Emergency Medical Dad

VII: 7:15 am, present

Content Warning:
Anxiety attack, phantom limb pain. 
Summary at the bottom if you decide to skip this content.

JORGEN

Involved.

I'm involved. I'm biologically involved. I'm-

I have to take a minute. Duke and Luka are out of the house as fast as possible after Kazian leaves, Pitty and Ian not short after them. Jessie and Connor are last.

It leaves me in the kitchen the second the door shuts with my head on the countertop and my hands folded over it, shaking all over.

Connor is biologically mine. I have a son.

I have a son.

My hand fumbles over my back pocket, sliding my phone out onto the counter, hands trembling and head spinning.

"Jorgen, it's seven in the morning, did something happen? I told you to call if you needed it but you never do so this is alarming." Ron, for supervision incase I need more help than the empty house can offer. 

"Sorry," I croak.

"Are you alright?"

"Uh," my body is vibrating, not in a good way. "I'm having a little bit of a panic attack, but." It's definitely a panic attack, a loose but tight feeling in my chest, erratic heart rate, sweating hands, moderate derealization. I'm trembling like a scared dog and I need to get off my feet before I pass out, or worse. I hit speakerphone and sit down as slowly as I can against the cabinets. I'm in danger for a phantom limb pain episode if I can't get this nervous response under control.

"You're the only person I know that can be analytic about a panic attack during a panic attack. Are you sitting down? Are you near water you feel comfortable getting up to get?"

"I'm sitting and no," I grip my hands and then release them, then tighten again, releasing after a second.

I pull in four seconds of breath, hold it, release for four, hold it.

"Do you..." I pause to breathe, "do you remember when I told you about Jessie Kingston, my classmate from high school?"

He stays quiet for just a moment, "maybe. What would you have brought her up for?"

I close my eyes, breathing out, then holding, "sometimes I remember her at random. It would've been mentioned talking about my senior year." In. Hold. Out. Hold.

"Was she the redhead on the same frisbee team as you?"

"Yes," I punctuate the word, making sure it actually gets out of my mouth.

"How did she come up again? Have you seen her this morning?"

I ignore that question, breathing in, "I hooked up with her several times eight years ago."

"Yes...?"

"I must've been too stoned," I bring my hands up into my hair, "I must've been so stoned." It's making it worse. Thinking about this is making it worse.

"Jorgen, if this is a triggering topic right now you should steer clear of it until you're able to calm down," Ron advises.

"I have a son." I blurt it out to an empty kitchen in an empty house.

He's stunned quiet and I need it, breathing in, holding, breathing out, holding. I squeeze my hands in routine with my breathing but it's not doing anything to help me, maybe even adding to the fiery tingling in my chest and the trembling in my body.