Taken Ill

(OOC: Feel free to RP your government offering sympathy, or whatever)

A rich smell of oak hung throughout the air of the House of Commons. In the middle of the front row, upon the green cushions of the bench, sat Harald Blomstedt, the incumbent Prime Minister. Politely listening to the discussion, he stood to contribute.

‘As we all can see, Oktobergrad is in a state of crisis…’ he began, before an excruciating pain burst through his skull. He had been having headaches regularly like this before - especially in mornings - in the last few days - maybe weeks - but none so nearly as agonising. He had tried cannabis before to alleviate the pain when it had struck, but even that had not worked. He had taken paracetamol before the parliament session as another attempt to stop the pain before it could hit, but that had clearly not worked a bit.

He tried to continue as he clutched his forehead, and furrowed his brow. ‘Crisis… yes. A nuclear power plant has exploded in…’

But he could not continue. The pain was too much; it felt as if his skull was imploding. What the hell was happening? He had no idea what was causing these… headaches.

‘Uh… one moment, please.’ he said, taking a sip of water. His vision blurred. He began to feel nauseous as the world spun violently before him. Before he could utter another word to the MPs assembled, his knees buckled and he collapsed onto the floor.

Harald awoke over six hours later in Marcadia City Hospital. Get well soon cards and flowers in glass vases adorned his bedside table, from MPs and citizens alike. He was sure that his collapse had made national news.

A doctor, clad in a blue uniform and with a stethoscope draped around her neck, approached his bed. She walked towards him with a worryingly nervous aura around her.

‘We’ve still got no idea why you collapsed, Mr Blomstedt.’ she said, eyes darting from his face to the chart attached to the end of his bed. ‘We conducted an MRI scan while you were unconscious, and we’re still examining it, trying to determine what caused you to black out. We’re suspecting intracranial pressure, but we’re working to identify exactly what happened, and why.’

‘Aside from that, you’ve got minor bruising on your knees and elbows. You hit the right side your head on the floor, which caused the concussion. There’s only minor bleeding there, though, and no sign of any fractures, on the skull or anywhere.’

‘Mr Blomstedt, we would like to wish you the best for your stay and diagnosis. Hopefully it will turn out to be something minor, but please be prepared in case the worst may happen.’

Six hours earlier.

Christian III sat upon the Speaker’s chair, facing the 800 MPs assembled in front of him. He had begun the discussion on the nuclear incident in Cogoria several minutes ago, and now the debate was bouncing back and forth between the MPs as they discussed suitable responses to the crisis. However, as Harald stood to begin, Christian noticed something… odd. His posture seemed different, as if his back had seized up. And as Harald looked around the room, everyone could clearly see how dilated the pupils in his eyes were, and the pain he felt as he brought his hand to his forehead, and took a hasty drink of water.

As he collapsed, a shriek could be heard from the left side of the room, immediately, the nearest MPs - in accordance from what every Xentheridan learned in school - placed him into the recovery position, and checked his breathing. Other MPs hastily exited the building, seeking help; another took out their phone to call an ambulance.


Blue lights flashed through the air outside the Parliament building as Harald, laying atop a stretcher, was wheeled into an ambulance waiting nearby. The press were by the gates, cameras filming and taking pictures as the Prime Minister, wearing an oxygen mask and neck brace, was rolled to the vehicle sitting by the kerb.

As he was being driven to the helicopter that would carry him to Marcadia City Hospital, paramedics had performed checks, and ensured that he would make the journey. From there, he had been driven to the nearest helicopter pad, and flown all the way to Marcadia, where he would receive specialist treatment at the top hospital for neuroscience, and related conditions; the Marcadia City Hospital.


Present time.

Harald sighed through his oxygen mask. He had not anticipated that his day would turn out this way. He was lucky enough not to be placed onto a ventilator; the fear that hypoxia could set in, dilating blood vessels and further increasing “Intracranial Pressure” As it was, they were still concerned with oxygenation. From what he could tell, he had been placed on a cocktail of drugs; from saline, which reduced cerebral water, decreasing swelling; sedatives, analgesics, paralytic agents on the helicopter flight, and finally IV fluids to control blood pressure. The main fear was of a herniation; the dangerous side-effect of high intracranial pressure, with potentially lethal effects.

All these symptoms, and yet still the reason for it was unknown. He simply had to hope that this reason was not something even worse.

Get well soon

The evening was quiet in Marcadia Hospital. The setting sun cast its golden rays through the windows and into the wards. Cards from other world leaders were now stacked upon the bedside table, and now platinum-plated flowers from Wolfensjaeger sat in the vase.

The soft click of shoes upon the floor grew closer, and Harald turned his head to see a doctor - the same doctor as last time - enter the ward and walk towards him. She seemed yet more nervous than last time.

‘We’ve checked your results, and double checked them to confirm your results. I’m so sorry, Mr Blomstedt’’ she said, and a wave of shock rushed through Harald. ‘But I’m afraid you have been diagnosed with brain cancer.”

Those words. Those words would stay with him for an eternity. Speechless, all he could do was stare into the distance and the doctor explained his condition. Tumours located on the cerebellum and brain stem. A terrifyingly high mortality rate. Months, if not years, of treatment.

“We know this is some devastating news to break to you. How do you feel?”

Harald swallowed. “I’m - I’m okay. I’m okay. It’s just…” he stammered, choking back tears. “It’s good. I’m good.”

He knew he wasn’t, and the doctor didn’t seem convinced either. “Well… I’ll leave you to take this all in.”

Harald had rarely thought of his own mortality before now, but with the looming threat of his death hanging over his head he had never been quite so scared in all his life. He had no family, as an only child and with his parents dying while Adam was only in his mid twenties.

But he would not die alone; his friends, fellow MPs, even Xentheridans would be there to support him through his treatment. There was still hope.


“It is with great regret that I am informing all here that Harald Blomstedt has been diagnosed with brain cancer.”

No response from the rest of the Parliament as Christian read out the report. MPs sat in muted shock in the House.

“Due to the illness of the PM, it is imperative that a snap election is called. Until that is decided, then Deputy Prime Minister Leona Antonsson will assume the role as leader of the Grand Federation.”

“We will further discuss the snap election tomorrow. Parliament is dismissed.”