#curtains left open from the. night before. he wakes up slowly like val has seen him before bc despite what he likes to think lewis is Not a

[milflewis]

very important question. how does lewis deal with vals coffee breath? does he carry around a box of mints? gum? does he just endure it?...

oH hmm. lewis DOES chew a lot of gum now that i think about it. mb he makes valtteri eat mints (they played nine rounds of rock paper scissors over the issue and lewis won six so) and sometimes valtteri forgets them or decides to annoy lewis that day or mb just likes the little grimace nose wrinkle lewis does when he kisses valtteri and tastes coffee. it makes him laff n laff n laff which never not makes LEWIS laff and then they’re giggling !

[tails89]

Land Below the Waves Ch.12

I’ve been sitting on this for a while because… well… I’m not a doctor…I have no idea what I’m doing and this. was. hard. I apologise for what I’m sure are many, many medical inaccuracies.

Chapter One

Also posted here

 “Twenty-two year old male, unresponsive but breathing.” The paramedics kept pace with the gurney being pushed through the stark white hallway. “Open fracture to left tibia and third degree burns to the shin and foot.”

The gurney was brought to a stop next to one of the emergency room’s beds. Hands reached out from all around.

“On the count of three-“

In one smooth movement the man was transferred across to the larger bed and the buzz of activity started again.

“He’s on 100% oxygen for smoke inhalation and possible carbon monoxide poisoning.” The paramedic continued. “He was trapped for an unknown amount of time beneath a burning wall.”

The doctor on duty nodded as he listened to the paramedic’s assessment and began directing the others around him.

“I want a CBC, ABG, x-rays of his chest and of that leg.” Noting the dark bruise beginning to bloom beneath the floppy, brown fringe, the doctor took out his penlight. He raised one of the man’s eyelids and flickedg the light to watch the reaction of his pupils. “Possible concussion.”

There was a commotion from behind the curtains. The sound of marching feet echoed up the hallway.

“Sir, you can’t go back there just yet.”

“That’s my son in there!”

“And right now the doctor is working on him. You’ll only be in the way.”

“I need to see my son!” Stoick wrenched the curtains aside. “Oh Thor.” It was a broken whisper.

He watched on in horror as one of the nurses began cutting through Hiccup’s singed and sooty clothing. Another was drawing blood, checking blood pressure, attaching leads. This one tiny area of the emergency room was crammed with people, all moving about. Hiccup in contrast was completely still as the doctors tried to elicit some response from him.

Stoick had never seen his son so still. Even in sleep, as a child Hiccup had been a jumble of limbs, twisting and tangling in his sheets. This… this was not Hiccup. It couldn’t be.

Stoick’s gaze drifted upwards. His son’s body was covered in small cuts, grazes, burns. None as bad as the burn on his leg. His face was almost completely obscured by the mask blowing oxygen into his nose and mouth.

“Sir, you need to wait out here,” a small hand was placed over Stoick’s much larger arm and the man was guided outside to a seat. “You need to let them do their jobs.”

The doctor poked his head out of the cubicle to yell to another staff member. “Where’s my x-ray? And Madeleine, get on the phone to Westmead Hospital and the retrieval team.” He pulled the curtain closed behind him.

“Westmead? Retrieval team?” Stoick looked in askance to the nurse who had pulled him aside.

“Let me go see what’s going on,” she offered. “I’ll update you on his condition as soon as I know.”

She ducked into the cubicle and Stoick was left to sit in the cold, uncomfortable, plastic waiting room chair. . All he could do in that moment was watch.

Watch as more machinery was wheeled into the room. As X-rays were taken and discussed, though not with him. Watch as people darted in and out of the tiny cubicle that held his only child.

“I can’t lose him too Val.”

And he couldn’t just sit there and wait.

The large man stood, pacing his small corner of the hospital. Round and round. The little nurse who had promised to keep him updated had not returned. It had been over an hour! When was someone going to tell him what was happening to his son?

“Mr Haddock?”

Stoick paused in his pacing to look towards Hiccup’s cubicle.

“You’re Henry’s father?”

“Yes,” Stoick strode over to the shorter man. The doctor reached to shake his hand.

“I’m Dr West, one of the emergency doctors here.” He was holding a clipboard in his free hand. “Can we talk?”

“Yes, I need to know,” Stoick released the doctors hand. “How is he? Can I see him?”

Dr West nodded. “We’ll get you in to see him in a moment,” he promised. “First let me update you on the situation.”

The doctor was not a small man, but still he was dwarfed by Stoick’s towering build. He directed Stoick back to the chairs and gestured for the older man to take a seat.

“Right now we’re getting him ready to transfer to Westmead Hospital,” he explained. “We’re only a small regional hospital, we can’t properly deal with his injuries here.”

“And what are his injuries?” Stoick pressed the doctor for more information.

“Right now there are a number of things we’re concerned about.” Dr West lay his chart across his knees. “The most concerning are the third degree burns Henry has to his left shin, coupled with an open fracture – the bone has broken through the skin – the risk of infection is incredibly high. We’ve already started him on antibiotics, but he’ll need surgery as soon as he reaches the city.”

Stoick shifted in his seat. “Okay, so he’s got a broken leg, why hasn’t he woken up?”

“I’m afraid it’s more serious than a broken leg. A broken leg we can fix here, it’s the burn. We can’t do a thorough assessment here, but the tissue damage is severe. This means issues with circulation – blood isn’t getting to his foot, issues with sepsis if it’s not properly cleaned. Henry is going to need skin grafts at the very least.” The doctor took a breath. “As to his level of consciousness… it could be a combination of things. Smoke inhalation, concussion, shock all play a part.”

“Can I see him now?” Stoick was already rising from his seat, anxious to see his boy.

“Of course,” Dr West rose as well, leading the way to the closed curtains. He pulled them aside slowly, revealing Hiccup lying motionless on the bed. His clothes had been thrown away and a blanket had been placed over him, covering the unconscious boy to his chest.

There were numerous wires attached to his chest. On his left arm there was a blood pressure cuff and a little grey clip on his finger. The wires led up to a machine that displayed his heartrate, blood pressure and oxygen saturation.

Beside the machine was a tall silver pole with several bags hanging from it. Tubes connected to the IV bags and twisted down towards the bed where they disappeared underneath the skin of Hiccup’s right hand.

“I don’t understand, he was breathing when he came in.” Stoick rushed to Hiccup’s side. He took his son’s hand gingerly, wary of the cannulas taped to the skin, and took in the sight before him. There was a large bruise on Hiccup’s temple – the source of the concussion? It was hard to notice anything around the tube jutting from his mouth.

“It’s a precautionary measure.” Dr West was studying the numbers displayed on the monitor. He pressed a few buttons and turned back to the bed. “The results of his blood tests indicate he’s inhaled quite a bit of smoke. Treatment needs to be aggressive, in case his condition deteriorates, it could be hard to intubate later. Until he wakes, it’s important we maintain his airway.”

Stoick reached a hand to smooth back Hiccup’s hair. It felt greasy and gritty with dust from the collapsed wall he’d been pulled from.

“Okay, and what’s the next step?”

“The retrieval team should be here any minute.” Dr West scribbled some notes onto his clipboard and lay it on the bed. “Henry is stable enough to be moved, it’s about a forty-five minute flight to the city. Barring any complications, he should be in surgery in an hour.”

()

The next twelve-hours hours were rough.

Within minutes of landing on the helipad at Westmead Hospital Hiccup was in surgery. His leg was set and the burns to his leg was cleaned, dead skin and muscle was removed.

Afterwards, he had been moved to the Burns Unit to be monitored until he woke up.

It hadn’t happened yet. He’d shifted slightly at one point, letting out a breathy groan, but hadn’t surfaced completely.

Stoick’s back was aching from sitting in the too small, too hard chair. His body just wasn’t designed to contort like that. He was a big man.

Despite his discomfort, he hadn’t left Hiccup’s side since he had been wheeled from recovery and settled into his current room. There had been more testing, more X-rays and Stoick made sure he was present for it all. He wasn’t going anywhere.

It was late now.

The events of the morning seemed so long ago.

There was a soft knock on the door. Lucy, one of the senior nurses looking after Hiccup walked into the room.

“Evening Mr Haddock,” She walked around to the far side of the bed.

“I told you earlier lass, you can call me Stoick.” He sat up straighter in his chair and stretching out his weary muscles.

Lucy smiled and pulled on a pair of gloves.

“Well, Stoick,” she checked a couple of things and then injected something into Hiccup’s IV. “I’m about to head home and the night shift will be taking over.” Lucy deposited the syringe in the sharps container and reached for the thermometer on the bench by the bed. “You should think about getting some rest.” The thermometer beeped and she checked the number, recording it with a little frown.

“I’ll get some rest when I know my boy is going to be okay.” Stoick lay his hand where Hiccup’s leg was resting under the blankets.

Lucy packed up her things and removed her gloves.

“I figured you’d say that,” she told him. She paused by the door. “If you need anything, just let one of the nurses at the desk know.” She left the room.

Stoick settled back in his chair, trying to find something that resembled a comfortable position. The steady beeping of the heartrate monitor was reassuring, as was the sight of Hiccup breathing on his own. The ventilator had been replaced once more by a simple oxygen mask.

()

Stoick woke with a start. He didn’t remember falling asleep.

There was someone shuffling around the room. Working by the small light above the bed. They flinched when Stoick shifted in his seat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Stoick realised it was another nurse.

“Night time rounds,” she explained her presence as she checked Hiccup over. She reached for the thermometer. “Lucy noticed his temperature was up a little.” She placed the tip in Hiccup’s ear. “It’s not uncommon given everything he’s been through,” she continued her explanation. “And burns are susceptible to infection, I’m sure the doctor would have explained that.” The thermometer beeped.

“Ah, it is a little higher than we would like,” she made a note of it in the chart. “I need to take a look at his leg. He’s due to have the bandages changed soon, we’ll just do it a little early, make sure everything looks okay.”

The young nurse gathered up her supplies to rebandage the burn.

“You probably won’t want to watch this.” She lifted the blanket to uncover Hiccup’s legs. “It’s not a pretty sight.”

“I can handle it,” Stoick told her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The nurse pulled on her gloves and removed the bandages covering the wound. Stoick almost gagged at the sight. He looked away as the nurse redressed the burn.

Hiccup stirred. The process of removing the bandages looked painful. Stoick took his son’s hand and found himself hoping the boy would stay asleep through it.

“All done,” the nurse announced, pulling the blankets back over Hiccup’s feet.

“And it all looks… okay?” The mess of Hiccup’s leg did not look ‘okay’ to him, but he was a fisherman, not a medical professional.

“There are a few things I’d like to check over with the doctor. I’ll be back in a minute.” She disposed of the rubbish and bustled out of the room. She returned ten minutes later, with a doctor in tow.

“Mr Haddock, can you give us a minute here?” The doctor was not one Stoick had met yet, and he had met many in the last few hours. She was already pulling on her gloves as she addressed Hiccup’s father.

“I’d rather stay.” Stoick stood up from the chair to stand by the bed.

“It’ll only be a few minutes; you can wait outside. Give him a little privacy for this one.”

Stoick reluctantly agreed. As much as he hated to admit it, his kid was an adult and would probably prefer if there were some things his dad didn’t see.

“I’ll be right outside. Come and get me the minute you’re done.”

“We will,” the nurse promised as she lifted Hiccup’s blankets once more.

True to their words, a few minutes later the door to Hiccup’s room opened. Stoick was up and waiting just outside as the doctor emerged with the nurse.

“We might need to switch up his antibiotics. With the redness around the burn, the swollen lymph nodes, the fever, his leg is not looking good.”

They looked up and saw Stoick waiting expectantly.

“Let’s take a walk,” the doctor motioned for Stoick to follow her and the nurse peeled off to visit her other patients.

“What’s wrong?”

Stoick had to slow his pace to match the woman’s.

“His leg has become infected,” the doctor explained as they walked down the hall. “The damage is already significant and he has poor blood flow to his foot. If he doesn’t respond to the antibiotics more tissue could die. He’s going to need more surgery to save his leg.”

“Save his leg?” Stoick stopped in the middle of the hallway.

“It’s a lot to process right now,” the doctor acknowledged. “We’ll check on him through the night and reassess in the morning.”

With all this to think about Stoick returned to Hiccup’s room. The nurse from earlier bustled back into the room making the doctor’s requested changes and bustled out again.

Alone with his son, he resumed his position by the bed.

By morning Hiccup’s fever was spiking. He was sweaty and shaking and moaning in his sleep. His doctor had been by and he’d been scheduled for more surgery.

Stoick knew he was in for a long wait when his son was wheeled away again.

Hours passed with no news. He was forced to sit and wait and wonder if Hiccup was going to be alright. At some point Lucy had appeared again and pressed a sandwich into Stoick’s hands. She’d waited, coaxing him, until he took a bite. She’d reappeared later with a cup of tea.

Each time she appeared, just as Stoick thought he would lose his patience, and sat with him until she had to dart back off to work.

Finally, she was able to bring him some news.

“He’s out of surgery,” the matronly woman resumed her seat beside the worried father. “He’ll be in recovery for a bit before we get him settled back in his room.” She saw Stoick open his mouth and answered the question before it was asked. “I don’t know yet how it went. Henry’s doctor should be out here soon.”

The was the swish of sneakers against linoleum.

“And speak of the devil,” Lucy stood as the doctor entered. “I can stay if you want.”

Stoick shook his head. “No, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of work to do. Thank you.” He stood and turned to man dressed in scrubs and a lab coat. “Dr Greyson, tell me. How is Henry?”

“It was as we thought.” Dr Greyson gave a sympathetic sigh. “There was too much damage. Circulation was compromised. With the added complication of infection there wasn’t much we could do. I’m sorry. We couldn’t save his foot.”