Post by Shelby on Mar 14, 2018 0:54:55 GMT
It was at the mention of food that Dr. Marshall turned and looked at the still full plate on Chardonnay's nightstand. He frowned and then looked to Chardonnay, about to give her a look of frustration until he saw the look on her face: shame, embarrassment, not well. He didn't know Chardonnay personally, despite his years of being her doctor, but he knew enough about her to know that this wasn't her. She was always so haughty in his office, always making snarky remarks every time she came in there to have a test done, especially a pap-smear. He always knew that she was okay, that she was healthy. The is the worst condition he had seen her in.
But he always knew that it could be worse. It could be worse. She could have to have a c-section right now because of complications, she could be dying. The blood pressure was worrying, it could lead to life threatening issues. He just hoped that it wouldn't get that bad. He hoped that they had caught it in time.
He wanted Chardonnay to speak to a physiologist, so that she could talk about her problems, maybe make her feel a little better because he knew, just knew, that all of this wasn't just physically based. It was mentally, but he wasn't in the field of making a diagnosis about what was going on with her head. She needed to talk. But he knew that opening that discussion up now, with everyone in the room, would be disastrous. He'd speak to her later about it. When no one was around. It would be her decision whether she wanted to talk to them about it or not.
He turned away from Chardonnay and her uneaten food, who turned to watch her mother leave but kept her hand in Arthur's, holding it tightly and swallowing thickly, and back to Arthur. "I personally don't have a problem with it," he spoke, "as long as the food would fit under the dietary standards I want her to stick within because of her blood pressure." He paused and shook his head. "But it isn't my call, unfortunately. It's up to the hospital since they handle food. I'll speak to them though, tell them the circumstances. I'm sure they'll understand. I can get an answer say by... I don't know, before lunch, so that the right preparations can be made."
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Olivia was down the hall, clutching her phone to her ear with her brow pitched and her knuckles turning white under the pressure to clasped them against the palm of her hand. Thomas was on the phone, just as angry and upset as Olivia, a way in which Olivia hadn't seen Thomas in a long while; he was usually such a gentle man, one who hardly got mad, the type who would rather talk it out than instantly get angry. But he was here, yelling over the phone: not at Olivia, not at Chardonnay. But at the press.
"Those damn..." He started. Olivia could tell that he was pacing, throwing his hands up in the air, stomping his feet around. "How dare they do this, and to my daughter! They had no right! Have no one any good decency anymore! They videoed her on the floor of the hospital, passed out, and sold it and they--"
He could hardly say anymore, and Olivia sounded with her own expletives. Thomas said that he had already called the family lawyer, saying that people were going to pay for exploiting their daughter, running this story of a pregnant Chardonnay Nicholas rushed to the hospital after falling out in a hotel lobby. How dare they, how fucking dare they!
"You cannot let Chardonnay see anything on the news on television--anything. We know how she'll react and we don't need her any more stressed out. It's..." And then she could hear it, the sadness in Thomas' voice as it broke, his frustration in reaching it's peak. Olivia knew that it was a fear of his to not be able to protect Chardonnay, to not keep her out of stories like this. He was just so afraid of what might happen if she saw, of those fucking people doing this in the first place.
"I know, I know," and now Olivia was saddened again, her voice cracking and shaking. "It's not your fault. It's not." She sniffed.
They were off the phone shortly after Olivia gave an update on how Chardonnay was doing. He said that he would call her later when he calmed down and handled some things with the press. Olivia said that she would do what she could as well. When they got off the phone, she didn't immediately go back into the room. She had to calm down. Wipe her face off. Make sure that she wasn't showing off any of that tense air to alert Chardonnay to anything. Calm. Calm. She took five deep breaths with her back against the wall, and then headed back to Chardonnay's room. She didn't say anything as she entered, only said a small apology about having to leave.
But he always knew that it could be worse. It could be worse. She could have to have a c-section right now because of complications, she could be dying. The blood pressure was worrying, it could lead to life threatening issues. He just hoped that it wouldn't get that bad. He hoped that they had caught it in time.
He wanted Chardonnay to speak to a physiologist, so that she could talk about her problems, maybe make her feel a little better because he knew, just knew, that all of this wasn't just physically based. It was mentally, but he wasn't in the field of making a diagnosis about what was going on with her head. She needed to talk. But he knew that opening that discussion up now, with everyone in the room, would be disastrous. He'd speak to her later about it. When no one was around. It would be her decision whether she wanted to talk to them about it or not.
He turned away from Chardonnay and her uneaten food, who turned to watch her mother leave but kept her hand in Arthur's, holding it tightly and swallowing thickly, and back to Arthur. "I personally don't have a problem with it," he spoke, "as long as the food would fit under the dietary standards I want her to stick within because of her blood pressure." He paused and shook his head. "But it isn't my call, unfortunately. It's up to the hospital since they handle food. I'll speak to them though, tell them the circumstances. I'm sure they'll understand. I can get an answer say by... I don't know, before lunch, so that the right preparations can be made."
-------
Olivia was down the hall, clutching her phone to her ear with her brow pitched and her knuckles turning white under the pressure to clasped them against the palm of her hand. Thomas was on the phone, just as angry and upset as Olivia, a way in which Olivia hadn't seen Thomas in a long while; he was usually such a gentle man, one who hardly got mad, the type who would rather talk it out than instantly get angry. But he was here, yelling over the phone: not at Olivia, not at Chardonnay. But at the press.
"Those damn..." He started. Olivia could tell that he was pacing, throwing his hands up in the air, stomping his feet around. "How dare they do this, and to my daughter! They had no right! Have no one any good decency anymore! They videoed her on the floor of the hospital, passed out, and sold it and they--"
He could hardly say anymore, and Olivia sounded with her own expletives. Thomas said that he had already called the family lawyer, saying that people were going to pay for exploiting their daughter, running this story of a pregnant Chardonnay Nicholas rushed to the hospital after falling out in a hotel lobby. How dare they, how fucking dare they!
"You cannot let Chardonnay see anything on the news on television--anything. We know how she'll react and we don't need her any more stressed out. It's..." And then she could hear it, the sadness in Thomas' voice as it broke, his frustration in reaching it's peak. Olivia knew that it was a fear of his to not be able to protect Chardonnay, to not keep her out of stories like this. He was just so afraid of what might happen if she saw, of those fucking people doing this in the first place.
"I know, I know," and now Olivia was saddened again, her voice cracking and shaking. "It's not your fault. It's not." She sniffed.
They were off the phone shortly after Olivia gave an update on how Chardonnay was doing. He said that he would call her later when he calmed down and handled some things with the press. Olivia said that she would do what she could as well. When they got off the phone, she didn't immediately go back into the room. She had to calm down. Wipe her face off. Make sure that she wasn't showing off any of that tense air to alert Chardonnay to anything. Calm. Calm. She took five deep breaths with her back against the wall, and then headed back to Chardonnay's room. She didn't say anything as she entered, only said a small apology about having to leave.