#nycgleeks

[fashion-b-kurt-hummel-anderson]

and the walls kept tumbling down (/tag-Klaine)

Kurt never liked hospitals.  While it took a huge step to go to them for his own devices, the most nerve-wracking thing was when he was there as family of a patient, like when they ran tests on Blaine, and one test led to another, to another, and to yet another.  They were scary too, ranging from blood work, to scans, to even these scary things involving wires and needles and electrodes.  

Given Kurt’s own illness, he thought he had seen all sorts of scary tests, but there was something about needles being stuck in Blaine’s nerve endings being charged with electrodes to rule out MS.  When it wasn’t MS, it was because something else had fit the mold - something coming up in lab work.  Now, that had been something that brought chills down Kurt’s spine.  But with deep breaths, and a confident front, those performing art years had come in handy.  But in all honesty, Kurt was terrified.  

Looking back to the Chemo, Kurt being in the midst of another round, combined with powerful anti-nausea medication to allow him to keep even the lightest broth down, heavy-duty B12 vitamins, and right now, sipping very strong home-brewed iced tea in a water bottle brought from home because that was the safest way to avoid contamination,his gaze darted nervously between Blaine, and the Dr’s office.  When things couldn’t be said over the phone, it was always something, and the last thing they had done on Blaine had been the biopsy.  Biopsy was already a really scary word.  Especially when earlier in the week, they had been scanning his head and spine.  

He put the bottle away and then pulled out and held the customized and designed mask that coordinated with his outfit for that day.  Being a designer meant that you could fashion appliques and slip covers on just about anything.  “You think we’re safe in his office - or should I - just in case some other person tracked something in here?”  Shifting his gaze towards the doctor’s desk, Kurt looked at Blaine.  “You think I should peek through his desk to see if I can kill the suspense any?”  He was half-joking to keep Blaine in good humor, but also half serious.  But just then, he heard voices down the hall, like people could have been heading in the direction of the office they sat in.  

Kurt reached for Blaine’s hand, and tilted his head to the side.  “You feeling okay B?” he whispered.  

[fashion-b-kurt-hummel-anderson]

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

It had been a couple of weeks back home.  Kurt had immediately taken to bringing the holiday cheer to the Hummel-Anderson household.  Kurt and Blaine had talked about telling the kids about Kurt’s health, but Kurt, being stubborn, kept finding excuses to not want to put a damper on the holidays.  He had promised Blaine that after the holidays, he’d come clean to the whole family. In the meantime, they should behave as normal as a happy family as possible.  The last thing Kurt could ever want was, should things have turned out as none of them wanted, for the last holiday to be depressing.  This was going to be a great holiday, like the ones before things like work and pride and silly ambition got in the way. 

There were good days, and there were weak days, still.  The blood work had revealed that Kurt had stopped progression of his illness, but little improvement had been made.  His doctors expected at least 3-4 more cycles of treatment before Kurt could be declared NED.  For Kurt, this took an emotional toll on him for a few days, until he gathered his bearings once again.  The plan was that he would resume his next cycle of therapy just after Christmas.  However, because his immune system was still weakened from the first round, Kurt managed to catch the flu maybe by just breathing outside.  He had managed to stay out of going back to the hospital, but only because of the concierge medical services he contracted on standby.  

Because of this, doctors hesitated in allowing outpatient Chemo as of yet.  Though Kurt, stubborn and steadfast in making the right calls and proper arrangements, had managed to find a way to get the home sanitized and approved for home-bound, concierge treatment.  He would just have to keep the house free of germs, and have to have the hospital on standby if he happened to get sick to the point of needing round-the-clock medical supervision.  It was funny what possibilities opened up when money was no concern.   

The kids were, well,like most young adults, off in their antics, and occasionally home for supper.  On this particular weekend morning, Kurt and Blaine had the place to themselves. Kurt was definitely feeling much better today, enough that he wished to bring another fun holiday antic into the household.  He woke up early to bake cookies, to later decorate.  The cold air was an indicator that fresh cookies and cocoa (or eggnog) seemed like the way to go.  Before too long, the heavenly sweet aroma of cookies hung in the air, accompanied by the Christmas Music channel on the radio.  

Leave it for Kurt to wear a designer turtleneck, even when covered by an apron in the kitchen. The apron somehow managed to coordinate with said sweater and the designer scarf that was twisted into a fashionable head covering, and elegantly knotted at the nape of Kurt’s neck.  This very moment, Kurt stood over rolled out cookie dough, his cheek unknowingly streaked with flour as he stared at the dough, likely in contemplation of what cookie cutters to use...  

[landon-st-james]

Luck, be a lady (oneshot)

The surgery had started without a hitch.   They had kept Landon sedated, but conscious, to be able to continue talking to demonstrate his cognitive abilities as they worked on.  It was a crazy thing, cutting open his cranium while he still blinked and talked, but he couldn’t feel a thing.  They were asking him random questions, or starting interesting conversation topics, when the first complication arose, right as they started to cut into the Tiny Tim tissue.  

Landon’s speech started to slur at some point, half his face sagged to one side, and an eyelid drooped.  At this point, his eyes rolled back into this blackness of unconsciousness, and his body twitched and thrashed convulsively.  And at this point, blood trickled down to his face, past his shoulders and down to his front as the medical staff raced to stabilize him.  It was then when the heart monitor wailed for a moment, before those paddles jolted his heart back into function.  

At this point, mildly stabilized but not out of the woods, doctors had to make that quick decision, sew him up, or finish cutting then sew him up.  One doctor had the idea to completely sedate him to a state of paralysis, just in case another convulsive fit set in.  Thrashing could cause the surgeon to cut the wrong spot.  This involved intubating him and letting a machine breathe for him, as the medication paralyzed his diaphragm.  Once Landon was properly sedated, the surgeon proceeded to finish cutting and remove exactly half of Tiny Tim, which he put in a jar to be sent to pathology for further testing.

When he was all sewn up, patched up, and bandaged, Landon was weaned off the anesthetic though doctors were hesitant to remove the breathing tube for a few more hours.  They needed to see the extent of neurological effects once he came around.  Landon was transported to ICU to be kept under close monitoring.  It was up to Landon to wake up at this point.  There came that point where he did twitch his fingers and slowly begin opening his eyes.  But it was obvious that one side of his face slacked.  Upon removal of the breathing tube, it was obvious that he struggled to speak.  

Given the partial paralysis and the difficulty speaking, it was clear to the neurologist and neurosurgeon that he had suffered a stroke during the surgery.  What more, the vision of one eye had been compromised, though it was hard to tell if this effect was temporary due to swelling, or permanent damage.  The paralysis extended down his left leg and up his arm, which doctors weren’t even sure would be permanent or not.  The doctors couldn’t even apologize, because it was a risk to begin with.  They wrapped all of this up with a bow, saying that they had done all they could do up to now, and the rest would be up to Landon, who would likely require rehabilitation as his body recovered.  Only through recovery, would doctors be able to verify what symptom was temporary, and which damage was left permanent.  

[landon-st-james]

Across the Universe /-Oneshot

> Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup They slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe Pools of sorrow waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind Possessing and caressing me<

The day of the anticipated surgery (which was postponed due to Hurricane mishap) had arrived.  The night before, Landon had hardly slept a wink.  Mostly because he wanted to be as aware and as present as he could be, before a couple of weeks in some drug-induced haze of pain medications, a grade above his usual dose.  That was his excuse, but deep down inside, he was nervous about a lot of things.  No one liked to be sick, put under anesthetic, cut open, and sewn back together.  

Landon was lucky, though.  He had his system of family and friends by his side.  Even if the worst case scenario happened, he knew that they’d be able to take care of each other.  It was kind of sad, but he already had the living will drafted up ages ago.  But he was determined that it would never come to that.  

When they came to wheel him in, he was a bit loopy with the mild sedative they gave him, but coherent enough to never let go of Mia’s hand on one end, and to never cease cracking jokes with his father.  In his mind, Brooke needed rest.  He actually told her to not bother coming if she could help it, because he’d rest assured knowing she was taking it easy.  But if she came, he’d enjoy her company once he came back around.  Mia needed rest too, but in all honesty, telling Mia to stay put and rest when he was going under was remarkably akin to sticking a vampire in a blood bank with strict orders ‘not to touch’.  It wasn’t going to happen.

When he went under, his last thought was this hope that his family was comfortable, and that all this would go by as quickly as possible.  The dream he had while under was so vivid.  Out of the blackness he faded into a scene where the surgical team was scrambling around him.  He looked like he had been freshly sewn up on his abdomen. But this situation looked like trouble.  The monitors read erratic readings, then 0, and a flat line, and a wail of the monitor.  Then came these painful jolts which were in sync with the charged paddles that the attending surgeon pressed against his chest.  

A painful jolt sent him into the surgical waiting room, and there was his family, talking to a guy in scrubs and a mask.  Things looked serious. He could see the panic in their eyes, and the sadness, and hear it in their voices.  The doctor said something along the lines of ‘Code Blue... Cardiac Arrest ... touch  and go.... all those Negative Nancy shpeals.  Landon wanted to argue that he was fine, that he felt no pain at this moment, other than the jolts of electricity.  But one painful jolt, and things went white, before black again.  Then, things felt like he was under water.  

He heard echoing voices, but he couldn’t respond.  All he could do was float in this haze.  Comatose... He was in a coma.  Inwardly, Landon cursed himself for bringing up that whole living will thing to Mia. He wasn’t ready to let go just yet.  He would just have to stick around, and not give any reason to think he wasn’t going to come out of this.   Then again, knowing Mia, she would know when Landon wasn’t thinking straight, so her will would override any piece of paper anytime.  Landon found himself in a tunnel of shadows, with daylight just in the distance.  He started walking towards this tunnel.  He just had to get outside to show them he was alright...

>Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes They call me on and on across the universe Thoughts meander like a restless wind Inside a letter box they Stumble blindly as they make their way Across the universe <