Who: Lexie Tibbits (solo, OT Francis if he’s around) When: Monday, December 06, afternoon What: Lexie’s health issues get out of hand Where: Hobbs campus, music building Rating: PG Status: Complete
Leaving her flute professor’s office, Lexie kept her head down as she wrestled her flailing right arm into her coat, hoping desperately that he would see her struggling. Getting her headphones into her ears was even harder, but she eventually managed it, and she calmed slightly when the first strains of the 27th movement of Bach's Saint Matthew Passion filled her ears. It wasn't like Lexie to listen to music everywhere she went - usually she preferred to keep her head up and ears open so she could talk to people as she floated from class to class, but nowadays she found that it was easier to shut out the world. She hated that the first question she heard from anyone these days was "are you okay, Lexie?" Because she wasn't. In some ways, Lexie was certain that she'd never been farther from okay, and much as she tried to put on a good face, it was obvious that her cheerful façade was slipping.
To avoid answering this question, she did her best to keep to herself, barricading herself in her room or in a practice room on the weekends, using the excuse that she needed to study or practice - she didn't have time for socializing. It helped that the statement was half-true, of course, but Lexie found that her inexplicable health problems were making it terribly difficult to do anything, especially practice music. It seemed that her arm was out of her control more than it was in it, which made playing the flute nearly impossible. All of her teachers had noticed at some point or another, which was why Lexie had turned her steps toward the music building. The last thing she wanted to do was ask for an extension on her jury, but at this point she wasn't sure she had a choice. She hadn't been able to play her instrument properly in months, although not for lack of trying. It was bad enough that her body was breaking down on her, but to take away one of her main sources of joy – her ability to play her flute – was an especially cruel trick of fate. She’d been so desperate for music that she’d even resorted to singing. Listening to music almost helped, but even that was making her feel increasingly farther away from actually participating in the exercise, as if she were a starving girl trapped outside while she watches her family eat Thanksgiving dinner through the window. Sometimes just listening was too depressing to handle.
Lexie honestly didn’t think she’d ever been more miserable. Even during the fallout from the whole David fiasco, at least she knew that she was healthy, that she could trust her body. At first, it had been easy to dismiss its failings as little inconveniences. A twitch here, a fumble there, a bit of memory loss… it was all easily attributed to stress. But as her conditioned worsened she’d finally grown concerned.
The irony was, if any of her friends had complained of these symptoms, she would’ve insisted that they see a physician long before she did, and even then she’d make sure to keep her doctor’s visit (and all of the subsequent visits after that) as secret as possible. The last thing she needed was for people to worry, but now her condition was so obvious that she couldn’t have stopped them from worrying even if she wanted to. All she wanted was to feel better, but despite everything – all the scans and consultations and medicine that had no effect – nothing had made the slightest bit of difference. Granted, she hadn’t exactly tried everything - she’d stopped short of anything that would’ve required switching from her own school-funded health insurance and would’ve made her rely on her parents’ At times during this process she’d been tempting to call her mother and father just to ask their advice, but her desire to keep them from fretting had always won out in the end.
Somewhere in her naïve heart she still believed that the problem would go away on its own, but at this point she was almost out of denial. Dark thoughts had been creeping into her brain: what if this was some symptom of a much larger cause? What if she really was sick? What if it was fatal? God… the awfulness that such news would cause for her family was too horrific even to contemplate.
Lexie’s steps faltered when she finally reached the music building, the whole right side of her body jerking a little with the force of her twitch. She groaned softly and leaned on the railing as she gingerly started down the. What did her music instructors think of her, chickening out on her jury like this? And what good would it do anyway? Unless there was some sort of miracle cure, she wasn’t even sure when she’d be able to play the flute again, if she ever would. Oh God. Lexie shivered hard; while death was still a far-off, abstract concept, the threat of never being able to play her beloved instrument again was a much clearer, more terrifying thought. The fear was punctuated by a sudden swelling of the music as the full choir began to sing: “Sind Blitze, sind Donner,” the choir thundered in her ears.
The change was enough to chase the sinister thoughts from Lexie’s mind and even brought a small smile to her lips as she reached the second flight of stairs. Who said that classical music couldn’t pack the same punch as rock-and-roll? Lexie stiffened her arm as another small tremor coursed through it and tried to concentrate only on the music in her ears rather than the thoughts tumbling around in her head, her grip slackening a little on the railing. Unfortunately, by the time the ripple of sound had reached the first sopranos, Lexie was so engaged in the music that she failed to see the next vibration coming. The tremble shook arm so hard that she let go of the railing altogether, and before she could reclaim it, yet another spasm burst through her.
The choir reached a frenzied crescendo and Lexie’s foot gave way and then, for one beat, was silent. All Lexie heard as her head cracked against the floor was one, final organ blast.