Hillwood Medical
Disclaimer: don't own Hey Arnold or ER, the inspirations behind this story. Nickelodeon and NBC do.
This is my first fan-fic. I will try to be as accurate as possible with the medical terminology but please don't be mad if it's not 100 correct. This fan-fic will be written as individual episodes which have a general continuity but will each have its own subplot, like a TV series.
Episode 1: 12 Hours
He always enjoyed the walk from his apartment to the hospital. It was a chance for him to clear his mind, to relax before the day became too hectic.
Sometimes, he would pause and gaze at the sights of the city. So much had changed and yet there was a part of it that still remained the same place he knew as a 9 year old kid. Kids were still playing sports on GeraldField. The same stores were still open. Hillwood managed to have enough amenities from the bigger cities while still retaining its small town appeal.
He had changed as much as his city. He was taller now and his head wasn't as odd-shaped as before. His blond hair was closely cropped and he wore rimless glasses due to hours spent reading textbooks with very fine print. The boyish optimism and compassion that a certain someone had appreciated so much was still present but tempered by experience.
It was 5 years ago that he returned for his grand-father's funeral. His grand-mother had passed away from cancer a year ago. She left peacefully, her last words being how happy she would be now that she could shoot spitballs at Phil again.
He had just completed his residency at the Yale Medical Center and was looking for a job. His wife had just given birth to a little boy and they decided that they wanted him to grow up in their hometown. She was studying for the bar-exam and he was accepted as the senior attending physician at Hillwood Memorial. Life was certainly looking good at this point.
A gust of cold wind snapped him out of his reverie and he shivered, pulling his coat tighter. He quickened his pace as he could see that he was near the hospital. Hillwood Memorial was a real marvel. Always overcrowded and often understaffed, it still managed to provide quality healthcare for the community.
He noticed that the ER was quiet and the few residents and nurses were dozing off, trying to catch any sleep that they could get.
"Hey, no rest for the weary," he said jokingly, snapping his fingers at the tired nurse at the admit desk.
"What? Oh, I'm sorry, Dr. Greene."
He smiled and waved it off.
"Just giving you a hard time, Sheena. Why don't you head off now, Nadine should be here any minute."
"You've already made my day."
"Glad to be of help."
He continued walking until he reached the locker room. As he entered, he noticed that someone was already hard at work filling out next month's schedule.
"Always early, eh, Phoebe?"
"Well, we can't expect these timesheets to fill themselves out now, can we?"
He chuckled at her remark. Phoebe had also changed since their childhood. She let her hair fall down to her shoulders and replaced her glasses with contacts. She also acquired a greater sense of confidence while still preserving the loyalty and intelligence that made her who she was. That's comes with the job of being chief of emergency medicine.
"Gerald still asleep?" he asked while changing into his scrubs.
"Snoring away."
"Hey, who says I snore?" retorted a voice from the doorway growing closer.
"You do, honey," laughed Phoebe as Gerald playfully tickled her. He kissed the top of her head and did his secret hand-shake with Arnold. He was a trauma surgeon and somewhat of a flamboyant character, combining the cool bravado of someone who helped others cheats death with quiet intensity and humility.
Arnold sipped his coffee and smiled at their intimacy. It had been a while since he and his wife could share a simple pleasure like that; they were always on the run and their paths hardly ever crossed.
"Dr. Greene?"
"Yeah."
"4 year old girl complaining of ear pain, running a temperature of 102."
"Ok, I'm on it."
He followed Nadine into Exam Room 1. Inside was a visibly nervous brown-haired girl sitting on the examining bed while her mother was trying to comfort her. He knelt down so that he and the girl were on the same level.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Greene. What's your name?"
"Haley."
"Well, Haley, it looks like you've got yourself a little ear infection."
"Am I going to die?" Haley asked seriously.
"Haley!" snapped the mother.
"It's all right", smiled Arnold understandingly. "You're not going to die; in fact you're going to make these germs wish they never came near you." He turned to Nadine, "Why don't you give her some Tylenol for the fever and I'll write up a prescription for amoxicillin, 80 mg per day for 10 days." Nadine nodded and left to get the Tylenol.
Arnold turned to the little girl and smiled as he wrote the prescription. "You know that you're named after a famous comet right?" The little girl nodded her head. "Well, if you take this medicine, you'll be able to see that comet the next time it comes around." The mother smiled looked at him with a grateful glance. "Just give this to Nadine when she comes back, and you're all set. Nice to meet you Haley."
As he left the exam room, he nearly collided into a short, stout, and balding man also clad in scrubs and a white lab coat.
"Watch it, Greene!"
"Sorry, Vince."
Vincent Wartz shook his head in disgust and stormed off. He was the spitting image of his father, the former principal of P.S. 118. As the chief trauma surgeon and a member of the hospital's board of directors, he wielded tremendous authority and wasn't afraid to use it.
"Phoebe!"
She looked up from her schedule and reacted quickly to catch a large manila envelope thrown at her face.
"Here's the CV of a new trauma surgeon who'll be flying in tomorrow morning. Read it over, pick her up at the airport, take her out to dinner, you know, all that stuff."
"Isn't this technically under your domain Vince?"
"It's your ER, unless you want me to make that under my domain."
Phoebe sighed, "Ok, Vince, I'll see what I can do."
"Good. Oh, there's an old man waiting in room 2 complaining of abdominal pain." With that, he turned around and walked off as quickly as he had come. Gerald rolled his eyes, but they were used to Wartz's act.
"Debbie? I was wondering if you would accompany me to exam room 2." The nurse nodded affirmatively.
Phoebe grabbed the chart and entered the room. "Mr. Potemikin?" she asked quietly, "I'm Dr. Heyerdahl. I heard that you have quite a bellyache." The old man growled and turned his nose up. His son tried to reassure him with a pat on the shoulder.
"I've been waiting here for almost half an hour and no one even bothered to come see me."
"Well, I'm sorry Mr. Potemikin but as you can see we are a bit understaffed."
"Bah, I remember when doctors made house calls. Now all you care about is the money and we the patients suffer."
"Dad, please. Just let Dr. Heyerdahl do her job."
"She is not God, none of them are."
Phoebe remained silent throughout the exchange. Mr. Potemikin had a point; too many doctors were arrogant to the point of dismissing patient concerns as trivial.
"Now, Mr. Potemikin, can you tell me where the pain is exactly?"
"Bah, I don't need this. Ivan, we're going home; it's just a stomach ache."
"Dad." Turning to Phoebe, "It's on his lower right side of his stomach."
"Any fever?"
"Yes, a mild one."
"How long has he had this pain?"
"It's been about 3 hours."
"I'm telling you, it was the borscht."
"Hmm, Mr. Potemikin, it looks like you have a case of appendicitis. I'm going to recommend an ultrasound to make sure, but most likely, we'll have to remove that appendix."
Phoebe turned to Debbie, "Why don't you call radiology and get him in for an abdominal x-ray also? I'll let you handle the ultrasound, but I think it's a safe bet to let the OR know that they have another patient coming in." As Debbie left to make the call, she turned to Mr. Potemikin.
"You're going to be all right. It's a very routine procedure and you should be out of the hospital within 1 or 2 days." He grumbled, but Phoebe cut in, "You know when you're out, I'd really like to try your borscht." She smiled and the son chuckled at his father's surprised expression at those words. "Thank you Dr. Heyerdahl." She nodded her head and quietly walked out.
"You got a grumpy one?" Arnold said, smiling, as he fell into step.
"Yeah, but I kind of like the grumpy ones. They're good for variety."
Their conversation was broken up when paramedics wheeled in a teenager who looked as if he had been playing baseball. He was unconscious and hemorrhaging badly from the skull. Following the EMT's was a visibly shaken older man also dressed in a baseball uniform.
"What do we have?"
"14 year old pitcher took a baseball right to the head, decreasing level of consciousness."
Arnold shined a pen-light into the boy's eyes. "Pupils dilated, we need to intubate."
On cue, Gerald appeared, tilted the boy's head back, and inserted the breathing tube. "Ok, let's give him 20 ccs of lidocaine for the ICP," he barked. "CT scan to check for any brain damage. Let's move it people."
"Excuse me, is my grandson going to be all right? Please, you've got to let me know."
"Sir, we won't know if he has any brain damage until after the CT scans. He might have to undergo surgery to reduce the swelling inside his skull. We'll let you know." With that, Gerald, Nadine, and 2 orderlies wheeled the boy into the elevator.
Arnold turned to the old man who wore an ashen expression.
"How about we talk in the waiting room?" The man nodded and they walked slowly, wordlessly to the empty seats. Arnold poured 2 cups of coffee for them and sat next to him. The old man held his head in his hands and started breaking down.
"This was all my fault; he said he wanted to be taken out, said that his arm wasn't feeling as strong and he was losing some zip on his fast-ball. I told him to suck it up and just get out of the inning. I still remember that pitch; the ball seemed to hang in the strike zone for an eternity and the sound of the ball hitting his head; God I don't think I'll ever forget that." His words started fading into sobs; Arnold put his hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture.
"This could have happened to anyone anytime. It was a freak accident, and you can't blame yourself."
"Yes, I can. I've been a coach all my life. I've coached everything from basketball to bowling, even synchronized swimming. I should know when a player needs to leave the game. But I was too proud; I wanted my grandson to throw a no-hitter and look what happened."
At the words "synchronized swimming", Arnold raised an eyebrow. It couldn't be, could it?
"Coach Wittenberg?"
The old man looked up, a bit confused.
"Coach Wittenberg, it's me, Arnold. You coached us in basketball, bowling, and synchronized swimming. I was best man at your second wedding with Tish." The old man's eyes lit up at the mention of those memories.
"Arnold? Wow, you've sure grown up nicely. I never thought I'd see you back here."
"I wouldn't worry about your grandson; he's in good hands with Gerald Johanssen."
"That's Gerald? I guess I really haven't seen you guys in a long time. You kids turned out all-right. I guess I knew that when you guys learned synchronized swimming."
As he was talking, a white haired lady entered the room, eyes red from crying. Coach Wittenberg stood up and went over to her.
"Tish!" He hugged her tightly.
"Is he going to be ok? He's not going to die is he?" she said between sobs.
"I don't think so. We've got some good doctors here taking care of him." He winked at Arnold. Arnold smiled and quietly left them.
Gerald breathed a sigh of relief as he walked out of the elevator. The CT scans showed no permanent brain damage. Now, it was just a waiting game to see if the boy needed surgery to reduce the swelling.
"Hey, how'd they turn out?"
"No brain damage, thank god."
"That's the best news I've heard all day. You know that guy is Coach Wittenberg?"
"Really, synchronized swimming Wittenberg?"
"The one and the same."
"Well, this should be interesting." Gerald walked off towards the waiting room.
"Dr. Greene!" The voice bellowed from Troy, the burly desk clerk.
"What is it, Troy?"
"Your wife just called; she's going to be working late on some case; she says she's sorry and not to wait up for her."
Arnold sighed. It was going to be another one of those nights. "Ok, thanks, Troy." He didn't have time to feel sorry for himself though; there was an elderly woman in room 1 complaining of diarrhea.
"Mr. Potemikin?" Phoebe knocked gently on the door. He was now resting in recovery after a successful appendectomy. "It's me, Dr. Heyerdahl. I just wanted to see how you were doing." The old man grunted. "You should be able to leave the hospital as early as tomorrow. Just rest up." As she turned to leave, he coughed as he tried to speak.
"You, you come over for borscht anytime."
Phoebe smiled. "I might just take you up on that offer."
"So he's not going to need surgery?"
"Well, we're not sure yet Mrs. Wittenberg, we're going to keep him overnight for observation and let the medicine work. If the swelling decreases, then we won't need to operate. You're welcome to stay with him overnight in our guest quarters."
"Thanks, Dr. Johanssen." Gerald smiled and got up to leave when Coach Wittenberg spoke up.
"Gerald, I already told this to Arnold, but you two really turned out all right. Guess you didn't forget what I taught you in synchronized swimming." Gerald chuckled.
"Guess we didn't, Coach."
"Troy, I'm going to call it a day. Tell Phoebe I'll see her tomorrow." Arnold walked past the help desk into the locker-room. He removed his scrubs changed back into his regular clothes. "Tell the Wittenbergs good luck for me." Troy nodded and waved.
It was always a longer walk back. The night air was always colder and the walk was always longer when he knew that he would be sleeping alone that night. He sighed as he climbed the stairs up to his apartment.
"I'm home! Where are you short-man?"
"Hi, daddy!" A brown-haired little boy, no older than 6 with an oddly shaped head ran towards his father and leapt into his arms.
"I missed you too short-man. You eat dinner yet?"
"Yeah, Suzy came over and made spaghetti."
"Suzy?" A middle aged, blond haired woman emerged from the kitchen.
"Hey, Arnold, it's good to see you again."
"Suzy, we can't keep asking you to do this every time one of us is out."
"It's all right Arnold, I really don't mind. It gives me a chance to get away from Oskar for a while."
"You're a real saint, Suzy," laughed Arnold.
"There's some spaghetti and meatballs left in the kitchen and I also made a salad and some garlic bread."
"You've done too much. Please, let me give you something." Arnold took out his wallet. Suzy held up her hand.
"You know, that I couldn't accept anything. You and your grandparents have been so good to us. To all of us. So I better be going so that you can settle down. Bye, Sean!" Suzy picked up her coat and walked out the door.
Arnold smiled at Suzy's kindness. He hung up his coat and headed into the kitchen. He took a clean plate from the dish rack and filled it with the spaghetti and meat sauce, a piece of bread, and some salad. He poured himself a glass of water. Sean was still watching cartoons.
"You still hungry short-man?"
"Can I have some cookies then?"
"You can have an apple."
"Then, I'm not hungry."
Arnold laughed and sat down next to his son.
"You done all your homework?"
"Yeah, Suzy made sure I did before I could watch TV."
"What's on tonight?" Arnold asked between bites of his dinner.
"Spiderman."
"I like Spiderman." As he turned towards the TV, his eyes caught a small photograph on the mantel. It was a picture of the three of them at the cheese fair. Sean was three when it was taken. She wore her hair in pigtails just the way she did when they were nine, when he first "like-liked" her.
"Daddy?" Sean looked at his father intently. Arnold shook his head.
"Sorry, just daydreaming. Let's watch Spiderman."
Phoebe sat in bed holding the manila folder Wartz had gave her.
"Hey, I thought we didn't bring our work home." Gerald slid in and kissed her hair.
"I never got to look at it earlier."
"Can't you just read it tomorrow?"
"She's coming in tomorrow morning."
"Oh." Gerald paused. "You think she's hot?"
"Gerald!"
"Sorry, sorry." Phoebe shook her head in mock disgust and opened the envelope. When she saw the name, her eyes widened and she looked closer to see if she was seeing it correctly.
"Oh, my."
"What?" Gerald asked. Phoebe handed him the envelope. His eyes widened as well.
"Oh, my."