Beep Beep Beep

Connie opened her bleary eyes and squinted to make out the time on her I Phone. 5:00am, her usual wake up time. For a minute she laid her head back onto the pillow and let the early dawn sun creep through the curtains, blanketing her in a warming glow. She smiled to herself as she enjoyed the silence of a new day and the stillness of her bedroom. It was a far cry from her usual surroundings in the hectic ED. In that moment, she was at peace. But just as quickly as the serenity arrived, did it disappear. Her expression, that just seconds previously was at ease, hardened. A knot in her stomach formed and, like an anchor dragged her down into a scrunched up ball. Realisation had hit, just as it did every morning. Little Gracie was gone. Her baby girl was dead. She was never coming back. Connie scrunched her eyes shut and pulled the covers over her head. She begged silently for the darkness to engulf her and take her to the blissful oblivion. But that was not an option. Not after months spent in a catatonic state. In her sternest voice, the one she had used with many a registrar and F1 in her years as a formidable cardio-thoracic surgeon, she told herself "Right Connie, this just will not do. Get up, you have patients that need you." So with the sheer determination that only a woman like Connie could muster, she pulled back the duvet and got up.

The last year had been tough on Connie. In truth, the last eighteen months had been tough. After Grace had died in a car accident in October 2013, she had all but broken down. After a month of shutting out everyone and everything, she decided that enough was enough. With the determination and a course of antidepressants, she returned to work. Well, it was not the work that she had originally left Darwin for in the States, that private medical practice had been unable, or unwilling, to hold her position open for her. Instead, with the help of a few old contacts at Holby, she was able to take up a position as a consultant and quickly became clinical lead. She had made a few enemies with her ruthless ambition and icy exterior but that was to be expected. Connie's lifelong dedication had been to medicine and no one stood in the way of that. God knows she had give more of her time to her profession than she ever had to Grace when she was alive. Although she didn't consider herself superstitious, preferring to listen to science and hard facts than old wives' tales and urban legends, Connie had taken Grace's premature death as a sign. She had neglected her precious gift and as punishment she had been taken from her. It just confirmed something Connie had known all along: she was no mother, she was a doctor.

Of course, some of the staff at the ED knew about Connie's tragic year and a half but the kept quiet. Even those that didn't know the exact situation knew something awful had happened. They only had to look at the way her clothes hung from her frame, the way her skin sunk in at her cheeks or frequent vacant stares that saw her retreat into a world of her own, to know that this was not the old Connie Beauchamp. Some of the older staff like Charlie and Tess had tried to approach the subject with her. On occasions they made headway, getting her to eat lunch, take a break and once Charlie even managed to give her reassuring hug. The younger and more cautious staff, however, kept the whispering to after hours valuing their jobs and knowing that Connie could and would make their working lives hell.

Touching her feet onto the cool wooden flooring woke her up more and she swiftly moved over to turn on her digital radio, letting the sound of some young pop star block out her dark thoughts before they eclipsed her mind. Opening her bedside cabinet, she took out a tiny box of pills labelled 300mg Sertraline. Her happy pills. Connie had always had depressive tendencies and had been on antidepressants most of her adult life. Before Grace's death, however, she had managed on a much lower dosage, usually 50mg was enough to keep her crippling depression and anxiety at bay. God, if her staff knew that the ice queen had been plagued by panic attacks, depression and anxiety most of her life they wouldn't believe it. Connie was the type of woman to induce panic, not suffer from it. They certainly wouldn't believe that her final year at university had seen her self-harm on a daily basis and struggle with an eating disorder. Connie sighed. No, if they knew any of that, it would ruin her reputation. Closing her eyes and massaging her temples she dry swallowed the pill and relaxed a little reminding herself that that would be enough to numb the pain for another day.

Adding the final touches to her makeup, Connie reviewed herself in the mirror. She was by no means her old self, the seductive bombshell that managed to seduce everyone at Holby from Ric Griffin the Caleb Knight, but she was presentable. Suddenly her phone vibrated and prevented her from delving deeper into her personal critique. She knew who it would be, of course. She had received the same text every morning at the same time for the last year. Unlocking her phone and opening the text from Michael Spence she read the worlds that had been sent with such concern.

"Hello Connie. How are you? Are you up? Are you dressed? Have you eaten? Please be kind to yourself today, I will be down to see you at lunch. M x"

Although the words sounded condescending, Connie knew they were laced with concern and in truth there were days when she needed to take such baby steps. She quickly replied with

"Yes, yes, about to grab some bran flakes and I will try. Look forward to seeing you. C x"