Landslide

Head First Into A Mess

Lady Gaga took a long drag on her cigarette and leaned back on the couch. She sat with her legs crossed and let the smoke out of her nostrils. Another fucking party. And another fucking party. She was dying inside and had no idea how she managed to get to the couch she was sitting on. She decided not to inhale ever again and see if she could manage to pass out. Or die even.

Maybe if I hold my breath long enough I pass out and I don't have to feel like this anymore, she thought. Her eyes were burning with exhaustion at 11 am and she had only been awake for about 20 minutes.

Her stylist Nicola's assistant, Marta, arranged the three racks with outfits that Nicola had sent over via her. "Have you been living off anything at all lately besides nicotine?" she asked and looked at Gaga. "You look like you're in need of a nice date and a restaurant."

"How many nights EXACTLY in a row have I been up playing poker? With dates." Gaga's bright pink hair with extensions started to look matte and flat on her head. She simply pulled it back and all you could see was her dark roots.

The stylist ignored her question since she had no idea how Gaga spent her nights, but she assumed her so-called-dates were her employees. Today she was just delivering outfits for Gaga to pick from. "You usually know exactly what you want." Marta pointed at the racks. "You haven't even glanced at them."

Gaga coughed and took another drag on the cigarette. "Just leave them there. I'll have a look later."

"Hello?" Marta stared at Gaga. "Are you sure you're OK?" She took a step closer towards the couch. The tiny, pink haired woman on the couch turned her face up while she leaned over the table to put the cigarette out in the already full ashtray.

Marta pulled her eyebrows together. "You just turned like really pale, are you sure-"

Before the assistant could finish the sentence Gaga fell forward out of the couch and slammed her head into the table. She tumbled down on the floor and Marta shouted out for help. "BO! OH my– A LITTLE HELP!"

...

"Stefani, can you hear me? You're at the ER at UCLA Medical Center in LA. Stefani?"

Gaga woke up and saw the face of a man hovering over her and trying to contact her. She felt a pressure around her right arm as they checked her blood pressure and then a slight discomfort when someone inserted an IV into her left arm. She just wanted to close her eyes again when the same person forced one eye open and told her to look straight forward and then to her left. A sharp pain in her eye when the light caused her pupil to rapidly contract. And then he repeated the procedure with her other eye. She pulled her face away and frowned. It felt like the bed was moving underneath her. What on earth had they given her?

"When did you last have something to eat?" the same man asked.

"Eat?" she asked as if it was a completely unfamiliar word to her.

"We're gonna get you a room ASAP and keep you monitored. We're also gonna do some more tests but for now we've given you fluids and a parenteral nutrition. How are you feeling? Do you know what date it is?"

"Alive," she muttered. "And I know it's December 11th, and it's 2019.

The man smiled. "Well, that's something at least. And close enough, it's the 12th." He moved over to a laptop and made some quick notes. Another nurse moved around the room and tried to keep the ECG and IV drips attached to Gaga from tangling into one another.

"Oxygen saturation is a bit on the low side for a woman your age, but I take it you're quite the heavy smoker."

"Go off I guess..." Gaga muttered, knowing they were totally setting her up. Even if it showed 98 % they would tell her smoking is so bad. She raised her hand to her face and noticed she had something on her temple.

"Oh, yeah. You hit your head when you passed out. It's just a small cut but head wounds usually bleed a lot so we taped it together. It won't even leave a scar." He gave her a quick smile as if she was a disobedient child.

The nurse eventually appeared in the door opening with a wheel chair. "OK, miss Germanotta. The limousine that's gonna take you to your room at the medical ward has arrived."

"Your sense of humor is astounding," Gaga scoffed and felt their hands underneath her arms as they helped her stand up. They removed the ECG and the drip bags and she was going to complain and tell them she could walk, when she realized how weak she was. Her legs trembled as she put her bare feet down on the floor and she was still in the same clothes she wore at home. A white t-shirt and panties. They put a blanket over her thighs and rolled her out into the corridor.

Even if they were considerate and caring she felt like she was just another dumbass celeb falling head first into embarrassments and leaving them to clean up the mess as discrete as possible. She hid her face in her palms and sighed.