Word of the Day 090.

[rosetattoo]

HERE @ muserevival

Coterie
n. 1. a group of people who associate closely. 2. an exclusive group; clique.

There hadn’t been many occasions yet that Rose and Angel had left their new baby daughter with anyone. They were still learning to be parents, and with that came the fierce over-protectiveness and separation anxiety. It was tough for them to leave her with anyone else without one of them being around. It would get better, they knew that. But for now, people understood. They were so damn lucky to have a very close and extended network of people around them for support, and right now, it felt like they were all connected to Beau.

( And Beau was the reason Angel and Rose were leaving their baby girl with Rose’s big sister, Julie, and her husband, Euan, that morning... )

@ wayswithwords

[notskywalker]

There is always an appropriate life moment to break into a Queen song when you're home alone and walking around the house in your Superman undies.

@ muserevival || 071.4. Ten Things

[notskywalker]

HERE @ muserevival

Ten movies that are a must in your movie collection

1) Mad Max
2) Harry Potter
3) Trainspotting
4) Pulp Fiction
5) Star Wars
6) Catch Me If You Can
7) Bad Boys
8) The Goonies
9) Grease
10) Labyrinth

"Bring me back to you."

[halfwaytoheaven]

Who: Beau Watson-Shaw and Austin Watson-Shaw
What: Hope
Where: ICU, Mount Sinai
When: Late Tuesday night

It was really late on Tuesday night. The only traffic through the ICU were nightshift staff and the occasional visitor sitting vigil and trying to claw some energy back with bad coffee from the vending machine. There was no awareness to time or day, though. Not when Beau was opening his eyes again and this time, even though it took a few minutes, he managed to focus a little on his surroundings.

He was hazy, to say the very least. Hazy and in pain. A lot of pain, but he wasn't really foreign to that. He glanced around, and that was when he gave a small whimper, and a stiff move of his fingers told him someone's hands were around his. Someone who was suddenly leaping out of the chair like something bit him on the bum because he had been dozing and the movement in his hands unexpected to his tired brain. "Where--" was all Beau got out in a hoarse mumble because it was going to take just a little longer for him to be able to connect words in his brain and get them out of his mouth in something understandable.

[ TEXT MESSAGE ] To Evan

[slowsouthernstyle]

I'm worried about Jace. He hasn't woken up all day.

[ FACEBOOK ]

[inkandleather]

Everyone's a bitch.

"We will cure this dirty old disease."

[doctortara]

Who: Tara Campbell and Beau Watson-Shaw
What: "Uncovering the ways to plan the next big attack."
Where: ICU, Mount Sinai
When: Morning after THIS

There was no right or wrong process for a person coming through time spent on life support. That was even more emphasised when the person had cancer, and further still if the reason they were on life support was chemotherapy complications. Beau's cancer was in his blood, so it was systemically universal, and the complications in his heart. Heart, lungs and brain were always the biggest danger zones. Just because he was breathing, just because he had woken up, that didn't mean he was safe. Physically, the staff had their finger on the pulse as much as they could. He was being extremely closely monitored, and he was still classified in the high risk category, but Tara was worried about his state of mind.

Beau not only had to face the emotional onslaught of coming off life support after he had nearly lost his life, but there was the fact he had a DNR in place that his husband hadn't been able to honour. He was waking up sick and in pain, he was waking up to resume a fight he had been ready to see the end of. Tara wanted to speak to him private, but up to now, Beau was still in and out. He was more lucid, he was responsive, and he was talking. But he had ups and downs, and she had wanted to stabilise his pain levels and let him have time with Austin before she tried to analyse where his mind was. Even then, where his mind and emotions were upon waking could be a completely different to where he was now.

He was dozing when she came in so she checked his charts, studying all the readings closely. When he opened his eyes a little, she hooked the chart back up and came to his side, leaning on the rails of his bed with a soft smile. "I wasn't sure if we'd ever be having another wee chat, honey," she told him in a murmur and rested her hand over his.

"You can't always get what you want."

[inkandleather]

Who: Jace Turner and anyone who wants to intercept on his bitch mood!
What: Staging a passive-aggressive protest
Where: Neurology Unit, Mount Sinai
When: Morning after THIS

Jace really wasn't happy. He tended to turn into a huge bitch when he wasn't happy. He had woken up in hospital and that was something guaranteed to piss him off. Of course, he knew that with his condition, there were just times he landed in hospital but he had spent so much time in one in the past that he had a serious aversion to being a patient. These were the times he slipped in his 'just deal with it' attitude about his condition and hated being epileptic. These were the the times he wanted to be normal. He wanted to be able to do normal things. He didn't want the frequent reminder that he had this thing where his brain checked out on him... and that sometimes, that could be more serious than just waiting out the post-ictal process of his seizures.

Waking up in hospital meant there was a blip in the system. What was normally controlled had gone a bit haywire. It either meant he had a really bad fit, had a small fit, and then a bad fit in rapid succession, or he got locked in the 'broke record' mode where his brain kept him fitting over and over again. Outwardly, it could just seem like he was asleep or staring into space, but if he didn't move or respond, it could mean his brain was pulling the broken record pain in the ass on him.

When he woke up in another hospital bed, he wasn't happy. He didn't snap or shout, he wasn't a brat, or anything like that. He was just quiet and moody. He was glaring at anyone who he didn't know, they were getting barely a nod or a shake of his head in reply to questions. Now his breakfast had been delivered and he didn't want it. The lights were dimmed down in his room because they would be trying to prevent further fits while he was monitored, there was no remote control to turn the TV on because flickering images on the screen could trigger him, and he was usually sensitive to sounds.

Despite denying that he wanted his breakfast, the kitchen lady left it for him anyway... probably under orders to do such. It was just another thing plummeting Jace's mood below zero. One thing he had learnt during his time as a brain injury patient it was that there was a lot of waiting. Waiting for doctors to finish with other patients, waiting for nurses to answer the buzzers, waiting for information on why he was in there. Waiting for decisions on what came next. He could wait, that just didn't have to meant he had to wait in a good mood. He hit the nurse call button to get someone to come take the food away because the sight and smell of it was making him feel sick. He wanted to be at home in his own bed. In fact, he wanted to be anywhere but there.