Dr Tara Campbell (doctortara) wrote,
Dr Tara Campbell

musesandlyrics | 3.29. The Tremloes lyrics

3.29. How many times will she fall for his line
Should I tell her or should I keep cool?
And if I tried, I know she'd say I lied
Mind your business, don't hurt her, you fool

Silence Is Golden - The Tremloes

[Follows THIS]

It hadn't been the fact that Lachlan had flat-out refused the surgery that made Tara angry. In fact, she had anticipated that might be the reaction if this time ever came. They had both known it was going to come, but until it was actually being waved in their faces, they had been able to push it to the back of their minds. Then the letter arrived. The surgery could occur in February. All Tara wanted was for him not to make any rash decisions and when his PTSD tried to kick-in, it was her job as his wife to make sure he was okay. He had suffered so long with the pain since he had been shot that the surgery not only promised to ease that, at least a little, but also might increase his chances of being able to conceive if they could locate the actual site of the damage.

She never expected him to tell her it was none of her business.

None of her business?! She was married to him. Had cradled him in her arms when he nearly bled to death. Had sat beside him for weeks on end without knowing if he even had a chance of waking from the coma. Had been by his side ever since, for months and months of excruitiating physio to get him back on his feet. Had given birth to his only child, risking the baby's own health to carry him full term. And it wasn't her business?

She did know he reacted out of anger. It was out-of-character for him. Anything to do with the shooting that forced him to face the consequences of it, and he inevitably reacted in two ways... anger or panic. This time, it was a mix of both. Tara just couldn't understand why taking the time to consider it to make him feel better was such an awful prospect. Actually, she could. And it terrified her, too. Lachlan was allergic to general anaesthetic and surgery would have to be performed under heavy sedatives and local anaesthetic in the op site. He would also, obviously, need to be a patient again and that was what terrified him the most. Tara, herself, wasn't sure if she could face the risky surgery, but she also didn't want him to live a life in pain. Some days, he couldn't even get out of bed with it. Still. Two years after it happened. Surgery could fix that internal damage, and all she had wanted was for him to think about it.

The hurt and anger had flooded through her, and she just needed to not be in his presence. With Riley having been grizzly since he woke up that morning, she really didn't like to take him out in case his sugar levels were going to take a dive, but she had to separate herself from Lachlan just for a little bit while he was like that. He had been due at work in a few hours, anyway. Tara sought solace at Evie's place for a little while, the expectant Mum more than happy for godmum time with RJ. Tara was grateful because it gave her time to stew and seethe and maybe panic a little what the next turn could be. And watching a very pregnant Evie play with her son, Tara couldn't stop her mind turning to the what-ifs. What if the surgery was successful and they could have another baby? Just one more chance? Would she even want to, knowing how horrific it had been to survive through the miscarriage and then inevitably pass the diabetes to her newborn son because her body had just been so taxed and stressed during gestation? Would she even survive a second pregnancy? The birth had landed her in a diabetic coma. It was just one thing after another.

Now Lachlan was at work and Tara had brought Riley back home. He was still restless and grizzly, so it was just better to have him here as much as she appreciated having her best friend around her after the blow up. She had stood and looked forlornly at the washing line out the back, where rows and rows of cloth diapers and baby clothes were hanging neatly. She had been doing the laundry when the letter had arrived, but she never had a chance to hang it out before she left. Lachlan had done it for her. Normally Tara tried to do those sorts of things if Lachlan had to work. He was probably just as upset about the whole thing as she was, and wanted to make it up to her in some way. They rarely argued, especially not like this. It was always going to be a low, sharp blow when they did.

Tara pulled her son's little denim overalls back up after a nappy change and tucked his little rock star t-shirt back in. He was looking up at her with a miserable little frown on his light features and Tara cupped his hand in her palm and kissed his fingers. She moved on to feel his cheek and forehead with the backs of her fingers. "Are you a little bit warm, my wee man?" she asked in concern. "Is that why you've been cranky? Don't worry, sweetie pie. Mummy feels like crap, too." She picked him up, kissing his head and nuzzling his hair as she looked at the clock. It was probably too late to put him down for a nap or he'd be awake all night. But she felt a little off herself and really could use a sit-down with a cup of tea. Maybe she could settle him on the sofa with her and they could both take it easy until Lachlan came home and she would have to face the music with him. She was a huge advocate for the old adage that you should never go to be bed angry at each other.

She didn't have much of a chance to decide either way what to do. She heard thunder in the distance and then a glance out the living room curtains showed her heavy rain clouds above and rain starting to fall outside. "Oh shit," she cursed. The washing. It was Riley's diapers for the week, and she couldn't just leave them out there. Letting her breath out in a heavy rush, she place Riley in his buggy, to which he immediately protested with a loud wail that set off a miserable wave of sobbing. Tara bolted out the back to at least get some of the diapers and clothing off to keep them going for the next day. She was already soaked by the time she got to the bottom step of the porch and nearly slipped on the wet grass there. Her son crying inside wasn't helping her stress levels, either. Fucking rain!

She had barely pulled two diapers from the line when a sharp, unsteadying dizziness hit her like a tonne of bricks. She righted herself with her fingers hooked around the line for all of thirty seconds, trying to still through it. It just got worse though, building to a woozy nausea. She fought it, she really tried. Even as she hunched over and vomited onto the grass beside her, she managed to remain on her feet, despite the heavy raindrops pelting down on her back. It was only when Riley's screams seemed to fade into a muffle that she knew something was wrong. She lost her balance when it felt like someone had grabbed her and tried to pull her to the floor. The last thing she was aware of was a sense that she was freezing - chilled to the bone - and then nothing.

All muses referenced with permission and are from the princeton2nyc universe

Word Count | 1,295
Tags: musesandlyrics
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