Arthur Charles Abrams, "Artie" (sg_artie) wrote in supergleerpg, @ 2011-09-24 13:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | !type: thread, -2011: september, wanted character: artie abrams, wanted character: finn hudson, ~complete, ~scene lottery |
Artie + Finn = Fartie
When: Saturday 9/24, around 10 AM
Where: Lima Memorial Park
Who: Artie and Finn for scene lottery
What: Artie and Finn discuss gay friends, weird stuff, walking, and flying.
Artie was glad to have plans with Finn that day, being that Finn was totally his boy for having his back on Friday. Puck, too. They'd decided to go for a walk in the park around 10 that morning, since it was such a nice day. Now, a walk in the park sounded a little gay, maybe like something you'd do on a date. But, given the fact that walking was pretty new for Artie, he figured they could both hang onto their respective man cards. Especially if they blew stuff up. Artie had a model rocket stuck in his backpack. It was going to be epic.
He still overestimated how much time it was going to take for him to get showered, dressed, and ready in the morning. He still woke up and used his arms to maneuver his legs into the right position before he remembered. And then, rather than reaching for his wheelchair, he'd slide his arms comfortably into the crutches. It was getting easier and easier to stand himself up first thing in the morning. Then he'd hobble into the bathroom and easily get himself undressed to shower. He still showered sitting down, because his shower was already designed for that purpose. Plus, the crutches needed to stay dry. Once he was clean, it was much easier to maneuver his way out of the shower, dry off, and get dressed again. He had so much time left over that he went ahead and knocked out his weekend homework while waiting for Finn to come by and pick him up.
At ten 'til ten, Artie made his way downstairs on his butt, scooting down each step carefully. Sure, he could've sat down on the chair lift, but where was the fun in that? Once he was situated on the bottom step, he simply lined up his crutches and raised himself up again. His mother still teared up a little when he hobbled right into the kitchen and grabbed a muffin. He stuffed the muffin in his mouth as Charlotte quickly poured him a glass of juice. "Slow down..." she urged him, extending the cranberry juice out for him to take. As Artie accepted the beverage and began to drink, Charlotte opened the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of pills. But Artie stopped her.
"I don't think I need those," he said. "They're for muscle spasms, and I haven't had any in the past two weeks. No, no, I think I'm good now."
Charlotte's eyes went wide as her son said this. She opened her mouth, as though to counter his argument with one of her own. Then she promptly closed it, however, as she could think of nothing to say to this. Nodding, she put the pills away.
"And I might not even have to drink cranberry juice anymore," Artie went on. He hated cranberry juice. It was just something his doctor recommended to help prevent any kidney or urinary tract issues. But now? "I haven't been using my catheters for a week, Mom. I can pee without them. I can tell when I've got to pee. Like, right about now, for instance."
With that, Artie set his glass aside and hobbled off to use the restroom downstairs, leaving his mother in the kitchen, staring at the empty glass in shock. She glanced at the answering machine, for the Abrams' family was a little old-fashioned that way and still had one of those for the house phone. There were eight messages, all from the hospital, that the family had been ignoring all week. She wondered how much longer they could go on ignoring the medical professionals who now desparately wanted to get their hands on Artie.