View From The Other Side by Adeline (gossy16@yahoo

View From The Other Side by Adeline (gossy16@yahoo.com)


DISCLAIMER: The characters we are all familiar with do not belong to me. The story and the people whom we are not familiar with do.

NOTES: Well, I'm really into first-person narratives... ;] Patient's relative POV. Title's borrowed from the Duncan Sheik song, although the content of the story has nothing to do with it.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Oh God, oh God, oh God! Please let him be okay, please...

I found him slumped over the sink, bleeding himself out a little over two hours ago. Called 911 right away, before the harshness of the event sunk in, while I was still able to think. The EMTs were here very shortly, but only God knows how long it had been since he... since he had slit his wrists.

Then we got to the hospital. Cook County was closest, so that's where they brought him, and I tagged along. A doctor and two nurses were waiting for us outside. My vision was blurred and everything just sort of floated before me, but I remember the face of the doctor. It had this expression
that anyone could instantly recognize, even on total strangers. It said 'Aw, shit!' The dark-haired nurse was about seven years younger than me, I'd say, and I hope the look of compassion that crossed her face when I met her eyes was genuine. The other nurse, older, just looked very sad.

They took him inside as fast as possible and rushed him to a trauma room. Way too fast, way too slow. What if I never see him alive again, what if I can never talk to him? They asked me all the questions I'd already answered in the ambulance, and then some more. And I dutifully repeated
everything, for his sake and for my own. I did my best to articulate clearly through the sobs and shudders shaking me beyond control.

Then they told me to wait outside. A nurse stayed there to keep me company, while I watched through the window as a couple more doctors came to help. I didn't need company, I needed to know my son would be okay. All those beeping noises and the shuffling around in the room, the orders
shouted, the instructions given were driving me out of my mind. A different nurse passed me by and entered the room, carrying O-type blood bags. I wanted to scream, and I did. 'Nurse Adams' - so her name tag read, took it as her cue to lead me out of the hall and told me to go home and wait for
their call. "That was the best thing to do."

But I couldn't. God, I couldn't! I mean... I couldn't just... leave... knowing he was lying there in the next room, between life and death. If there's any chance he will wake up, I want to be there. And if they can't save him, I want to be there until his very last breath is breathed. But, hey, I'll keep hope. All those doctors have studied hard and have comendable degrees, I know they are all highly skillful. And surely, they must have seen tons of similar cases. They know how to cope with this, I'm sure they do.

So, I'm sitting here in Chairs, mostly staring into thin air, alone with my thoughts. From time to time, I emerge from them long enough to recognize one of the doctors and nurses who worked on him passing by and attending other patients, heading back in the direction they took my son earlier.
There's only three of them that I assume are still with him.

An hour ago or so, Dr. Malucci said they had stabilized him. Of course he had to add that it didn't mean much and that his case was still very critical. I was allowed to see him, if I didn't stay too long, so I went. He looked peaceful, as if he was asleep. That reminded me that I haven't actually seen him sleeping in over two years, when we all went camping in Idaho, and a hot tear escaped me at the thought of that very thing. Then I had to leave his room.

He has lost a lot of blood, nurse Marquez explained to me, and his heart was consequently weakened. But I try to not let that ruin my re-gained hopefulness. He is going to be all right, he has to!

I don't understand why he tried to... do that, in the first place. I know I'm not the World's Best Mom, but I can't be the worst... I've been working a lot lately, that is true, oftentimes coming home way past dinner time. He'd always leave me something in the microwave, and sometimes there was a note on the table when he was out or sleeping already. 'Going to the movies with Jim tomorrow after dinner. Just thought I'd let you know.' And I've missed a significant game here and there this season... Actually, I've
missed about every important game, except for the County Championship finale, which his team won. They went into town to celebrate and I didn't see much of him that night either.

He was a good kid. No, he is a good kid, he IS! I am so proud of him in so many respects, and I need to tell him. He needs to know. I thought he knew, but now I guess not. If only I'd been paying more attention, if I'd been more considerate... I don't believe things would ever have come to this. God, please... don't him die, God.

I keep on praying silently, and occasionally attempt to read a magazine to distract myself, but it is no use. I won't get my mind off of this until it's over. I'm at my third cup of coffee. I'm tired, but I can't sleep like this.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


"Mrs. Williams?"

That's me. I slowly rise to my feet in apprehension. Dr, Greene walks closer to me with a serious look on his face, and takes me aside where we can have what little privacy is available in this kind of place. Oh, God, please let it be good news, please!

"Mrs. Williams... I have sad news about your son."

I gasp and bring a hand to my face as I feel tears building.

"Your son came in with half his normal blood volume, and an alarmingly low blood pressure..."

What is he getting at, this doesn't mean a thing to me, and I'm hating this bad feeling in my gut.

"His case was of a seriousness rarely seen, and in spite of our multiple efforts to save him..."

Oh my God, no! No, no, no...

"His heart failed and we were unable to rescuscitate him... He died. I'm sorry..."

No... no! My everything's gone, and my world crashes down around me. The tears are now flowing freely. No... My hope, my faith, are destroyed in a fleeting second.

I hate myself for this. I want to hate everything, I want to hate everyone, I want to hate all the nurses and doctors who work here, I want to hate this 'Mark Greene, M.D'... but I'm not. The only feeling toward him is one of unending gratefulness. Errol Williams, 17, wanted to die, and Errol
Williams, 17, died. I know this Dr. Greene truly did his best, as did his colleagues. I forgive him easily.

"Thank you"

But I'll never forgive myself.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

THE END. That's all, folks. :) I know this was a different kind of fic,
but what did you think? Let me know!

~Adeline.