Steady On Forward

Chapter 13

The other IVs were right in the bends of his elbows, so he tried to keep his arms extended as much as possible so they didn't stab him, but that was difficult when he usually ended up having to make a quick grab for the heart monitor battery pack when it slipped off of the sloped edge of the sink where he had to set it to wash his hands. At least he didn't have to worry about the tape coming off as much with those ones, though.

So yeah, Dick tried to avoid the bathroom as much as possible.

Speaking of hospital annoyances, he wasn’t allowed to take a shower either, because they didn’t want to take the IVs or heart monitor off. Although that one he probably would skip out on anyway, if they didn't allow him to close the door. He really couldn't deal with a stranger potentially seeing him naked, even if they were a nurse and not really looking. He did his best not to think about how he got cleaned up and put into a hospital gown in the first place, because every time he thought about a nurse undressing his unconscious body he started to hyperventilate.

He did really want a shower, though. It had been a few days now, and his attempts at washing up in the sink were not quite the same. What he wanted the most, though, was freedom from literally being tethered to all of these things. He wanted out with the uncomfortable IVs; he wanted gone with the heart monitor, which itched around the stickers and was generally an unwieldy nuisance; and he wanted off with the awkward bandages, which they insisted on keeping over his forearms until the cuts fully healed so he couldn't pick at them. Oh, and privacy. He also really wanted some fucking privacy.

Unfortunately, though, for the near future that was looking to be an impossibility.

◇◇◇

It took eleven days — eleven days full of constant blood draws and horribly unwieldy bathroom breaks and mind-numbing boredom, and Jason and Bruce taking turns keeping him company with awkward conversation — until Dick's blood was finally pronounced clean enough of toxins that he could be transferred to a mental facility.

Bruce had arranged for him to go to a discreet hospital in Connecticut that apparently dealt with a lot of famous people. Thankfully, it also brought him a lot closer to home.

He supposed it was nice enough there so far, or as nice as a mental hospital could be, but it certainly had its drawbacks.

If Dick had thought the one-on-one watch at the first hospital was stifling, that was nothing compared to Silver Hill. Here it was called being 'on status', but it was the same idea.

He desperately wanted to take a shower now that all the needles and wires were off of him, but he was going to have to be on status for the first two days here at least, and there was no way in hell he was going to shower with somebody watching him through the open door and the clear shower curtain. Absolutely none. 

One of the nurses went around every fifteen minutes to check and make sure everyone was present, accounted for, and not trying to harm themselves with what little there was to even attempt to do so with, and whatever nurse was doing rounds could potentially catch him in the shower, but he thought maybe he could deal with someone just glancing in like that, as long as they weren't sticking around and watching. Logically, he knew even the nurse watching him on status probably wouldn't be looking directly at him, but he still just didn't think he could handle it.

The intake had been bad enough when they'd had to do a body check to take note of any injuries, scars, or tattoos, and he'd had to let a nurse see him in just his underwear. The nurse had said he'd just needed a quick glance, but then he'd had to apologize and ask to see again because Dick had so many scars. It was possible Dick had momentarily lost control and started crying, and the nurse had just asked him to tell him where the rest of the scars were.