A series by November

Chapter 75: Fear

Twenty minutes later they were in the ER. A perpetually screaming baby was grating on Logan’s nerves. There was too much light and too many people. Rogue was told to fill out forms and she did. Logan felt useless.

An hour later the sun was up and Maggie was in a bed with an IV in her arm. They had taken blood. She hadn’t seen a doctor yet. Logan was pacing. He eyed his environs like a caged animal, registering every person, every medical implement.

“Sugar, I’m hungry, could you go get us some breakfast?” Marie said. In reality, she was queasy, had felt queasy for the last few days, but she knew he was having vivid flashbacks he wouldn’t admit to having.

“Sure, what do you want?” His relief was palpable.

“French toast and eggs if they have any. And coffee, one cream and two sugars.” The mere thought of it made her want to throw up but she didn’t let on.

“Got it. Be back soon.” He pecked her cheek and she traced a cool finger over his eyebrow. Then he was gone.

Just after Logan left a doctor came into the room. He was graying at the temples and very tall. His lab coat was immaculate.

“Mrs. Christensen?”

“Yeah.”

“Andy Rogers. I spoke with Jean Grey about your daughter.”

“Oh. You know Jean?“

“Jean and I go way back.”

“Oh. Good.” Rogue shook his hand. “She said she suspects meningitis.”

“And she’s right to. Although that’s not the only possibility.” He sheathed a thermometer stick and put it in Maggie’s mouth. “Under the tongue, darling.” He looked down at his clipboard. “Her blood counts suggest that the infection is bacterial.”

“Oh god.” Rogue knew that the bacterial kind of meningitis was the worst.

“Well don’t panic. We need to do a lumbar puncture to see what’s going on. And we’ll start an IV antibiotic as soon as we get it from the pharmacy.”

“How long will it take?”

“Will what take?” He was palpating Maggie’s belly with his fingers.

“Until you can do the puncture. If my husband sees that he’s gonna go ballistic.”

“We can do it right now.”

“Good. I sent him out for food.”

Maggie was lethargic and Rogue helped get her into a fetal position so they could do the lumbar puncture. She was now shivering which didn’t help matters. Rogue sat in front of her and whispered soothing words, while Dr. Rogers injected a local anesthetic into her back. Luckily, he hit the right spot on the first try and by the time Logan returned with steaming breakfast Dr. Rogers was labeling the CSF specimens in their tiny vials.

“How is she?”

“The same. Dr. Rogers here is a friend of Jean’s.”

“Good.”

Rogers removed his gloves and neatly tossed them into a red trash can. “Andy Rogers. Good to meet you.”

Logan shook his hand and only nodded. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“I hope so. We need to run more tests.”

He left and Logan handed Rogue her breakfast. She took one look at it and ran into the bathroom. He heard her retch and then he set his own food aside.

He brought her some water and she rinsed. “Don’t tell me you’re sick too.”

“I just haven’t felt well for a few days.”

“Maybe you should get checked out since we’re here.” He didn’t feel so well himself. He had awakened with a sore throat. Every four years or so he got a cold, just like everyone else. It was rare but not unheard of.

She shook her head. “This is for emergencies. I’ll just follow up with Jean.”

A nurse came in and was affixing something to Maggie’s IV stand. “What’s that,” Logan asked warily.

“Antibiotic.”

Just before noon Maggie was admitted to a bed upstairs. Rogue had thrown up two more times. Logan had become increasingly agitated. Being in a private, quiet room helped. Maggie floated in and out of lucidity. Marie hovered over her, checking her pulse from time to time. Her temp came down to a manageable 100.1, then spiked up higher. They sandwiched her between two cooling pads.

Lunch was delivered and Rogue tried to get Maggie to pick at it. She ate a few bites of applesauce and half a cracker then drifted off back to a feverish sleep.

Shortly afterward, a new doctor entered the room and introduced herself as Dr. Varma. She was a beautiful plump woman with dusky skin and a Sponge Bob pin and a red bindi.

“Did the CSF results come back yet?” Marie said.

“Yes. It was cloudy and we’re culturing it to find out exactly which kind of bacteria there is.”

“How long will that take?”

“Till tomorrow.” She went through the vital signs on the bedside chart, then put it back and sat down opposite Marie and Logan.

“We were able to confirm diagnosis of bacterial meningitis,” she said. “My understanding is that you got her early so that is good.”

“In English, please,” Logan said.

“I’m sorry. It means that the tissues that line the brain and spinal cord are infected with some kind of bacteria. That is what is causing her fever. We treat it with antibiotics and it should go away in a few days. Meanwhile we need to keep her fever down. So far it has worked with the cooling pad and Tylenol but over the last hour it seems to be spiking. It isn’t unusual, but it could become dangerous.”

“So we just have to wait it out?” Logan said, muscles in his jaw tense.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“What’s the prognosis,” Rogue asked.

“If we can keep her fever down, good. There is a fair chance of complications though. Sometimes the inflamation causes swelling of the brain and that can cause problems.” Sometimes the fever causes seizures, sometimes difficulty breathing. We’re going to closely monitor the amount of oxygen in her blood and if it goes down, we’ll put her on oxygen. I’ll have to warn you, sometimes there are long-term effects like brain damage.“

Marie put her head in her hands, trying to get her breath.

“Are you sure it’s what you think it is?” Logan asked. “We’re all sick today, Marie’s thrown up three times and I’ve got a cold - could we all be sick from the same thing?”

“I doubt it. Your cold is probably just that, a cold, and your wife could be throwing up from nerves.”

“I’ve been nauseated for a few days.”

“Vomiting, or nauseated?” She pronounced it “womiting.”

“Just queasy, until today.”

“Have you three traveled anywhere recently?”

“Just Aruba, but that was just us two. And that was in August.”

“I still think these things are probably isolated. Sir, you should drink lots of fluids and get rest. Ma’am, you should try to keep down clear fluids and if you can’t, go to the ER. I’ll see if I can’t get a cot in here for you.”

Logan insisted that Marie take the first break to go home for a nap and shower and supplies. She was sicker than he, and she had no healing factor. He was surprised that she didn’t argue. She left around one and was able to sleep for four hours. She felt marginally better afterward better still after a shower. She packed a bag of things for Maggie and for them.

When she returned that evening, Scott, Jean, and Xavier were visiting. They had brought flowers and balloons for Maggie.

“Hey,” Rogue glanced at Maggie and at Logan. “How’s she doing?”

“The same.” Maggie’s eyes fluttered open and Rogue kissed her forehead. “Momma.”

“Yeah baby, I’m here.”

“Make the Teletubbies go away.”

“Huh? Where are the Teletubbies?”

“Nowhere.”

Marie looked at all of them, amused and mildly horrified.

“How are you feelin’, Marie?”

“Better. Much better. Thank god.”

“Are you sick too?” Jean said, putting her hand on Rogue’s forehead.

“We’re all sick. I feel much better though.”

“Are you two having symptoms like Maggie?”

“No, I was puking and Logan has a cold.”

“You get colds?”

“Every few years.”

They stayed just a little longer. “Why don’t you go back with them, sug? I made a casserole and it’s waiting for you at home.”

“I’ll stay a while with you,” he said.

“Don’t worry about your classes, Logan, Bobby or I will cover you.”

“I ‘preciate it, Scoot.”

“No problem.”

The visitors left and Maggie slept fitfully. Logan brought them some ice cream from the cafeteria and had been sitting, her on his lap, quiet, faces buried in each other’s hair.

Logan sniffed. “Something’s wrong.”

“What?”

“I dunno.”

“Logan, you’re scaring me!” It was then that Maggie began to thrash in her bed.