Message-ID: <19651eli$9902040441@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: cyan@anon.nymserver.com Subject: {ASSM} New TG: The Lab - Ch. Two 1/2 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <199902032350.PAA01930@shaman.lycaeum.org> "The Lab" by Rebecca A. (TG) This is the second chapter of a story I will produce a new chapter of (hopefully) every two weeks or so. It contains some fairly mild sex, but if you're under 18 etc... it's not for you. Those of you looking for hot sex will probably be disappointed, since it is petty tame stuff. Feel free to archive or otherwise distribute, provided it is unedited and no fee is charged for access. This story may not be distributed from any site that charges money, is members-only, or uses that ridiculous "adult check" thing (or any similar system). All rights reserved by the author, who can be contacted at cyan@anon.nymserver.com I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know. Becky *** Chapter Two. At about 4.00 am I woke, in agony. It felt like my joints were on fire. My mouth was dry, and my head was pounding. At first I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't want to wake Catherine. But a spasm of pain swept through me and I groaned, and she was instantly awake. "What's wrong?" she asked. I tried to explain as best I could, and she was immediately in professional mode, taking my pulse and my temperature and inspecting me clinically. "You have a high fever," she said. "I'm going to take you over to the clinic." We dressed, although she had to help me, I was shaking as well as having muscle spasms. I was terrified. "What's happening to me?" I cried. I tried to explain to Catherine that apart from the events of the past month or so I'd barely had a sick day in my life. Ever since that accident at Dawe ... "I know," she said. "I couldn't find any problems then, but I think I must have missed something. I'm going to get my friend Bob Esterhaus to look at you." I was in enormous pain, through fiery stabbing pains in my joints and a burning feeling around my face, but Catherine said she'd rather not give me anything if I could stand the pain until she'd run a couple of tests. We went out to her car, as I was sure I couldn't drive and she didn't want to wrestle with mine again. She had a small red BMW, which she drove quickly and efficiently while I moaned in the seat beside her, convinced my body was dissolving or something. While she drove she was on the cellphone to someone. We arrived at the clinic she worked at, and were greeted by several orderlies and a nurse who placed me on a gurney and wheeled me into a small consulting room. I was still moaning, and tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable. Catherine came into the room with a guy I took to be a doctor. After a few moments he organized a shot which took away all my pain. I reached for Catherine's hand and she held mine as I slipped away into unconsciousness. I drifted in and out of awareness several times, each time seeing figures beside the bed but only vaguely, before I awoke completely in the light of day. The sun was trying to poke through the drawn blinds, and I could see it was a sunny day outside. As I twisted in bed I noticed that, although I thought I still had a buzz from the drugs, the pain was mostly gone. I had an IV drip in my arm, and a hospital gown on. There was no sign of Catherine. After I'd been awake about ten minutes a nurse came in, and gave a small start when she saw I was awake. She gave me a shot in the hip, scuttled out again, then returned about five minutes later with a tall, imposing man who introduced himself as Dr Esterhaus. He flicked the fluorescent lights in the room on. "How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Ealey?" I had to clear my throat to speak. My voice came out a little hoarse and raspy. I told him I felt a lot better, though perhaps that was the drugs. "Yes, you've been very feverish for a while now. We were quite concerned. Mr. Ealey --" "-- Call me Jim" "-- Jim, Can you understand me clearly?" I nodded, and he continued. "Jim, Dr Adams -- Catherine -- was only able to give us a few details about you. Your friend Tom Masterson gave us some others, but I need to ask you some questions if that's alright." He'd spoken to Tom, too? That was fast. He pulled a chair from the side of the room and sat down next to the bed. The nurse handed him the charts from the foot of the bed, and went to open the blinds. He ran through some basic questions. Any allergies to medication that I knew about? He asked me to describe the symptoms I'd had recently. "That was all after the incident at Dawe Chemical?" he asked. I nodded. "Well," he went on, "I've looked at your blood work from that accident and you seemed fine then. Jim, does your family have any history of medical problems we should know about?" I thought of my Mom and Dad, still healthy as ever back in Detroit. And my grandparents, who were still, all four of them, active and healthy. I told him we weren't a family that was prone to get sick at all. He then asked me whether I'd been overseas recently, perhaps to Africa? I shook my head. "No. I went to Europe for a while just after I graduated, but that's the only travel I've done unless you count Canada a few times." He settled into his chair and looked at me earnestly. Jim, we'd like to keep you for observation for a while. You're certainly not well enough to be discharged yet anyway. But we'd like to run some tests to see if we can pin down what this is. The last few days have had us a little puzzled. We --" I interrupted. "The last few days? What do you mean?" Dr Esterhaus seemed momentarily surprised. "Jim, you've been here for several days now. Today is Thursday" "I came in on Monday morning." "Yes," he said gently. "You've been somewhat delirious for most of that time. This is the first opportunity we've had to ask you these questions." I lay back in bed and tried to think. The last thing I remembered properly was being in the passenger seat of Catherine's car, in agony. "Jim, we'd like to run some more tests if that's okay with you." "What kind?" "Blood tests, mostly, though there are a few others. We need to take some x-rays and some urine samples." He hesitated, as though searching for words. He looked grave. His expression bothered me. "What?" I said impatiently. "It's not HIV, we know that." I snorted. "I could have told you that, Doc. I take my responsibilities seriously, and I'm always careful. Besides, I haven't exactly been very active over the last few years." "Yes. Well, we know it isn't that. Jim, I'll be blunt. We're unsure at the moment really, because a lot of things don't fit, but we think perhaps -- and this is only a perhaps so you should not be too concerned -- you might have some new form of leukemia we haven't seen before. Your leukocyte count -- white blood cells -- is way up, well over normal, and we can't find a viral infection so we don't quite know yet what's causing it. But if it is a form of leukemia it's not one we've seen before. Your fever is abnormal, and points to a viral cause, and the pains you are describing don't quite fit either. But we'd like to rule out that possibility before we go any further." I looked at the ceiling and wished I could lapse back into unconsciousness. Over the next few days I was subjected to several tests. Dr Esterhaus came and asked me some more questions about the accident at Dawe. Tom called by on the Friday night, and we talked for a while. I was pretty light headed from the painkillers and found it hard to keep my concentration. Most of the time I slept. partly I think because of the drugs and also because I seemed to be very tired again. On the Saturday I woke up to find Catherine sitting beside the bed, reading a book. I watched her for a few moments, before she looked up to see me looking at her. She smiled. I'd forgotten how good that was. "How are you?" she asked. "My voice was still raspy. "Pretty good, I guess. Whatever these painkillers are, they're great." "Careful," she said jokingly, "We Doctors are good pushers when we want to be." "Catherine ... I'm very, very sorry about putting you through all this." She stood up, and came and stood close to the bed. She ran her hand through my hair. "It's okay," she said gently. "You gave me a bit of a fright the other night, though. I thought I was thorough when I checked you out at Dawe." "Dr Esterhaus says you were. He looked at the blood tests you did -- "-- Yes, I passed them on to him when you were unconscious. That's kind of a breach of ethics, but I was worried." Did he tell you what he thought it might be?" "No," Catherine said. It was the first time I had the feeling she might not have been telling me the truth. I changed the subject, and we talked for a while about some of the bad daytime television I'd been trying to watch. Catherine stayed until about nine, sitting on the bed next to me. We kissed -- I was embarrassed because I hadn't had the opportunity to brush my teeth for a while. Eventually she left. I lay back and thought of the last time we'd been together. I feel asleep eventually and had some vivid and disturbing dreams, the first dreams I'd had since being in hospital. She was in the dream, too. But there was someone else, someone who wanted to take something away from me, and I didn't know what it was they wanted. I forgot most of it when I woke in the middle of the night, but it disturbed me all the same. By the middle of the next week the pain didn't seem so bad, and they began to wean me off the drugs. Dr. Esterhaus came to see me each day, and on the Monday he was able to tell me that he'd been able to positively rule out Leukemia and most of the known blood diseases. He was sure it wasn't contagious, whatever it was. So if the pain subsided I would be able to go home soon. Catherine came to see me every second day or so. As the pain wore off I became better company. She'd come by on the nights she wasn't on call, and we'd watch TV together, or just talk about whatever came into our heads. She heard a lot about my childhood, I learned a lot more about her life before she met me. She'd done a lot for someone who was only in her mid twenties, and had traveled throughout Europe and most of Asia, even as far as India. She brought me in some photographs of her in India, looking like a hippie when she was 19 and had long hair. She looked cute then, but she'd improved as she'd gotten older. Three weeks after I had been admitted I was allowed to go home. Catherine came to pick me up. She took me to Tom's place, at his suggestion, since I was still pretty weak and Dr Esterhaus wasn't thrilled about me being on my own a lot. Tom was at work during the days, and I knew he had a pretty full social life with the ladies, but he told me I not to argue, and that he wouldn't have me stay anywhere else. I had the phone diverted from my place to his. Catherine promised me she'd come by regularly. I took over Tom's spare bedroom. I was able to walk around, though I was still very weak. My body felt drained. I had been in good physical condition before I was admitted -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----