They’d been in the clinic for approximately forty five seconds when Dee turned to Jay and whispered that he wanted to go home.
This wasn’t even a treatment session. It was merely a consultation, and yet, the young man was pale as a ghost and struggling to breathe through the beginnings of a panic attack. Jay gripped his hand tighter.
“Nothing’s going to happen. No one’s going to give you anything today, even if you wanted them to…” he insisted. “They’re just going to talk. Maybe take some blood to run genetic testing on.”
“I know… I know…” he gasped between empty breaths. He turned in the wheelchair, eyes squeezed shut to keep the tears from coming out. “I just… I can’t do it again, I can’t live like that… I…”
“Dee, sweetheart, it’s okay…” Jay whispered soothingly, gently wiping the fresh tears off his fiancé’s cheek. “Deep breaths. In… out…”
Dee had been a bundle of nerves for days, ever since he agreed to learn more about this new treatment. With everything that had happened to him, Jay was still astonished they’d made it this far. He honestly expected to be shut down before he had the chance to even finish the thought. But for the first time in his adult life, Dee was at least open to the possibility of maybe restarting some kind of treatment for his condition. Or at least seek an opinion. Jay wasn’t entirely sure what was going on inside his fiancé’s head - and a part of him was actually scared to ask - but he knew something had changed.
Maybe Dee had reached his limit.
The singer been getting steadily worse the entire time they’d known each other. But it was only in the last few months that Dee really started to struggle with day-to-day tasks. Just walking around their townhouse was a challenge. A trip to the market or even just the parking lot outside the market was like running a marathon. His legs had given out enough times that Jay finally went out and bought a wheelchair. Dee was reluctant at first. The fact that it wasn’t motorized probably helped. It gave the illusion that this was a temporary mobility aid, much like the plastic handicapped placard now hanging from Jay’s rearview mirror.
Or maybe, he was looking to buy some more time.
They’d recorded a demo, but so far, they hadn’t had much luck selling the Prophet to any labels. Breaking into the music business was a hard sell. Despite his obvious skill and infectious enthusiasm, nobody wanted to invest in an act that might not even be able to perform in a year or two. Finding a permanent band was just as hard, and for the same reason. Nobody wanted to back a crippled lead.
And, of course, there was their upcoming wedding, which was actually the reason Jay didn’t want to ask. Taking a vow of ‘until death do you part’ took on entirely new meaning when it was awkwardly imminent. While the thought of losing Dee was always in the back of his mind, the last thing he wanted was to make Dee feel, even the slightest bit, that he needed to start any kind of horrific treatment for his sake.
“No matter what they say… No matter what you decide to do - even if it’s absolutely nothing - I’ll still be right here by your side, okay?” He lifted Dee’s chin, and stared straight into those beautiful blue eyes. “I promise.”
Dee nodded, shakily, trying to breathe.
“I promise.” He repeated.
“…I love you.”
Dee squeaked as they called his name. Jay acknowledged the nurse, but as far as he was concerned, they could hold the door open for a minute longer. He hesitated, just holding his fiancé’s hand for a moment, making sure the other man felt as safe and secure as he possibly could.
“No matter what, we’re in this together, okay?” He whispered, pulling that hand to his lips and kissing it gently.
“Okay…”
The consultation that followed went both better and worse than either of them had expected.
The doctor, to his credit, reasoned that whatever regimen of anabolic and chemotherapy agents thrust upon Dee at the onset of his illness must have been unfathomably debilitating for it to trigger a PTSD-like episode right in his office. This kind of shell shock should be reserved for soldiers, not sick civilians. An old soldier himself, he couldn’t bring himself to criticize Dee for refusing treatment for so long after that.
But he also couldn’t afford to sugar coat the reality of where Dee was now. At 23, his muscles had deteriorated to the point that it wouldn’t be long until the rest of his body followed suit. His bones were starting to show signs of osteoporosis. His heart was getting weaker. He was dangerously underweight. The original prognosis he was given as a teenager was disturbingly accurate. By 25, he would definitely be bedridden, assuming he wasn’t already dead.
Dee was looking at a point of no return.
Fortunately, medicine had advanced quite a bit since he was first diagnosed. A whole new class of drugs brought to market within the last year had shown remarkable progress in slowing down, if not outright reversing, the debilitating effects of zero gravity on human muscles and bones. This wasn’t exactly the same, but it had already been used in clinical trials to treat several forms of muscular dystrophy, with very promising results. And rather than a daily onslaught of pills or injections, it was only given once a month, as an infusion.
“…But at what cost?” Dee gulped. As he said those words, he reached out anxiously for his partner’s hand. Everyone in the room knew he wasn’t talking about money. “…h..how bad is it? I… I can’t… I won’t do that again…
“Compared to high-dose steroids and chemotherapy agents, it’s like night and day.” The doctor reached out, sympathetically putting his hand on top of both of theirs. Dee looked up, eyes wide. “Even compared to the generation of biologics used just a few years ago, adverse effects are mild and short-lived. A headache from the increase in fluids is common. About ten percent of people in the trial experienced nausea or fatigue on the day of the infusion. Sometimes on the day after. But overall, the treatment is overwhelmingly well tolerated.”
The new drugs had a much wider therapeutic index. They weren’t nearly as immunosuppressive as older ones, so the risk of severe, life-threatening infections and opportunistic cancers was also drastically lower. Because they could be tailor made to someone’s genetic profile, the risk of allergic reactions was essentially zero.
“If this is something you’d like to consider, we need to run a few more tests to establish a good baseline. We’ll draw some blood today, send it off to the World Enterprises’ lab to get a customized formula made just for you…”
“And if you’re wrong? If I try it, and it IS bad… I… I could still stop, right?” Dee nervously looked between the doctor and his fiancé. “…You’d let me stop?”
Jay squeezed his hand gently. It broke his heart to hear Dee’s voice break like that. It seemed to break the doctor’s heart as well. Anyone else in Dee’s condition would be desperate for a miracle cure. Instead, the young man had been traumatized to the point of being firmly fixated on whether the treatment would still be worse than the disease - not as it was when he was diagnosed at 16 but as he was literally wasting away to nothing. That spoke volumes.
Jay pulled him close. “Of course. You can always stop. No one will ever take that decision away from you ever again.”
“Barring anything sudden or severe, I would recommend you stay the course for at least three months.” The doctor suggested as gently as possible. “We should be able to know by then how well you’re responding to the treatment. But we can… take it month by month after that… if that would help.”
“O..okay. I’ll try it.” When Dee finally consented, mountains could have moved. Jay held him, trying hard not to cry himself.
The doctor allowed the moment to breathe. He stayed respectfully quiet until his young patient finally started to relax, and his partner offered a relieved, yet reserved, smile from beside the chair.
“I’ll get a nurse in here to draw your blood and get you boys on your way. We should have the results from the labs in a couple of weeks, and once we have the formula, we’ll get you on the schedule for your first infusion.”
“O..okay…”
As the doctor left the room, Jay squeezed Dee’s hand again. “Do you want me to go with you when you have the infusion?”
“Please…” Dee begged.
“Then, I will.” He whispered. “I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”
Seeking an Expert Opinion (Ziggyverse AU)
This wasn’t even a treatment session. It was merely a consultation, and yet, the young man was pale as a ghost and struggling to breathe through the beginnings of a panic attack. Jay gripped his hand tighter.
“Nothing’s going to happen. No one’s going to give you anything today, even if you wanted them to…” he insisted. “They’re just going to talk. Maybe take some blood to run genetic testing on.”
“I know… I know…” he gasped between empty breaths. He turned in the wheelchair, eyes squeezed shut to keep the tears from coming out. “I just… I can’t do it again, I can’t live like that… I…”
“Dee, sweetheart, it’s okay…” Jay whispered soothingly, gently wiping the fresh tears off his fiancé’s cheek. “Deep breaths. In… out…”
Dee had been a bundle of nerves for days, ever since he agreed to learn more about this new treatment. With everything that had happened to him, Jay was still astonished they’d made it this far. He honestly expected to be shut down before he had the chance to even finish the thought. But for the first time in his adult life, Dee was at least open to the possibility of maybe restarting some kind of treatment for his condition. Or at least seek an opinion. Jay wasn’t entirely sure what was going on inside his fiancé’s head - and a part of him was actually scared to ask - but he knew something had changed.
Maybe Dee had reached his limit.
The singer been getting steadily worse the entire time they’d known each other. But it was only in the last few months that Dee really started to struggle with day-to-day tasks. Just walking around their townhouse was a challenge. A trip to the market or even just the parking lot outside the market was like running a marathon. His legs had given out enough times that Jay finally went out and bought a wheelchair. Dee was reluctant at first. The fact that it wasn’t motorized probably helped. It gave the illusion that this was a temporary mobility aid, much like the plastic handicapped placard now hanging from Jay’s rearview mirror.
Or maybe, he was looking to buy some more time.
They’d recorded a demo, but so far, they hadn’t had much luck selling the Prophet to any labels. Breaking into the music business was a hard sell. Despite his obvious skill and infectious enthusiasm, nobody wanted to invest in an act that might not even be able to perform in a year or two. Finding a permanent band was just as hard, and for the same reason. Nobody wanted to back a crippled lead.
And, of course, there was their upcoming wedding, which was actually the reason Jay didn’t want to ask. Taking a vow of ‘until death do you part’ took on entirely new meaning when it was awkwardly imminent. While the thought of losing Dee was always in the back of his mind, the last thing he wanted was to make Dee feel, even the slightest bit, that he needed to start any kind of horrific treatment for his sake.
“No matter what they say… No matter what you decide to do - even if it’s absolutely nothing - I’ll still be right here by your side, okay?” He lifted Dee’s chin, and stared straight into those beautiful blue eyes. “I promise.”
Dee nodded, shakily, trying to breathe.
“I promise.” He repeated.
“…I love you.”
Dee squeaked as they called his name. Jay acknowledged the nurse, but as far as he was concerned, they could hold the door open for a minute longer. He hesitated, just holding his fiancé’s hand for a moment, making sure the other man felt as safe and secure as he possibly could.
“No matter what, we’re in this together, okay?” He whispered, pulling that hand to his lips and kissing it gently.
“Okay…”
The consultation that followed went both better and worse than either of them had expected.
The doctor, to his credit, reasoned that whatever regimen of anabolic and chemotherapy agents thrust upon Dee at the onset of his illness must have been unfathomably debilitating for it to trigger a PTSD-like episode right in his office. This kind of shell shock should be reserved for soldiers, not sick civilians. An old soldier himself, he couldn’t bring himself to criticize Dee for refusing treatment for so long after that.
But he also couldn’t afford to sugar coat the reality of where Dee was now. At 23, his muscles had deteriorated to the point that it wouldn’t be long until the rest of his body followed suit. His bones were starting to show signs of osteoporosis. His heart was getting weaker. He was dangerously underweight. The original prognosis he was given as a teenager was disturbingly accurate. By 25, he would definitely be bedridden, assuming he wasn’t already dead.
Dee was looking at a point of no return.
Fortunately, medicine had advanced quite a bit since he was first diagnosed. A whole new class of drugs brought to market within the last year had shown remarkable progress in slowing down, if not outright reversing, the debilitating effects of zero gravity on human muscles and bones. This wasn’t exactly the same, but it had already been used in clinical trials to treat several forms of muscular dystrophy, with very promising results. And rather than a daily onslaught of pills or injections, it was only given once a month, as an infusion.
“…But at what cost?” Dee gulped. As he said those words, he reached out anxiously for his partner’s hand. Everyone in the room knew he wasn’t talking about money. “…h..how bad is it? I… I can’t… I won’t do that again…
“Compared to high-dose steroids and chemotherapy agents, it’s like night and day.” The doctor reached out, sympathetically putting his hand on top of both of theirs. Dee looked up, eyes wide. “Even compared to the generation of biologics used just a few years ago, adverse effects are mild and short-lived. A headache from the increase in fluids is common. About ten percent of people in the trial experienced nausea or fatigue on the day of the infusion. Sometimes on the day after. But overall, the treatment is overwhelmingly well tolerated.”
The new drugs had a much wider therapeutic index. They weren’t nearly as immunosuppressive as older ones, so the risk of severe, life-threatening infections and opportunistic cancers was also drastically lower. Because they could be tailor made to someone’s genetic profile, the risk of allergic reactions was essentially zero.
“If this is something you’d like to consider, we need to run a few more tests to establish a good baseline. We’ll draw some blood today, send it off to the World Enterprises’ lab to get a customized formula made just for you…”
“And if you’re wrong? If I try it, and it IS bad… I… I could still stop, right?” Dee nervously looked between the doctor and his fiancé. “…You’d let me stop?”
Jay squeezed his hand gently. It broke his heart to hear Dee’s voice break like that. It seemed to break the doctor’s heart as well. Anyone else in Dee’s condition would be desperate for a miracle cure. Instead, the young man had been traumatized to the point of being firmly fixated on whether the treatment would still be worse than the disease - not as it was when he was diagnosed at 16 but as he was literally wasting away to nothing. That spoke volumes.
Jay pulled him close. “Of course. You can always stop. No one will ever take that decision away from you ever again.”
“Barring anything sudden or severe, I would recommend you stay the course for at least three months.” The doctor suggested as gently as possible. “We should be able to know by then how well you’re responding to the treatment. But we can… take it month by month after that… if that would help.”
“O..okay. I’ll try it.” When Dee finally consented, mountains could have moved. Jay held him, trying hard not to cry himself.
The doctor allowed the moment to breathe. He stayed respectfully quiet until his young patient finally started to relax, and his partner offered a relieved, yet reserved, smile from beside the chair.
“I’ll get a nurse in here to draw your blood and get you boys on your way. We should have the results from the labs in a couple of weeks, and once we have the formula, we’ll get you on the schedule for your first infusion.”
“O..okay…”
As the doctor left the room, Jay squeezed Dee’s hand again. “Do you want me to go with you when you have the infusion?”
“Please…” Dee begged.
“Then, I will.” He whispered. “I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”
“…I love you.”
“I love you too.”