The next couple of weeks passed faster than anyone truly realized. Not only were the Backstreet boys performing in sold out concerts but they jaunted across the country to Los Angeles for the Grammy Awards. There they sang a medley of songs solo and a duet with Elton John but walked away without taking home any of the hardware for the five categories in which they were nominated.
Brian was unable to enjoy too much of it thanks to the virus that raged through his system. He did his best to perform his duties as Backstreet Boy but would collapse into bed as soon as he returned to the bus or hotel room. Leighanne, with the help of his equally worried bandmates, finally convinced him to see a doctor during their two-day stay in Dallas. The prognosis was the flu and appropriate antibiotics were prescribed.
Upon the Boys' arrival in St. Louis two weeks later, Brian felt and appeared remarkably better. Only slight congestion and an occasional cough remained. Nick was continuously teasing his friend about his nasal voice and how he and the others were sometimes forced to repeat things in order for Brian to hear them.
"Hey, B," Nick yelled as he entered from the other section of the dressing room.
"Yeah?"
"Jesus, I was calling you for the last ten minutes. Didn't you hear me?"
"I HEARD you. I just chose to IGNORE you," the older man said with a small smile.
"Da-yum, at least I know I'm loved."
"So what did you want?"
"Wondered if you were going out with the rest of us tonight since the ball-n-chain isn't here."
Brian shook his head. "Thanks though. I need to work on some stuff with Tommy and call the 'ball-n-chain' as you so eloquently called Leighanne."
"Your loss, man. You're going to miss the par-tay."
"Hey, Nicky," Howie yelled from the other room. "Oh, hey, Bri, you coming with us?"
Nick answered. "Nah, you know, the guy might as well be married now. He needs to phone home."
Brian shrugged. "I told Leigh I'd talk to her tonight."
"Don't worry, Bri, he's just jealous."
"Jealous of what?" Nick looked shocked. "I'm only 20. I'm not even thinking of tying myself down to one girl. Damn, if anyone's jealous, D, it's you..."
"I'm not having this discussion with you, Nicky," Howie stated waving to Brian as he wandered out the door.
Nick trailed behind him. "Yeah, you won't argue cuz you know I'll win...Bye, Frick...Howie, dammit, come back here."
Brian's smile became a frown as soon as Nick and Howie disappeared from sight. He hated lying – especially to those he considered his closest friends.
The truth was he hadn't heard Nick call him until the younger man was a few feet away. Lately, he was having trouble hearing his in-ear monitor over the applause from the fans during concerts. At first, he had dismissed it as nagging symptoms from the cold he suffered, but now he wasn't so certain. He knew his hearing was gradually worsening.
He hadn't told anyone, his own denial of the situation was too strong. But as strong as that was, there was one emotion that overpowered it.
Fear.
Not knowing if the situation could become worse or better.
That night, though, as he lay on the bed in his hotel suite, he gave into that fear. He forced himself to believe that he wasn't getting better. He needed help.
That night, he made the promise to himself to see a doctor as soon as possible.
* ~ * ~ *
As was becoming all too customary in Brian's life, his career took precedence over his health. This time it was his own unwillingness to tell anyone about his condition that cause his well-being to be shoved aside for the sake of the Backstreet Boys.
Several years prior, in 1997, when the band was trying to break into the U.S. market, Brian postponed necessary heart surgery twice at the command of the Boys management. It was for the greater good and advancement of the group, they said. Essentially, what they had meant was that the money was more important than Brian.
Now he had more control – at least, in theory. Still he couldn't justify taking any time away without having to explain himself. Somehow he would have to find a way.
* ~ * ~ *
Brian had been able to secure an appointment with an ear, throat and nose specialist with the help of his primary care doctor and without the knowledge of the rest of the world. After pulling a few strings, he was even able to get the report back the next day.
Now he sat in an examining room in Los Angeles awaiting the doctor's return with his test results. His head was bowed slightly, his lips moving in a silent prayer.
"Mr. Littrell," Dr. Robeson acknowledged. The young man raised his head as the physician took the seat next to him. "I have your test results."
"What's wrong with me? It's just a sinus infection, right? Please tell me it was just the cold."
"You have something called sensorineural hearing loss.”
“So I can take medication right. Clear it right up.”
The doctor shook his head sadly. “This isn’t easily cured - in fact, it’s incurable. Brian...Son, you are going deaf."
