It was all Hutch could do not to race down the hallway after the bed carrying his partner. He couldn't believe it. He had seemed so much better. What the hell happened?
One of the nurses, who had stayed behind, came over and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Det. Hutchinson, come with me. I'll take you up to the surgical waiting room. As soon as they get his airway open and his breathing back on track, someone will want to talk to you."
Hutch followed the woman blindly. All he could think of was the look on his partner's face. He had never seen such abject terror in his life. To not be able to breathe, to feel his life ebbing away. He couldn't stand to think of what his friend had been going through in those last few minutes. Going up in the elevator to the surgical wing, he almost fainted. If it hadn't been for the strong arm of the nurse, he would have hit the floor. That's when he realized that he hadn't been breathing either.
"Det. Hutchinson, are you all right?" The nurse asked.
"I will be when I know my partner's okay." He pulled himself out of her grasp, but with a small smile for her kindness. "What the hell happened?" He demanded.
"I don't know, but it looks almost like anaphylactic shock. Does he have any allergies?"
"Not that I'm aware of. He's never mentioned anything and I'd have to know something like that to protect both of us."
"Well, it might not have been that. Might have been from the fever. We should know something soon. A tracheotomy doesn't take very long, if that's what they have to do. And he was still conscious when they took him up which is a good sign. He shouldn't suffer any brain damage."
"Brain damage! My God. Are you saying he might suffer brain damage?" Hutch was moving from merely frightened to terrified. What would he do if his partner suffered brain damage? Let alone the unthinkable possibility that they wouldn't get him breathing iat all.
"No, no. I'm sure that that is a very remote possibility." She hastened to assure him. "As I said he was still conscious and it takes a few minutes before brain damage sets in. If necessary, they'd do the trach on the elevator." Seeing that nothing she said was making her ward any calmer, she steered him towards the waiting area and beat a hasty retreat.
Once again Hutch was back to pacing a waiting room floor and trying not to consider the worst.
******
He started to drift in and out, still struggling to breathe. It was becoming harder and harder to concentrate on that with each passing second. He felt as if his chest was about to explode with the pain of the straining lungs and the fear. Suddenly something seemed to break free and he took a ragged breath. God it felt good. He tried another, then another and found that he could breath although they were shallow. He heard the doctor give orders to redirect him to ICU and the tension in the elevator seemed to evaporate.
He heard the doctor's voice saying his name. "Det, Starsky, can you hear me? If you can squeeze my hand." He felt a warm hand grasp his and moved his a little in response. "Good, now the crisis seems to be over. We going to take you to the Intensive Care Unit and hook you up to a heart monitor as well as permanent oxygen source. This should help your breathing. Once we figure out why you had this problem we'll know how to prevent it again. Okay?"
He opened his eyes a little and tried to focus on the doctor's face. Unable to talk because of the oxygen mask he simply nodded. He started to drift off then when a thought struck him. Forcing himself awake, he managed to grab for the doctor's hand and when he saw that he had his attention, he tried to lift the oxygen mask from his face. The doctor stopped his hand and held the mask firmly in place. He struggled a little and the doctor finally relented and pulled the mask away.
"Make it fast, Sergeant, this mask has to stay on." The doctor commanded.
"Hutch, tell Hutch." He managed to get out soundlessly.
"Yes, I'll be sure that your partner knows you're okay. Now rest." The doctor placed the mask back on his face.
He was finally able to sleep.
********
Hutch had covered the waiting room floor dozens of times, when the doctor finally came to talk to him. Looking up in fear, the detective was relieved to see a smile on Dr. Padgett's face.
"How is he, how's my partner?" He demanded before the doctor had a chance to say a word.
"He's fine, or as fine as one can expect under the circumstances. He started breathing on his own; we didn't have to do surgery. His temperature, unfortunately spiked, but we'll get that under control." Dr. Padgett reassured the agitated officer.
"What the hell happened? Why did he stop breathing?" Hutch demanded.
"From what we've been able to determine by the tests and the absence of any other indications is that your friend suffered a severe allergic reaction to the antibiotic. Has he ever had problems with penicillin before? Or has he been given massive doses recently?"
"He's never had an allergic reaction to anything before that I'm aware of but he was on antibiotics for quite a while earlier this year when he was shot. That should be in his medical files. He was brought here." Hutch replied. "When can I see him?"
"We usually don't allow visitors in ICU this time of day, but under the circumstances I think it would be for the best if you stayed with him for a while. I'll take you up." Hutch followed the doctor to the elevator. The doctor continued instructing Hutch as they proceeded to the ICU. "He's going to be rather out of it. We've given him some medication to help keep this from happening again and with the energy he expended during this episode; he's probably not going to be very alert. He's also on oxygen and several monitors so don't be alarmed. It's simply procedure."
With that he ushered Hutch into the ICU cubicle that continued his partner. Starsky, again, lay quietly hooked up to all kinds of machines. Wires were everywhere. But underneath all the hardware was the living, breathing body of his friend. Hutch quietly approached the bed but something alerted Starsky that he was there.
The patient opened his eyes and tried to focus on his friend's face. A little smile flickered and a hand reached for his. "Hutch." he whispered.
"It's okay, Starsk. I'm right here. Now you sleep. You'll need your strength to chase those cute nurses I saw out there." He teased gently.
Starsky just sighed and went back to sleep.
Hutch pulled up a chair, never letting loose of Starsky's hand. His second vigil had begun.
******
Starsky steadily improved over the next few days. His temperature, which had spiked at 106F, slowly reduced to a more acceptable 100F. The doctor wasn't too worried about this level, as fever was the body's natural way of killing an infection. With the IV fluids along with the other medication they gave him, he was less dehydrated and they had no repeat of the allergic reaction scare of the first day. Starsky slept for most of the first two days, only waking when someone came to draw blood or the nurses came in.
Hutch stayed with him as much as the ICU staff would allow leaving voluntarily only when the nurses came to tend to his slumbering partner. He figured that they would be doing things that both of them would rather he not see. They chased him out in the evening, insisting that he would be of no use to anyone, least of all his friend, if he got sick also.
******
When he arrived at Starsky's cubicle, the morning of the second day, he was surprised and pleased to find his captain there. Dobey was sitting in the chair, just watching Starsky sleep. He looked up when he heard Hutch arrive. Placing a finger across his lips, he motioned to Hutch to go with him outside the cubicle.
"How you holding up, Hutchinson?" Dobey asked.
"Fine, Captain. I'm a little surprised to see you here. What's up?"
"I wanted to see for myself how Starsky was doing and to talk to his doctor. He tells me that Starsky's a pretty sick boy. Dr. Padgett said that he's going to have to stay in hospital for at least another week and won't be able to work for at least a month. Now I know that you will want to be with him as much as possible, but there's no way I can do without both of you for that long."
"But, Captain.."
"I know, I know, but it can't be helped. We're already shorthanded enough without both of you off. Now I'm not going to put you out on the street alone. And as there's no one I have available to partner you with, I'm going to assign you to desk duty. You can fit that around Starsky's needs. When he's up to coming back to work you'll probably both be on desk duty for a while. The doctor tells me that he's going to be weak for a couple of months. And he won't be in any shape to be running around on the streets. And I don't want to hear any arguments. That's the best I can do under the circumstances."
Hutch considered his options. He knew that Dobey was being very generous with allowing him to work his duties around Starsky and there was no way he wanted to partner with anyone else. It was the best deal he was going to get. "Okay, Captain. Can I stay with him until he's out of the woods, through? We had a real scare yesterday and I don't think I could get much done worrying about him."
"Fine, I'll put you down on sick leave for the next couple of days, but no longer. Dr. Padgett says he should be over the worst by tomorrow. It's Tuesday now, I'll give you till Friday. How's that?" Accepting Hutch's nod as agreement, the captain turned to leave. Then stopped and turned back. Grasping Hutch's shoulder, he smiled at his worried looking detective. "He'll be fine, Hutch. Starsky's a fighter. He won't let a little bug get the best of him. You watch, in a week you're going to have to sit on him to make him stay off work." With that the Captain took one last glance at the sleeping Starsky and went on his way.
Hutch watched his captain walk away. Sometimes he was amazed at how good a man Dobey really was. He went in and set down with his partner. A while later Dr. Padgett came around with a group of Interns. Nodding at Hutch, he proceeded to describe Starsky's condition, the symptoms and the allergic reaction he had suffered. Hearing the doctor's voice, Starsky woke, but was still hazy. When asked if the group could look at the rash on his stomach, he had the energy to look embarrassed but agreed. The Interns oohed and aahed over the red rash, and Starsky glared at them but didn't say a word. Dr. Padgett covered Starsky back up and patted him on his arm. Turning to Hutch, he smiled and then he led his followers off to look at the next interesting case.
Starsky looked over at his partner, who was trying his best not to grin at his friend's embarrassment. "Hi, Hutch." His voice was still barely a whisper but he was starting to look a little more alert. He reached a hand towards the blonde.
"How you feeling partner? Can I get you anything?" Hutch grasped the hand. It didn't seem so hot nor so thin and dry as it had just the day before.
"I'm really thirsty. Do you think they'd let me have some ginger ale?" The weak voice was plaintive.
"I'll see what I can do. Don't talk so much, it can't be good for your throat." Hutch went off in search of a nurse. Pleased that her patient was feeling like drinking anything, the pretty dark-haired nurse agreed with Starsky's request. She promised to bring the ginger ale immediately. Hutch returned to his friend's side, glad to see the more alert response he received.
"The nurse will be here in a minute with your soda. Don't try to talk. I brought a book that I thought you'd like. Do you want me to read to you for awhile?" Starsky nodded. Hutch pulled the paperback out of his jacket pocket and commenced reading. It was an old favourite of Hutch's; 'To Kill a Mockingbird' that he figured Starsky would enjoy. There was enough action to keep his attention, would appeal to his ethical side but soothing enough not to agitate. He had only got through the first page when the nurse arrived with Starsky's ginger ale. The nurse, whose nametag read 'Jeannie', had brought the drink in a small cup with a straw so that Starsky wouldn't have to sit up to drink it. She adjusted his bed a little so that his head was higher and held the cup for him. Starsky was able to get a couple of sips down before having to give up because of the pain.
"I know it hurts Mr. Starsky, but you'll have to take liquids by mouth if you want to get better faster." Jeannie patted him on the arm in empathy.
"It hurts my throat. And it doesn't taste like anything." He complained in that same, almost soundless voice.
"I can well imagine it hurts. Your throat will be very sore for a couple of weeks and you can't taste it because your tongue is burnt from the fever. I'm afraid eating is not going to be any fun for a while."
Starsky looked at Hutch for sympathy. Eating was one of his favorite pastimes and to not be able to enjoy it was almost as painful as his sore throat. Hutch tried to be sympathetic but the look on his partner's face made him laugh. "It's okay, Starsk, you wanted to take off a few pounds anyway didn't you?" Starsky managed to look disgusted and turned back to the nurse and managed a few more swallows of the offered soda. The few minutes of activity had used up his small reserve of energy and he fell asleep again. But before he fell asleep he had reached for Hutch's hand again and there was a slight smile on his face as he drifted off.
And so it went for the rest of Starsky's stay in the hospital. He slept, tried to get liquids past his sore throat and burnt tongue, listened to Hutch read and grew better. When he finally was feeling well enough to flirt with the nurses and start to insist on going home, Hutch knew his friend was going to be all right. One week from the day he almost lost him, Hutch was allowed to take his partner home.
************
The next few weeks of Starsky's recovery were hell on him and he made it hell for everyone else. He hurt everywhere. The fever had made his skin feel like he had been sunburnt. Even the slightest movement brought discomfort if not actual pain. He didn't want anyone to touch him. Sometimes it even hurt when people just walked by or talked too loud. He shushed everyone so much that whenever anyone was around they walked on tiptoes and spoke in whispers. For the first while after he was home friends came to sit with him, but slowly they all gave up dealing with his grumpiness until only Hutch was left.
He couldn't stand the feel of his old stand-by sweatpants and shirt on his skin, they were too scratchy. Hutch had finally found an old pair of flannel pajamas, washed to buttery softness stuffed in the back of his closet. They were the only things that didn't aggravate his skin.
He was still tired but was getting restless from all of the inactivity. He was beginning to feel well enough to be bored but not well enough to do anything about it. His eyes still hurt too much to read and he wanted the curtains closed and the lights off. Even TV was too much. The light hurt his eyes, the sound hurt his ears and trying to follow even a game show hurt his brain.
Although the worst of the sore throat and headache was gone, he still couldn't taste anything and textures were too rough for his tongue. And maybe that hurt most of all.
At night he dreamt of food. Especially things that he hadn't had in years. Like his mom's pot roast, swimming in gravy and surrounded by roasted vegetables. His mom's homemade bread. The chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies she'd make him and his brother for their school lunches. He even dreamt about food that he didn't particularly like but would have given anything to be able to eat now. Hutch's vegetable-tofu lasagna even made an appearance. That one scared him. He thought for a moment that the fever had returned.
Hutch tried to help. He wasn't allowed to drink any dairy products for the time being, so his friend was limited in what he could fix in liquid form for him. The blonde's health drinks didn't go over well. Although he couldn't taste them, the colour, smell and texture made him gag. He wandered into the kitchen one morning to find Hutch pouring over 'Diet for a Small Planet' trying to find something he could fix for his patient. He saw the word 'tofu' and quickly snatched the book away.
"Look, pal, don't try to feed me anymore of this stuff. I need real food. Meat, potatoes, tacos for God's sake! Please don't make me suffer with tofu! Are you trying to kill me?" His voice coming out in a thin squeak. He knew he was being unfair but right then he didn't care. He was hungry. "I think it's time you called in some help. Couldn't you call my mom or your mom or…. Wait I know! Call Edith Dobey. She's a mom, surely she'd know what to feed me." Happy with this idea, he practically dragged Hutch to the phone. Exhausted by effort, he sank onto the couch and watched intently as Hutch placed the call.
"Uh, hi Edith, this is Hutch. Umm… I …. I mean, we, have a favour to ask. You know that Starsky's still pretty sick and he can't eat real food yet because of his throat? Well, he doesn't like any of the things I'm making for him and we were wondering if you could help?" He listened for a few minutes, a look of relief flashed across his face. "That's great, we'll expect you in a little while."
"She was just waiting to be asked." Hutch said happily. "She's coming right over with some stuff she had all made up." The two men smiled at each other. Taking a closer look at his partner, he noticed how pale he was. "You know, Starsk, you're not looking so good. I think you've been up too long. Why don't you go back to bed for a while and when you wake up, Edith will have something nice for you to eat." It didn't take much coaxing to get the tired man to go, although he grumbled the whole way.
Making sure his patient was comfortable (not an easy feat, done with much complaining, fluffing of pillows and rearranging of blankets) Hutch set on the bed beside him and just looked at him for a minute. Finally, Starsky couldn't take the suspense and said, annoyed "What?"
Hutch shook himself and smiled. "Sorry, pal, I was just thinking that I really need to go into work today. I need to track down a lead in one of the cases Dobey has me working on and I should make some phone calls and such. I'm just wondering if I could leave you alone for awhile? Maybe when Edith gets here would be a good time to go. She'd feed you, and then you could sleep until this evening when I get off duty. Think you'd be okay?"
"For Pete's sake, Hutch! I'm not a little kid. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself for a few hours. I'll sleep or go into the living room and watch tv or something. It's no big deal. If I stub my big toe or something I'll call for help. Okay?!" A sick Starsky was not a pleasant Starsky.
Hutch sighed. As much as he loved his friend, there were times when he didn't like him much. This was unfortunately one of those times. He knew that once Starsky was feeling better he'd be sorry for being so nasty but it didn't help now. "Oh, just go to sleep, I'll wait till Edith gets here then I'll go to work. Just try to stay out of trouble and don't pick on Edith either. She's probably the only person besides me who'll come within a mile of you about now." With that he left the sullen patient to his nap, just barely catching the door before it slammed shut.
If Starsky had been feeling even a little bit better, he would have felt bad for snarling at his partner that way, but he was feeling too so for himself. He was tired, he was hungry, he was itchy, he hurt everywhere and he was tired of being sick. He turned over in the bed, back to the door and sulked. If his best friend wanted to be like that, he could just go fly a kite. Thinking dark and nasty thoughts he drifted off to sleep.
******
In the days that followed, Hutch came to view Edith Dobey as a Godsend. Starsky simply saw her as an Angel of Mercy.
The lady brought order, peace and something approaching harmony into their lives. She would arrive each morning as soon as her kids were off to school. Because Hutch was not the world's best housekeeper, she took over cleaning Starsky's apartment. She made the invalid rich, nutritious soups that, even through at first he could not taste them, the enticing aroma encouraged him to eat. As he steadily got better under her expert care she slowly started to introduce more hearty meals with textures that his tender mouth could tolerate. Slowly he started to regain the weight he had lost, colour returned to his pale cheeks and eventually the humour to his outlook. She cajoled, prodded and nagged him into taking an interest in things outside of himself and in life again.
Edith would bring Rosie over after school to play with Starsky. The two of them would cuddle up together on the couch and watch cartoons. Sometimes Rosie would tell him a story from one of her picturebooks, usually far more entertaining than the author's original story. They would play Old Maid or Crazy Eights. And sometimes Edith would find the two of them just napping having played themselves out. Of all the things that Edith had done for him perhaps the loan of her daughter was the best medicine. There was no way that Starsky would take his foul mood out on the little girl and she made him laugh.
One day Hutch came in early from work to find an impromptu tea party under way at the kitchen table. Rosie was playing 'Mother' and was pouring pretend tea into the waiting cup held by a somewhat altered Starsky. On his head was a large brimmed hat adorned with flowers and around his t-shirt-clad shoulders there was a bright pink shawl. The curly haired man was holding his teacup with his pinky finger extended and was speaking in a rather squeaky high pitched falsetto. So engrossed were the two in their game that they hadn't noticed their audience. Hutch watched in amazement for a few minutes trying not to break into uncontrolled laughter at the sight of his friend in such an undignified display. What finally broke him was when Starsky turned to the teddy bear sitting beside him and asked it if would like a cookie. Snorting with barely restrained laughter he leaned against the wall. Both of the live tea drinkers looked up startled. Starsky looked embarrassed for all of one minute then a mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes.
"Oh look, Rosie dear," he said in that same high-pitched voice. "Miss
Hutchinson has come to join us for tea. Do come and sit
down, dearie, we have lots. Cookie?" Holding out the plate of fresh,
homemade cookies to his snickering friend, he smiled
evilly. Rosie jumped up and grabbed Hutch's hand and dragged him over
to the table. She pulled out a chair for him and made
him sit down. Then going to a big bag laying in a corner of the kitchen
she pulled out yet another hat, this one a small black
cloche with a bow and handed to the blonde man. Diving back into her
bag she brought out a wildly flowered scarf and draped
it around his neck. She stood, frowning, tapping her foot until Hutch
hesitantly put the hat on his head. Smiling she settled back
down in her chair and poured 'Miss Hutchinson' some tea.
Hutch looked over at his grinning partner and hissed "One word, Starsky, just one word.." The implied threat was met with that killer smile, the first he'd seen in way too long Rosie ignored this little by-play and continued to chatter away at the men and the teddy bear. Giving in to the inevitable, Hutch began to enjoy the game. He hadn't done this kind of thing since his sister was small and he became too 'mature' to play girls' games.
They continued the tea party until Edith came in. She had been doing Starsky's laundry and had left her daughter in her patient's care (or was it the other way around?). Observing the little domestic scene, she smiled fondly. She held the two men in a special place in her heart and was pleased to see them laughing and having fun. Starsky's illness and lengthy recovery had been hard on both of them. Playing like this proved that their friendship was as solid as ever.
Hating to break up the party she cleared her throat. "Sorry ladies, but Rosie has to go home now. Harold and Cal will be wanting their dinner." She smiled at the blushing Hutch and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Ken, I won't breathe a word of this to my husband." He looked at her gratefully and divested himself of the hat and scarf, handing them over to Rosie. Starsky also took off his finery and Rosie packed it all away into her bag. Gathering up her teddy bear she gave Hutch a quick kiss on the cheek and turned to Starsky.
"Thanks for playing with me, Uncle Dave. I had fun." With that she gave him a big hug and a kiss. "See you tomorrow?"
"I don't know sweetheart. I have an appointment with the doctor tomorrow and I'm hoping he'll tell me I can go back to work. I think I'm well enough now to take care of myself." Looking up at Edith he smiled. "I can't thank you enough for all that you've done for me. I think if I'd have had one more of Hutch's concoctions, I would have given up eating all together."
Hutch threw a mock punch at his arm. Rising from his chair, the blonde detective gave Edith a hug. "I too can't thank you enough. If it hadn't been for you coming every day I may have ended up leaving the country. If there's every anything that we can do for you, don't hesitate to ask. We owe you big time."
The woman smiled at the two men. "It was my pleasure. And I was happy to do it. Actually it was for rather selfish reasons on my part that I wanted to see Dave up and around. Harold was grumping and complaining about not having his two best detectives available and the way he was going on I was afraid I'd have to leave the country." She laughed. Quickly collecting her daughter and her dress-up bag, the two left amidst waves and another round of hugs from Rosie.
Starsky started to put away the tea things and to set the table for dinner. Edith had left a casserole in the oven, which was bubbling nicely. Hutch, watching his friend putter around in the kitchen, took in his much healthy appearance. The dark haired man was still thinner than before the illness but his colour was good and he moved with more of his old grace. He still had some soreness in the large joints in his arms and legs but not as bad as even a week ago. Hutch knew that his eyes didn't hurt anymore and his concentration had returned. His voice was still a little rough but it was coming. The two of them had been going for walks and light work outs at the gym. Starsky's stamina was improving and after a couple weeks on desk duty he'd be ready to hit the streets. All of which made Hutch very happy. He'd missed his partner.
That partner glanced over at his blond friend and noticed the close way he was being observed. "What?'
"Nothing, just thinking how good it will be to get back to normal. I've missed you, partner."
Starsky knew exactly what Hutch meant. Going to his friend he gave him
a quick hug. "I've missed you too, partner. … Now,
let's eat!"
THE END
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Just a quick note on 'Fever'. I decided to end the story
with Starsky feeling ready to go back to work.
Didn't want to put him through all the other stuff that happens after
an illness like this. The hair loss, the peeling skin, the
finger/toenails splitting off below the quick, the memory loss or any
number of other fun things that occured on and off for a
year after I was sick. (can you imagine poor Starsky losing his beautiful
hair:O) Also to assure those of you who might have
been worring about the allergic reaction part. I don't remember the
actual incident (I think I was unconscience for most of it)
except for one brief moment on the elevator when I heard the doctor
say 'trach' and knew what it meant. The rest is a blur.
Although I do now have to avoid all penicillens and molds.
Also, the young ICU nurse mentioned, is based on the angel who was my
assigned day nurse. I wish I could remember her
name as she was wonderful.