He Calls a Mansion, Not a House, but a Tomb

Today I'm at the hospital again. It's been a week and I've been scheduled for a follow-up appointment to check on my fractured rib and my wrist. Gerard and I have been put into an X-ray room and we're waiting for a doctor.
I was sitting in my wheelchair and Gerard was crouched down like a frog, resting the side of his head on my forearm with his eyes closed. I smiled.
I've been planning on talking to Gerard about how long I would be staying with him. I really only have the excuse of staying with him until I can have crutches. And I think a bruised wrist doesn't take long to heal. But I'm no doctor.
I opened my mouth to speak just as the door swung open. Dr Marshall smiled warmly at Gerard and I.
"Hello, Frank, Gerard." He said. I smiled.
"Hello, doctor." Gerard said. I chuckled at his monotone.
"You seem perky today." Dr Marshall commented with a smile.
"Well, I had to get up at 5:00 AM. It's not pleasant after a lazy weekend." Gerard joked, rubbing his eyes. I laughed. The appointment was at 7:00 and we had to get up, get ready, call a van cab to accommodate me, and then get to the hospital and get to where we are now. Sounds simple and quick, but it was hell!
"Okay, Frank, how have you been feeling?" Dr Marshall asked, dropping Gerard's topic on the floor.
"I've been good. The wrist and rib almost never hurt." I said. He nodded along, writing into his clipboard.
"You've been taking pain killers?" He asked.
"Only when it hurts enough that I can't focus or fall asleep." I replied. Gerard lazily nodded along in a haze and I was pretty sure he was nodding at nothing. He's not a big morning person without his coffee.
"Okay, that's fine... Well, let's get you into the MRI to check on the wrist especially." Dr Marshall said and wheeled me to towards the huge-ass machine I would have to lie in. Gerard walked alongside me, slouching and swaying as if he were drunk.
Dr Marshall helped me get into the strange, white gurney-bed tray-like table. I was dreading the thought of getting in there. I get very, very claustrophobic.
"You'll only be in there for a few minutes." Dr Marshall said in a comforting tone. I smiled before being closed in it.
There was a dim light in the machine, which slightly eased the tension in the pit of my stomach. I closed my eyes, waiting for this to be over. Behind my eyelids, a stronger but not yet bright light shone for a few seconds then it returned to the near darkness.
Then, the table I lied on shifted and I was pulled out of the machine. I shivered, feeling like throwing up.
"Are you okay, Frank?" Gerard asked, his voice still unfocused. I smiled and nodded.
I was put back in the wheelchair and I waited while the images were retrieved by Dr Marshall who left after helping me.
After 15 minutes, a nurse had come by to offer us water. I accepted and Gerard groaned for coffee. He didn't get any.
I was pretty sure it was a bit over an hour before Dr Marshall was back.
"I'm sorry for making you wait here." He said as he closed the door behind him.
"No, it's okay."
"Easy for you to say." Gerard groaned from the floor on the other side of the room. I shook my head in disapproval.
"What's wrong with him?" Dr Marshall asked. I shrugged.
"Withdrawal?" I joked. He smiled.
"Okay, good news; your rib will be better in about a week at this rate. Along with your wrist. You're leg was really damaged so it will be taking a while." Dr Marshall explained, looking over black and white photographs.
Gerard clapped 'enthusiastically' from the floor still at about one clap for each one and a half seconds.
"We need to get him coffee. It's just depressing to look at him." I said, shaking my head again. Dr Marshall smiled.
"You'll need to come back in one week, let's say from tomorrow to be on the safe side and we'll be removing your casts." He said. I nodded.
"Gerard, let's get coffee." I called and Gerard's black mop of hair poked up from its sad little dwelling and his eyes twinkled. I laughed.