to another. And it scares me half to death.

Having an intimate relationship with this man would be difficult enough without external factors. He's secretive and stubborn.

He's also the soul of romance. He's tender and protective (when he's not screaming at everyone around him), almost fierce in his devotion.

I should have gone back to Baltimore last night. Michael asked me to stay. Why, I don't know. Kelly was here with him (against his father's wishes-I think Mel is being rather silly about the whole thing, but Michael is his son, not mine). I guess he feels more secure in times like this with an older adult close at hand.

Older adult, indeed. I'm acting as if I was 15 again. I feel giddy whenever he calls my name, and that's just in normal life. In our moments of being close, when it's just flesh on flesh, well...

The effect is nothing short of seismic.

As a lover, he is magnificent. He knows how to pleasure me, almost instinctively. The way he probes my mouth, tugs at my breast, penetrates me...

Oh Martha, stop it!

And all those sweet, adorable things he does. Chocolate croissants on my birthday. Chocolate raspberry truffle ice cream after a hard day-and I know how much he loves sweets. It's got to kill him to watch me eat this stuff. He does it, anyway.

And how he'll bring me a single red rose, for no reason whatsoever-just because.

How he feels when we sit close and cuddle during an old movie, his breath warm on the back of my neck, his hand tucked softly over mine.

My body is nearly in shock without him near me.

I want to see him. I'm going to go see him.

No.

I want him not only to get well, but to stay well. I need him to be around. There's so much life for us to enjoy.

Which isn't going to happen if he continues to fall ill.

And I can't deal with that. I can deal with the fact that his health is not the best-if he'll do what needs doing.

Nagging him doesn't work. He's immune to it. Forcing him to do anything is futile.

Maybe Gizzie's right. This is what he needs. A couple days in hell, to get a sense of perspective.

But then there's Genie's advice. A chance to be away, to be a couple, time for both of us to be healed in body and spirit.

Perhaps a morning walk would be more appealing on a deserted beach. Sleep comes more easily with the gentle rocking waves touching the shore just outside your window. And everything just tastes better in the salt air.

I dial information for the management company.
 

The property is available to us from Friday to Thursday of next week.

I should at least check with Gizzie first-she is my charge nurse-but without hesitation, I pull out my MasterCard and read off the 16 digits.

The house is ours for nearly a week. And I'll still be in time to move into my new apartment. I've set up the movers and arranged for things that won't fit-which is nearly 75 percent of my things-to go into storage.

Now I have to tell Gizzie. She is probably going to be unhappy. I'm going to have to stand my ground.

She's busy, of course, when I call. I'm on hold for nearly seven minutes, but I know the drill.

"Talk to me, and remember that speed matters." A standard Gizzie greeting.

"Gizzie, it's Martha."

"You okay?"

"Fine."

"You're not at the VA, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

"Good. So tell me what's up."

"Gizzie, I need some more vacation time."

"Look, if you think you're going to nurse him at home-"

"No, I'm not. I'm taking him on vacation."

She pauses for a moment. "Vacation. As in, going somewhere?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Atlantic Beach. Near where I grew up."

She mulls that one over for roughly 15 seconds.

I feel guilty. We're so short of hands, we're so busy...

"Okay."

"You mean, you'll give me the time?"

"It's done."

"Gizzie, thanks so much-"

"No problem, just let me get back to it before I change my mind."

I told you she was a good friend.
 

I have to work tonight. In the meantime, there are hours before I have to be on shift.

Not being with Mel is going to make me crazy.

Of course, the best thing to do when you're miserable is cheer someone else up.

And I haven't visited Jo in a while.

I think this would be a good day for it.

END OF PART 5