Blech, blech, blech. More one shot stuff (or possibly not actually! I think I may continue, but tell me what you think) about what happens with Izzie's illness. She's my favourite character and I'm so glad she's finally going to be getting a little more attention (though not really in the best way!)
This is just a little story of what could have happened had Izzie decided to tell Meredith about the metastic melonama. I thought it made perfect sense that Izzie told Cristina, but I am a big fan of the Meredith/Izzie friendship and so I thought I would try this out! I am quite proud of it, and I hope you like it! Oh! There is a little bit about Sex in the City in here; I've never watched the show and so I just did like, forty second research and found an episode and wrote something about it, sorry if it's a bit off base, for any of you who watch the show!
"Meredith?" Izzie does not know what she is doing. Well. That's not true. She does know what she's doing, but she doesn't know why now, or why Meredith. Why not Alex, who, after all, is her boyfriend, or Cristina, who is, after all, a robot and wouldn't get all emotional about it. Why there, in the living room, at ten thirty on a Saturday night.
It's not like Meredith is the most emotionally stable person to tell things to, from what Izzie knows Derek acted like an asshole and used his engagement ring for her as a baseball, and now he won't operate and won't return any of her calls. But this is not the kind of thing Izzie can keep quiet about for any longer.
"Hey," Meredith yawns. She is sitting on the couch, a bowl of half eaten Doritos on her lap and the remote in her hand. She is watching TV, an old episode of Sex in the City.
"Um. Can I talk to you about something?" Izzie poses it like a question, but it isn't really a question. She's going to go ahead even if Meredith says no.
"Sure," Meredith turns the TV off. "What's up?"
And Izzie suddenly doesn't know what to say. She had a speech planned out in her head, but now it suddenly sounds like something that should come from a day time soap opera, the kind her mother used to watch. The words Izzie has made in her mind are not real words or real feelings, they are a facade, an illusion of feeling.
"You know Patient X?" Of course Meredith knows Patient X. If not Patient X, she knows the 'no damn interns in the entire hospital because of Izzie's stupid thing.'
"Yeah, I was going to ask you about that."
"Patient X is me."
Meredith looks confused. "What?"
"I mean... I don't know, where to start exactly."
"Start.. at the beginning," Meredith suggests.
And so she does. She tells Meredith about Denny, seeing Denny and kissing him, being able to touch and talk to him. She tells her about the thing with her vision, and then she tells her about the anaemia patient, until Meredith is all caught up, just until Patient X.
"And so, I told the interns to diagnose the patient.. me. I'm the patient, Patient X. And I knew, right, I knew something was wrong. They thought I was fine, like it was some kind of trick question."
"Was it?" Meredith looks hopeful, like maybe Izzie is just trying to tell her some long winded story about how she's now the most kick ass resident in the hospital, because she's taught her interns to realize when things are fine and when they're not, and now they all worship the ground she walks on, or something.
"No," Izzie smiles wryly. "No, there's something."
"Iz, what's wrong?"
"They said," Izzie takes in a deep breath, "metastic melanoma. Stage four, in my my brain, skin and my liver." In some weird way, it feels both freeing and horrible to tell her.
"I.. what does that mean? I mean.."
"They said.. they think I have three months, maybe. Five percent survival rate."
"Oh my god," Meredith sits for a minute, kneading her fingers together. "Are you sure they're right?"
"Meredith," Izzie smiles, "I thought I was having sex with a dead man. Something's wrong and it.. it makes sense. The interns told me I should go to church. And take a vacation somewhere nice."
"Iz.." Izzie is surprised that Meredith looks like she might cry.
"I just had to tell someone," Izzie says. "And I couldn't tell Alex. He was being all.. future. About us, in the future and I just.. if I'm not even going to be alive in a year I can't.. I can't talk about the future with him."
Meredith reaches out with a hand and it doesn't quite look like it's connected to her body, and then she turns the hand into both her arms, pulling Izzie towards her. "I'm sorry," Meredith says.
"It's not your fault," Izzie says, her voice wavery. They both cry a little bit.
"What are you going to do?" Meredith asks.
"I don't know," Izzie says. She's staring at the black TV, trying not to think too much. "I just.. three months doesn't feel like very long, don't you think? I remember when I was little, and three months away seemed like the longest time in the world and it always seemed like it would never get here.. but three months.. it's not very long."
"Five percent is something."
"Yeah... they won't let me operate anymore." For some reason, this strikes Izzie as the saddest part of all. "I mean, I probably shouldn't have been in the hospital for the last like.. three weeks."
"How come you never said anything? About seeing Denny."
"I told Alex," Izzie says softly. "But, I don't know, he thought it was funny. I mean, not funny, but he didn't think it was serious. And I was so scared, that something was really, really wrong that I just... I made myself believe Denny really was real, and I didn't want to think about what was really going on."
"Oh, Izzie. My god," Meredith shakes her head.
"I'm sorry, I know.. it's a lot. But I didn't know what else to do."
Meredith shakes her head. "Iz, no. I'm your friend, I'm glad you told me. It's just, it doesn't.."
"Feel real?"
"Yeah."
"I know."
"I mean," Meredith breaks a Dorito in the half, orange power lingering on the tips of her fingers. "We get people in all the time that are sick with all these horrible diseases, sometimes they die and sometimes we cure them. But.. it's never anyone we know? Do you know what I mean?"
Izzie nods. "That's it. It's stupid, because we should, I mean, doctors especially, they should expect the worst, right? They should expect people they love to get sick, because the only people we ever freaking see are sick. But I don't, or.. I don't know, I didn't. But now, I am and I just, it doesn't feel real. And I'm worried it's not going to feel real until I'm lying, hooked up to a hundred machines and not even able to breathe by myself."
It's quiet, but not an uncomfortable quiet. Izzie guesses it is the kind of quiet that comes when you find out your friend is dying.
"Are you scared?" Meredith asks.
"About?"
"I don't know. All of it."
Izzie nods. "I'm.. I'm terrified. I've seen patients and they.. it just looks awful. Scary and painful and.. horrible." Izzie is fighting to keep her voice under control and the tears from clouding her eyes.
"Yeah."
In one way, it gratifies Izzie that Meredith doesn't try and deny this, doesn't try and say, "Well, I'm sure it's not that bad, and I'm sure you'll pull through." But in another way, it scares Izzie to death (which is a really goddamn ironic thing to think, but it's true.)
"I.. we'll be here," Meredith says. "You know, for you." Meredith gestures vaugely. Izzie knows Meredith well enough to know that she's not going to go into the whole 'feelings' thing right now. She knows this is her way of letting her know that she won't be alone.
"Okay," Izzie smiles gently at Meredith. Meredith returns the smile (not quite reaching all the way to her eyes, which are filled mostly with fear and worry and sadness.)
Conversation sort of falls away then, and they both fall asleep, sometime during the middle of Samantha's purchase of fake nipples, and Miranda's Marathon Man. Izzie has never watched the show before (she always said it was degrading to women, which was sort of funny, considering she used to model for Bethany Whisper) but now, lying there on the couch with Meredith, she's doing whatever she can to get her mind away from it all. And so she concentrates deeply on the show, trying to pretend like she really gives a shit about any of the characters and their fake nipples and marathon boyfriends.
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Izzie almost forgets, for an instant, when she wakes up. About telling Meredith and even, for a second, about her being sick. She has a gross taste in her mouth, one that comes from not brushing her teeth before bed, and her neck is cramped, from sleeping on the couch. It's early, five thirty, maybe. Her shift at the hospital starts at eight, and so she doesn't have to wake up, but she is going to, because there's no way she'll fall back asleep. Meredith must have gotten up, sometime during the night and gone to bed, because she's no longer beside her on the couch.
Izzie sits up a little straighter, cracks her neck and then settles back into the couch, resting her head on a stack of pillows. Oddly enough, Izzie feels very comfortable. It has been said that those who are dying are often very at peace with the world. Izzie tries to picture herself doing yoga in the OR, bending into Downward Dog, telling the Chief to "chill out" when he yells at her to leave. She smiles at the thought a little and then turns on her side.
"Izzie?"
Lexie's voice makes Izzie jump. "Hey," Izzie nods at Lexie, who is hovering around the breakfast bar. Lexie hovers a lot, Izzie notices. As though she's not quite sure if she belongs where she is or if maybe she should be somewhere else.
"Can't sleep?" Lexie guesses.
"Yeah," Izzie yawns. "Something like that. You?"
Lexie blushes. "I guess not. I'm hungry."
"It's six in the morning," Izzie smiles, watching as Lexie takes out a carton of yogourt and a slice of pizza.
"I've been on call and.. whatever, I'm hungry. Want some?" she waves the yogourt covered spoon around in the air, little flecks flying onto the counter.
"No thanks. I'll probably just go back to sleep," Izzie knows it's not true, she's not even tired anymore.
"Um, Doctor Stevens?"
At that moment, Lexie looks like a little girl who's trying hard to impress her teacher.
"Yeah?"
"I think you're a good teacher. I mean, some of the interns, a lot of them I guess, I know we bitch about you, and at you a lot, but we all think you're a good teacher," Lexie stares down at her plate, picking off a piece of pepperoni.
"Thanks, Lexie," Izzie nods, acknowledging the compliment. She's not sure what to say now, but she feels like she should say something.
"You're welcome," Lexie puts the carton back in the fridge and slides the pizza onto a piece of paper towel. "'Night, Izzie."
"Bye Lexie," Izzie watches Lexie retreat upstairs, and then she surprised herself by really falling asleep.
Her dreams are filled with talking pizza pieces that are dying out, fragments of dancing yogour, and are interrupted by Meredith and Alex getting up, rushing around the kitchen the way they do when they know they're going to be ridiculously late.
"Iz!" Alex tosses his shoe at her. "Get up."
And she's up, just like that. Meredith shoots Izzie a meaningful look. Izzie can't tell if it's saying "Why the hell are you going to work" or "Tell Alex" or "I feel bad because you are dying." Whatever it is, Izzie didn't have much time to dwell on it because just like that, they were heading out of the house, into their cars and to the hospital.
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Izzie was trying to be patient. She really was. But she had been sitting outside on the trailer stoop, with an old colouring book and a packet of 24 Crayola Magic Markers, coloring a picture of a clown. Clowns scared her mom (Izzie was never allowed to call her Mommy) but Izzie secretly liked them. She thought maybe when she grew up, she would like to be a clown.
Her mom had had a boy over last night, she was pretty sure of that. Izzie's mom went out a lot. She told Izzie she felt bad about it, and she always left Izzie money for a pizza, and a few cans of Coke in the fridge, but she always told her that she had to have time to herself. Izzie wasn't quite sure what that meant, because after all she was only six, but she figured her mom had a good reason for leaving the house. She just wished, sometimes, that she wouldn't stay out so late, and come back with weird men that were loud and smelled funny.
Izzie held a faded yellow marker in her fingers, concentrating on the clown's frizzy hair, when two women who lived at the trailer park, Josie and Holly, walked past. Holly was walking her dog, it was a tiny little brown one that Izzie could probably fit into a grocery bag. One time, Izzie told her mom she wanted a dog like that, and Izzie's mom told Izzie she was stupid and that those dogs were small and prissy. Well, she hadn't said prissy, she'd said another word, a bad word that Izzie wasn't allowed to repeat.
"You know," Josie said, puffing on a cigarette. Izzie's mom smoked cigarettes, and Izzie hated them. One time a woman came into their school and gave a presentation about how smoking killed you. It scared Izzie so bad, she threw all her mom's cigarettes in the trash can. She got in big trouble for that. "You know who I feel sorry for?"
"Who?" Holly asked.
"That little Isobel Stevens."
Izzie stopped coloring. She was hoping maybe Holly would say, "Why? Why would you ever feel sorry for her?"
But Holly didn't. Instead, she said, "Completely. She is going to grow up and be exactly like her mother."
"It's a shame, really, she's so sweet and pretty," Josie stomped on her cigarette.
"She'll be an alcoholic, some dirty woman that sleeps around." Holly shook her head, and sighed softly.
Izzie knew a lot of words, because sometimes when she couldn't sleep she took out the old dictionary they had lying around, and read it. Izzie would read mostly anything she could get her hands on. But she didn't know what those words meant; an alcoholic. Someone that slept around. So she picked up her coloring book and her Magic Markers and went inside. On purpose, she slammed the door of the trailer extra loud, hoping that Holly and Josie would hear.
"Mom?" Izzie didn't want to be too loud, in case her mom was still asleep. She got angry sometimes, when Izzie woke her up before lunchtime. Carefully, Izzie made her way into the hallway, stepping over a pile of dirty laundry. She stuck her head into her mom's room and saw that she was sitting up in her bed. It made Izzie feel better that she was by herself.
"Hey Mom," Izzie said, smiling.
"Hey, sunshine," Mom smiled and patted a spot on her bed. Izzie liked days like this, when her mom wasn't up too late and was in a good mood.
"Mom?" Izzie asked. "What's an alcoholic?"
"What?"
"What's an alcoholic?" Izzie repeated.
"Who said that to you?"
"Um. Josie and Holly. But they didn't say it at me. They just said it."
"Did they say it about someone?"
"Nuh-uh," Izzie chewed on the inside of her cheek. "They just said it. So what's it mean?"
"You sure?"
"Yup." Izzie said, knowing it was better just to lie a little bit. Once, a woman at the trailer park named Linda had been talking mean about her mom. Izzie told her, and her mom cried for a whole day.
"Alright. An alchoholic is somebody who drinks a lot of beer, or wine, or any other kind of alcohol. Like how I have a beer sometimes. It's like that, only the person can't ever stop drinking, they feel like they have to do it a lot." Mom explained. Izzie nodded. Her heart hurt. Because this sounded a lot like her Mom.
"Okay, now why don't you go back into the living room and watch cartoons, and I'll be up in a little bit. I'm gonna shower."
"Can I brush your hair?"
"Sure, cricket."
Izzie went and sat in the living room. She pretended to turn the TV on, only it had been dead for a couple weeks. It was old and beat up, and Izzie didn't want to tell her mom, because it cost her money to fix the TV, and money meant that she had to have a job. Whenver Izzie mentioned jobs to her mom, she got real mad and sometimes screamed at her. Sometimes she worked, but it was always after dinner until the next morning and Izzie had to stay in the trailer all alone. It scared her.
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Izzie does not know why she has that particular memory at that moment; standing in line to buy her salad in the cafeteria. She doesn't know why it makes her feel like crying. Or, maybe she does a little bit. Maybe it's because she is going to have to call her mom and explain to her that she had, give or take a little while, three months to live. Izzie has not seen her mother in.. a long time. And while their relationship was strained (strained is being kind, it's more like their relationship is obliterated), she is not a cold and heartless bitch. She is not looking forward to calling up her mother and telling her that her only child is dying.