Chapter Thirty-Nine
Tony and Emily stopped in front of the fourth door to the right on the second floor of Wyndemere. Tony's hand gripped his medical bag tightly, and he knocked loudly on the door. "Lucky, are you in there?" Silence answered back. Tony knocked again. "Lucky!?" He turned the leaded crystal doorknob and was shocked at the sight of empty bottles all over the floor, some upright, some turned over on their sides - lots of them.
Tony held his hand up. "Emily I think you should stay in the hallway while I check out this room. Stay there please." Emily opened her mouth to protest, but thought better when she considered Tony's authoritative tone of voice. "Okay," she said quietly, backing away and leaning on the wood paneled wall in the hallway.
Tony entered the room and shut the door halfway to block the view from Emily. The bed was unmade and sheets in disarray. Someone had obviously been there in the previous night. Tony counted four wine bottles and two other bottles littering the floor by the bed. Some red wine had spilled lightly on the expensive, white linen sheets and stained them in a pink, psychedelic pattern. Lucky was nowhere to be found.
Tony shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Maybe there's an adjoining bath, he thought. Tony stepped over the debris and walked to the doorway on the left. The wooden door was ajar and creaked ominously when Tony's fingers pushed it in. Tony stared, shocked at the sight of Lucky curled up on his side by the porcelain bowl and surrounded by a sea of red.
"Lucky!" said Tony with a choked voice as he kneeled beside Lucky's body. He turned Lucky over and saw the angry purple bruise on his cheekbone where he must have fallen face-first on the hard surface of the toilet bowl. Tony lightly slapped Lucky on the cheek, but there was no response. Tony placed his medical bag on the floor, opened it and swiftly removed the stethoscope.
"Heart and lungs sound fine," Tony murmured. "Pulse rate a little fast. Pupils equal and reactive. He must just be passed out drunk." Tony turned Lucky back over on his side and walked toward the door.
"Emily," he said lightly. "Lucky is in the bathroom. He seems to be fine, but he's had an accident. Can you search for a mop and a bucket? There may be one in the butler's pantry. That would be a big help."
Emily nodded and asked, "He's okay, right?" Tony nodded and sighed when Emily raced off. "Let's get you cleaned up before she comes back," he said. Tony went back to the bathroom and pulled Lucky away from the toilet. He grabbed several towels and started wiping up the mess, depositing the towels in the bathtub when he was done. Tony frowned at the red color, but it was hard to tell if it was all blood or the wine, too. Tony grabbed a washcloth, wet it in the sink, rubbed some soap on it and proceeded to clean off Lucky's face, neck and hands. He hummed while he worked, trying to take his mind off of the situation and hoping that Lucky would wake up soon. He wrung out the cloth under a stream of hot water, and wiped him down again.
Lucky moaned lightly when Tony wiped him off for the last time. "Coming back to join us, are you kiddo," Tony chuckled. "You'll wish you were dead when you do wake up." Tony went back into the bedroom for a pillow and blanket and placed the pillow under Lucky's head. "You'll be safer in here, on your side," he said, draping the blanket over Lucky. "Just in case."
Tony sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out his cell phone. "Kevin? This is Tony Jones. We need to talk."
~*~*~*~
Lucky lay uneasily on a wooden bench lining the wall of the launch, his right arm loosely hanging over his midriff. The wind sent waves rolling through the river, and his stomach ripped with pain and nausea. Underneath his red-rimmed eyes, his pale skin tone deepened into a sick dark blue reminiscent of a raccoon's mask. His limp, damp hair littered his face and puffed up occasionally with his tense exhalations. No one said much on the launch ride. Tony occasionally spouted some medical stuff, but Lucky tuned him out. His main focus was trying to divert the pain in his head and stomach and survive the launch ride. His mind wandered in and out of focus, and it bothered him that he couldn't remember how he'd ended up this way.
*** His eyes kept trying to open, but immediately closed upon assault from the bright light. Finally, his eyes stayed open for a minute and slowly focused on a pair of large, brown shoes. A hand reached out and cupped his chin, but his eyes closed again to the steady drum of rhythmic noise in the background. Was that a voice? I'm so sick and tired.
He felt his ribs biting into the cold, hard floor. He shivered and felt a blanket over him. Where am I? What's going on? He tried to lift his head off of a pillow, but stopped as a wave of nausea flattened him to the ground and an explosion of pain rocked through his head. He started coughing and choking and couldn't seem to stop. A pair of hands lifted him by his armpits and held him over a toilet bowl as he threw up endlessly. A warm, wet cloth wiped his face, and he was lowered back to his pillow. His eyes closed, and his mind drifted down and away.
He woke with a start when the pain began searing through his stomach. He cried out and held his abdomen, rocking back and forth on the cold floor. The hand stroked his head and murmured softly. He calmed and closed his eyes again. After awhile, the sounds started to make sense and formed into words. "Lucky, you need to sit up. Let's get you up." Lucky half-leaned and half slid down against the porcelain bathtub. A glass of water was lifted to his lips, and he drank deeply until he sputtered and coughed. He closed his eyes and started sliding further down the side of the tub, but was pulled upright. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Tony Jones' face looking at him with a worried, creased brow.
"Tony?" he asked weakly. "Where am I?"
"Lucky, you're at Wyndemere. You've had too much to drink and passed out in the bathroom."
"I don't remember drinking anything," Lucky protested. "What…what are you talking about?"
Tony looked concerned. "What's the last thing you remember?"
"Um, I was having ribs and fries… with Nikolas. We had a contest and we ate too much. That's all I remember."
"Let's see if we can get you to the bed, okay?" Tony pulled Lucky to his feet. Lucky stooped over like an old man, and took one tentative, creaky step.
"Ohmigod, Tony!" Lucky's right hand flew to the wall, and he leaned heavily on it for support. He felt dizzy, and it seemed like the room was spinning all around him. Tony half-supported him as they walked very slowly out of the bathroom. When they were almost to the bed, Lucky cried out loudly as the pain shredded his insides. He doubled over, fell on one knee and panted.
"Lucky, you're in severe pain and vomiting blood. I think we need to get you to the hospital right away to have you checked out. Can you try to walk?"
Lucky muttered breathlessly, "Not again, no more hospitals," as he slowly headed with Tony toward the door. ***
Lucky moaned with nausea. He felt so bad he wanted to die. Every time the wave lifted the
boat up, his stomach gripped in pain and sharp darts of agony banged through his head.
Twice he had to quickly jump up and lean over the side of the boat to vomit. It hurt his
head to move around so much, and he longed for a soft pillow and a wide, comfortable bed.
Emily knelt beside Lucky. "Lucky," she said softly. "You're going to be all right. We'll get you to GH to fix your stomach. Here's a bucket if you need it." Emily groaned inwardly. I sound so stupid. I don't know what to say or do.
Lucky's eyes narrowly opened as slits, and he moaned when he turned toward Emily. "Why do you even care?" he asked sadly with tears in his eyes. "I keep letting you down."
"I'm not happy about what you did," Emily admitted, "But, I love you anyway. I'm not leaving you, got that?" She patted his hand and took her seat, nervously picking at her nails and holding back her tears as her eyes occasionally darted toward Lucky.
Lucky turned away and faced the peeling, gray planked side of the boat, embarrassed and ashamed by his predicament. Why can't I remember drinking? he wondered for the fifth time. He bit down hard on his lip to stifle a cry when his stomach seared with a hot poker of pain. Lucky desperately tried to soothe himself by rhythmically rocking back and forth on the hard bench. Oh God, oh God…I don't know if I'm gonna make it.
Tony glanced at Lucky and noticed his agony. "Lucky, do you want me to call an ambulance to meet us at the docks? I don't like how pale you look." Tony's voice was edged with alarm.
"I'm…fine," Lucky gritted through his teeth while wrapping his arms around his middle. "Please, just drive me to the hospital."
~*~*~*~
Lucky stretched out in the back seat of Tony's car with a blue, plastic bucket on the floor in front of his face. He'd already used it five times since they'd left the docks, and he lay weakly on his side, breathing rapidly and shallowly and drifting in and out of consciousness. He had the sick taste of iron in his mouth from all the blood he'd vomited. Every once in awhile, Tony would throw a question at him, and he'd respond with a grunt or groan. He was silent the last time Tony tried to get him to talk.
Tony hurriedly parked the car in the GH lot in front of Emergency. "Stay with Lucky," he instructed Emily as he exited the car. "I'm going to have them bring out a gurney. I don't think he can walk." Emily nodded, wiped away a tear and glanced fearfully over her shoulder to the back seat where Lucky's still, prone body sprawled in disarray.
~*~*~*~
Dr. Karen Wexler walked over to Tony Jones, who was seated in the Emergency waiting room. Tony had insisted on sending Emily home in a cab an hour ago with the promise that he'd call when he knew about Lucky.
Tony raised his eyebrows expectantly. "What's the news, Karen?" he asked calmly.
Karen replied, "Lucky has a bleeding ulcer in his upper GI. The severe gastritis that resulted from his alcohol consumption irritated the ulcer and set off the hematemesis. We've given him medication to control the vomiting, and the bleeding has subsided. He's receiving two units of blood to replace the blood he's lost, and he is on an IV to rehydrate him. I spoke to Kevin Collins about his meds, and he believes that one of Lucky's medications mixed with the alcohol could have caused his amnesia. By the way, Kevin Collins should be here soon, and he asked if you'd stay so he could talk to you. Lucky is scheduled for an endoscopy one hour from now to repair the ulcer if necessary and determine if any bleeding is recurring. We'll have a better idea of where the ulcer is after the endoscopy. He can go home after a brief recovery period. Here is a prescription to control his vomiting. Make sure he drinks lots of fluids and rests. Give him soup, broth, pudding, nothing too solid or hard to digest. .
"Thanks, Karen," said Tony with a small smile.
"No problem, Tony. Lucky should be fine, but bring him back in if the hematemesis starts up again, okay?"
Tony nodded and sat back down in his chair with a thud and a groan. A killer headache was descending on him, and he tiredly rubbed his forehead.
~*~*~*~
Kevin Collins clapped Tony on the back and sat down beside him in the ER waiting room. "Not too much fun being part of a support system, is it my friend?" Kevin's warm brown eyes reflected concern and sympathy.
Tony groaned. "I knew what I was getting into when I took Lucky in. I'm a physician, remember? We're used to emergencies. Only it's not too much fun being the one sitting in waiting rooms on uncomfortable chairs eating stale Cheetos and drinking bad hospital coffee"
Kevin drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and crossed his leg. "Yes, but you need to take care of yourself, too, Tony. It can't be easy with all of Lucky's problems and the unpredictable nature of his illnesses. Do you have someone you can talk to and relieve some of your stress?"
"I've gotten closer to Lucky's aunt, Bobbie. We talk a lot, and that seems to help. I don't know how much to tell her sometimes, though. She's eaten up by guilt over abandoning him. And, I'm worried about Emily Quartermaine. She's been so loyal to Lucky, a really good friend, but she's only seventeen and his problems are serious. It's a lot for a kid to deal with, and I know she's had a lot of burdens with her brother and father's addictions. Who is there for her?"
"Alcoholism can be vicious," Kevin agreed. "It affects the alcoholic and everyone around him or her. Emily might be helped by a program geared toward teenagers with alcoholic friends or family."
"I was thinking that I need to know more about this myself," Tony admitted. "I don't have any experience with alcohol problems in my family, and I'd like learn how families like Bobbie's are affected. Plus, I need to be better equipped on how to deal with Lucky. I don't want to make the problem worse by what I say or do."
"That's a good idea, Tony. Knowledge is power, you know." Kevin chuckled. "You should be commended on how you've taken Lucky into your life. He really respects and looks up to you."
"I don't know, Kevin. Lucky's been a blessing to me, too, believe it or not. I was pretty lonely when he dropped into my life, and I feel like I've been able to better connect with my own son and his mother because of Lucky. Funny how life works sometimes, isn't it?"
Kevin smiled and nodded.