You Give Me Fever || Michael Jackson

Chapter 70: Little Things

December 12, 1993

It's been six days since Becky had her operation, and the most she's done these past few days is sip drinks through a straw, and make small conversation. She's improved somewhat, though, and she's aware of what's happening around her, a little. Even those little things make a difference to me.

But to ease the pain from the operation, she's been given high dosages of Morphine, which have been giving her hallucinations. That's the only light-hearted part of all this; some of the things she "sees" are really quite adorable.

Right now, I'm visiting her in hospital. She's actually awake right now; just a little tired. This is probably the most alert I've seen her in a few days, which makes me so happy inside.

"Sweetheart ... how are you feeling?" I ask her, trying to raise a little conversation to make her feel more comfortable.

"I'm fine Michael ... " she answers.

It's only three words, but even that is an improvement to me. Just a few days ago, she wasn't even awake to speak at all, let alone answer a question I've asked. It makes me feel on top of the world, seeing her this way, compared to what she has been like.

Oh, another thing. She knows that her cancer is terminal now; I told her a couple days ago. Initially, she had a breakdown, crying hysterically at the thought of dying. But then, with the nurses' help, I managed to calm her down and allow her to make the most of the time she has left. Four years is really better than ... say, six months.

My eyes avert to Becky, and I watch her as she looks around the room curiously. She's had a dose of Morphine, not even twenty minutes ago, so she's a little high on that. Could be worse, I guess; she could be in agony from the operation.

Her eyes then whip down to the bed, before widening significantly. She tries to shift positions, but struggles to do so.

"What's wrong, Becky?" I ask, in fake concern. It's only fake because I know what's up; she's having a hallucination, "Whatcha see, huh?" I add.

She points towards the blanket she's sitting under, "Spiders, Michael ... spiders! Millions of them."

"Oh!" I play along as if she's an innocent child, "Sweetie ... they aren't there really, you know ... "

"I don't want to share my bed with them," she huffs, causing me to stifle a giggle. She looks down, hitting the blanket, "Go! Leave me alone, spiders! You can't have this bed."

Her reaction is adorable; she probably knows in her mind that they aren't really there, but then another part of her is telling her that they are. Morphine can have a rather strange affect on people, if taken in certain doses. It's completely normal, though.

"Aww ... " I murmur softly, "Just hallucinations, you know ... just hallucinations ... " My eyes wander around the room at various different things, before they end up back on Becky again, "Any more spiders on the bed?"

She furrows her eyebrows, "Yes. They're everywhere. I-I know they're not really there but ... I see them." Her voice takes on a sad tone, "I'm crazy, Michael ... " she adds.

"You're not crazy, sweetheart," I frown, stroking her hair gently to comfort her, "Far from crazy. It's normal to see spiders when you're like this ... " My fingers lightly comb through her straight, blonde hair, "Completely normal ... "

I decide to sit on the side of the bed with her, and as soon as I do, she leans her head against mine, so I bring her into my embrace, "You're such a precious little thing ... " I tell her sweetly, "All pretty and wonderful and special ... and the best thing is, you belong to me."