No one knows how to describe a sickness better than a doctor. We can predict and know what happened, how, it's speed of growth and most importantly, if you'll survive it or not. But then again, doctors don't understand what it feels like to be on the other side of the table, sitting impatiently waiting for news you never thought you'd receive in your life. Even with a horrible family history of diseases, the idea might cross your mind a dozen of times before you doze off at night yet you still end up surprised when someone tells you about a tumor growing on the side of your brain and eating it the same way a little bunny nibbles on a carrot.
It was a very quiet day at the hospital; night shifts were the best when you were sleep deprived and weren't in the mood to do anything but steal a blanket from a patient and lie dead asleep on the floor in the middle of the hallway. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat again, knowing that I was being too fussy since the chair described heaven itself. When my sweet brother Derek was head of the department, he went and bought himself an expensive ass chair since he constantly complained that he'd get disc someday and it was the chair's entire fault. Never in my life had I been thankful that Derek actually went out and did something after biting our ears off about it, it was less of a hassle for me because I'm positive I would've done the exact same thing.
I threw my medical magazine on the table and sighed, rubbing my temples. Normally around this time I would find any intern and start asking them questions about anything medical just to see them ponder uncomfortably in my presence until a resident brushes me off, but I wasn't in the mood for too many questions from curious hopeful interns. I remember my days as an intern and how I would annoy my resident with questions, even the ones I knew the answer to, just to annoy her. My other fellow interns thought it was childish and an act of desperation but it was nothing close. They all despised me for being a year or two younger than the majority of them, having graduated a year early from university. Before I was able to process where my legs took me, I looked around and saw all the little infants in their incubators. I smiled to myself, remembering when a friend of mine from L.A had given birth to triplets and how she stared at her first-born daughter from the other side of the window before going to give birth to the other two. I felt someone's arms wrap around my waist and I sighed, leaning my head on his shoulder. "Hey there."
"Hey you," Owen cooed, pulling me closer. He stood quietly for a couple of seconds and observed the room filled with infants. "What're you doing here? Checking on a patient?"
I didn't say anything for a while, still too busy wrapped around my thoughts of when I was pregnant. I don't talk about that time of my life anymore since it physically hurts me to remember my little son. I think about him a lot and how my life would be completely different if he had lived; he lives all around me and every single day I'm embraced by his presence. I held on to Owen's hands, hoping this pile of emotions go away as fast as they've arrived. "No reason, really. I couldn't sit in my office and read another article about this clinical trial where they implant a pacemaker in the brain and hope that it slows down the memory loss in Alzheimer patients."
Owen smiled to himself; knowing how much Amelia was downplaying her excitement. After all, she was the girl who would scream in happiness after a successful surgery. "How's it been going?"
"They haven't released the results yet," I replied, turning around to finally get a good look of Owen. He didn't look as exhausted as he normally did but he looked completely out of it. I grabbed his shirt's collar and smiled at him, "You know, if I was at Johns Hopkins right now instead of Grey Sloan, I could've been apart of that clinical trial…"
Owen pushed her playfully and slowly started walking away. He was well aware of the fact that she enjoyed playing around and saying stuff like that but it really bothered him because he knew that Amelia would leave if she really wanted to. Who was he to tie her down? He's been with her for nearly seven months now and he still lives in fear every day that if he said something wrong, she'll pack her bags and fly off to some other state. It was a horrible thing to say and he felt guilty for even thinking like that but unfortunately it was true. He knew it and so did she.
"Hey, I was kidding!" she said, grabbing his arm to stop him. She repeatedly slapped herself for saying that, she knew how that thought occupied his mind constantly. She was upset that he talked to Callie about it rather than saying it to her but she understood where he came from. She would've done the exact same thing. She touched his cheeks lightly and stroked it, thinking about her next words very carefully. "You know I would never leave you for some clinical trial that doesn't even cure the disease itself. I shouldn't have said that, it was a dumb thing to say and I need you to trust me and listen to me when I tell you that I'm not going anywhere anytime soon as long as you're willing to handle me and manage being in my presence."
He smiled back at her and kissed her, trying to put all his emotions into that kiss. They were still new to one another and he didn't want to scare her off by letting her know how much he loved her so he put all that in one kiss. Their foreheads remained attached and she stroked his hair slowly, playing and twisting the ones that would instantly curl around her finger. "Now that you point it out, Shepherd… I think I'm slowly starting to handle being in the same room with you."
She laughed and punched his shoulder lightly, pulling away from him and walking back to her office with a little twinkle in her eye. He shook his head as soon as he felt his phone vibrate and held it up for her to see. Before she could do anything, she felt the slight buzz come from her pocket too and sighed. Maybe she should've enjoyed the peace and quiet before the storm.
Sudden emergencies rarely happen at night and most of the time, they have something to do with drunk reckless drivers. I exhaled deeply before running towards Kepner, who originally paged me for a consult. "What's up?"
"Alexander Morrison, 18 years old, was in a car crash and is injured horribly. His verbal response is weak and I just ordered a CT which should be here any second now. He also had a seizure a few minutes ago." Kepner said as she removed her gloves before looking at me. "Stay here, will you? We don't have many hands on deck and I have to go see the driver."
"I've got it," I reassured her, checking his pupils and studying the CT scan. "Alex, can you hear me? I'm Doctor Shepherd. How are you feeling?" He attempted to give her an answer but it was slurred and difficult to understand, she already knew that it was no good.
"Hey, you got this?" Owen dropped by, opening the curtain slightly to take a look.
"Oh good, you're here. I need an OR right now; I've got a Cerebral Contusion and Intracerebral Hematoma. I need to control the bleeding in and around the brain as soon as I can. Are any of the OR's free?"
"OR 1 is free, Bailey just finished her surgery ten minutes ago. I'll ask them to get it prepped for you." Owen walked in the room and looked at the young boy, hoping to god that he doesn't bleed out on the table or any time soon. "Hey buddy, you'll be alright. Don't worry, you're in good hands."
"How'd your surgery go?" Owen asked as he threw himself on the couch, pulling me towards him and kissing my cheek. I snuggled to him and placed a light kiss on his neck, keeping my face there and inhaling his scent. Sometimes I truly wish I could sit at home and do nothing besides study him and memorize every single thing about him. I want to memorize the way his curls wrap around my finger, the way his eyes twinkle with mischief when he has something planned, the way he scratches the back of his neck when he's nervous, the way he pulls on his fingers when he's frustrated, the way his voice gets stern when he's bossing people around, the way his forehead crinkles when I talk about a scan I saw earlier at the hospital, the way his eyes watch me with interest and curiosity, the way he licks his lips before eating a brownie, the way he looks at children, the way his muscles flex whenever he attempts to sweep me off my feet (literally) and especially the way he kisses me with every ounce of emotion. I never pegged myself to be that girl who hugged her boyfriend's clothes when he wasn't home just to feel like he's there for her, if not physically, but emotionally. I was a pile of goo for this man.
"As good as it gets." I mumbled, kissing his neck once again. My shift was over in fifteen minutes but I decided to stay at the hospital, I didn't want to go home just yet.
Owen seemed to notice what I had planned. He played with my hair, kissing the top of my head before saying anything, "You could leave now if you want. It's been a long day and by the time you prepare your things, your shift would be over." He knew me too well. He constantly told me that my body language spoke to him better than I did.
"I'm fine siting over here." I shrugged and pulled away, grabbing a cookie that Wilson made and handed it to Owen. "You know you want it."
"Of course I do." He answered, pulling the cookie from my hand and eating a bite from it. He rolled his eyes at how perfectly well Wilson had made them, it had a rough and crisp exterior but the inside only consisted of gooey chocolate with the addiction of a tiny chocolate chip on top. Amelia often joked and said that she paid Wilson to bake some cookies whenever I got cranky since she knew that a full stomach would make a happy Owen. He grabbed her hands and placed it on his lap, intertwining their fingers. "What's up, Mia?"
"Nothing's up, why'd you think so?" He knew she was hiding something immediately. Her voice went an octave lower and she dropped her eyes, watching their fingers instead. Vulnerability wasn't their strong piece in the relationship, they both ran away from their feelings and avoided it as much as possible but ever since they started dating, both made it clear that they could come clean about almost anything. She caressed his hand softy and smiled to herself, wondering how she got so lucky. They started off rough, screams and insults thrown at each other in front of their colleagues and in the middle of an OR. It was all pent up frustration and it was all released one night in an on call room. After months of sleeping around and resenting each other for unknown reasons to the both of them, things seemed to sail smoothly. She stopped pushing him away and leaned to him for comfort instead; he stopped throwing all his frustration at her and accepted that maybe they could work well. They worked well, very well in his opinion. They were almost too good to be true. Almost. Imperfections were also better than something flawless because then you knew that it was human, it was real and it wasn't some rouse your brain couldn't seem to comprehend. He nudged her shoulder and she bit her cheek, silently debating whether she should say anything. "I went to the NICU today and it was a lot to take, you know? I'm glad you were there to temporarily take my mind off it. I appreciate it."
He gave her hands a little squeeze and urged her to continue, "You know that I'll try my best to come whenever you need someone. Even if you just need me to sit next to you, you could page me. You know that, right?"
"I do," she smiled at him, grateful that she had someone like him in her life. "It made me think a lot, even if I only stood there for minutes before you arrived. I never gave him a name, you know? I didn't want to get attached to someone who was going to be ripped away from me the second I could finally get a glimpse of him. In the beginning, I didn't talk to him. I ignored his kicks and pretended like I didn't have a human growing inside of me but it got harder as time went on. I promised myself I wouldn't get attached but I did, Owen. The second I saw his face, I already knew that he had my heart and soul. He was my baby and I held him for less than five minutes. I looked at my baby for less than five minutes. It was only us for five minutes, for three hundred seconds, for three hundred thousand milliseconds. I walk around town every day, look at little children every day and wondering if they're the ones my son helped save. I have their contact information… every single one of their parents… and I could call any day to see how they're doing but I don't want to. I can't. I can't allow myself to get attached to those children. My son lives in them every day, he helps them go through life smoothly whether he helped them with a bit of skin, nerves or even his heart. He's in them, Owen and I wonder what would happen if I ever see them one day and know that they're one of those kids, how would I handle it?" Owen remained quiet, occasionally stroking my hand and kissing my head. I pulled myself back to his embrace and sighed, closing my eyes in hopes that these thoughts would stop clouding my thoughts. "I never gave him a name. He deserved a name."
"Give him one then," Owen said, as if it was such a normal thing to say. We sat there in silence for nearly an hour before someone entered the lounge, surprised to see us seated on the couch. The attending nodded her head at us as a greeting and poured a cup of coffee before making herself comfortable.
"Ryan." I announced after a long time. Owen seemed to have fallen asleep on my shoulder and I smiled at him before moving my shoulder to wake him up.
"Hmm?" He asked, still half asleep.
"His name is Ryan."
Owen smiled to himself, despite his half asleep state. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, determined to go back to his previous comfortable position. He was about to doze off again but mumbled something before, hoping it wasn't as slurred as it seemed. "Ryan Shepherd. It has a ring to it." Amelia laughed and ruffled his hair, leaning back and closing her eyes with a smile on her face.
I had a front seat view to death. I was accustomed to all types of deaths, from the ones that were expected to the ones that were completely unexpected. Death had a funny way of showing up and screwing with everyone's lives. Being exposed to death makes you learn that you can't escape death and that's something everyone fails to learn. Hell, I would also be in denial. It's a natural response after all.
I died once, for three excruciatingly long minutes before my brother revived me and brought me back to my miserable life. At the time, I didn't know the true value of life nor did I appreciate it. I wasn't scared of death either but so many people aren't until it's standing right in front of you, staring at your face. Death is funny; it has a sense of humor that cannot be ignored.
"Where's Owen?" Adeline asked, tapping her foot impatiently. We scheduled an appointment and Owen is already ten minutes late. I sighed and decided to start off without him, he must've had an emergency and couldn't make it.
Before Adeline had the chance to interject, Owen slammed the door and entered, exhaling roughly and putting his hands in the air. "I made it! I know I'm late but there were some technical difficulties and I couldn't seem to find anyone to help but I'm here now."
Amelia shook her head at his antics and scooted, giving him some place to sit on the bed. He kissed her and sat down, placing his arm around her shoulders and mumbling apologizes in her ear. She knew he had a tough schedule and she appreciated the fact that he made it, on time or not. Adeline nodded at the both of them and checked her phone once again before clearing her throat and continuing, "I was hoping the other doctor would be here any time soon."
Owen darted his gaze between both women and asked, his voice laced with worry and confusion. "Other doctor?" Two doctors in a room always meant the worst but Adeline brushed it off, giving him some lame excuse they normally use on patients.
He waited anxiously until a tall blonde female walked in, smiling at them both and introducing herself. "I'm Dr. Cooper and I heard that both of you are doctors here as well?" She asked as she flipped through Amelia's charts.
"Amelia's the head of the neuro department and I'm the chief of surgery. I never had the pleasure of meeting you before, welcome to the hospital." Owen mumbled his practiced greeting, something he's done so many times it's practically drilled in his brain. Amelia noticed his state of unease and rubbed his knee reassuringly, reminding him that everything will be okay.
"It's a nice change from Hopkins," she lightly joked and Amelia brightened at the mention of the hospital, probably ready to shoot questions about the Alzheimer clinical trial she was so invested in. "I looked through your charts before and we've been studying you for a couple of weeks."
Amelia nodded encouragingly, waiting for her to continue. Dr. Cooper placed the scan and opened the light, revealing a beauty in front of her. Amelia was amazed to say the least, she wasn't sure if she was drooling but she instinctively wiped her mouth just in case. She was about to ask whether she could steal this patient until she froze. Owen noticed her tense frame and furrowed his eyebrows, trying to see what Amelia saw. This couldn't be happening.
"As you can see, you have a-" Dr. Cooper started, only to be interrupted by Amelia's sharp voice.
"I know what that is." Owen looked at both women, trying to steal an answer from either of them. He knew Amelia didn't want to hear a word of it and asked the doctor to explain everything outside, reminding Amelia that he was outside the door and she could scream if she wanted him. It was a tumor. A tumor harvested itself in her brain and grew rapidly; they were both doctors, two dumb doctors who constantly diagnosed themselves and the thought hadn't occurred to either of them. He was mad at the world for doing this to him and to her, especially. He was mad that it was terminal and they had nothing to do anymore, he was mad that they didn't notice it; he was mad that they ignored the symptoms and played it off as if it were some stupid flu. He was mad at himself as much as he was mad at her. At that moment, he completely understood why doctors never diagnosed themselves properly; it was because they lived in fear of finding something and always tried to think of other reasons, other scenarios and completely ignored the cold blind truth staring right at them. He rubbed his temples and calmed down. Whatever he was feeling, Amelia was feeling ten times worse. Adeline left the second Owen entered the room and she rubbed his arm, telling him to handle her with ease and comfort.
He knelt down and grabbed her hands, looking at her face. She looked like she'd seen a ghost, her skin pale and her eyes red and teary. She was crying profusely but didn't seem to notice it. She was sitting there physically but she wasn't here emotionally. "Mia…"
"This can't be happening." She croaked out, her emotions getting the best of her. She shook her head and allowed the tears to fall, pushing Owen away from her and pacing the room anxiously. "This can't be happening!" She screamed, her voice breaking the instant she tried.
Owen slowly approached her and held her close, closing his eyes in pain as she tried moving and continued hitting him, trying to move away from him. He tightened his hold on her and continued to fight back until she started sobbing full on and let go of all the fight she had left in her. "Mia…"
She shook her head for the millionth time in the last two seconds and stepped away slightly, watching him with sad teary eyes and a shaking figure. "I am a neurosurgeon. My baby, my Ryan, was born without a brain. My brother, Derek my annoyingly smug asshole of a brother, died from a brain bleed. I am dying from a tumor that has been eating my brain for months! I am a damn neurosurgeon, Owen. I am a neurosurgeon. I thought God had a sense of humor but this is extreme! This… this isn't happening to me right now. This can't be happening to me." He wanted to burn everyone and everything. He wanted to take away her pain and implant that tumor in his brain instead. Life fucked everyone, he was well aware of that but this is too much fucking to last him and his grandchildren a lifetime. He hugged her in disbelief and denial, not knowing what words to utter and what words to scream. He wasn't going to lose himself in front of her, he couldn't. He didn't want her to know about his pain and carry that on her shoulders as well. He didn't have enough time with her, he didn't have enough time to marry her, to build a family together, to grow old together, to retire together, to do all those things together because his entire life was dying and he couldn't do anything. He felt fucking useless. He wanted to smash his head against the wall and hope to god that the concussion is so bad he never wakes up again but he held all these unwanted emotions in.
He held everything inside and pulled back from Amelia, looking straight in her eyes. Looking at the eyes that resembled the sky at noon and the ocean, bright sparkly blue. "We're going to get through this together, okay Amelia? I'm here for the long run and I don't care how tiresome it'll get. I'm here and we're going to do this. We're going to survive this; you'll survive this for as long as you can. We are endgame, we will get through this and we'll do it together."
Death is funny; it has a sense of humor that cannot be ignored. Death also has a funny way of showing up and screwing with everyone's lives.
Now there's green light in my eyes,
And my lover on my mind.
And I'll sing from that piano, tear my yellow dress and,
Cry and cry and cry and,
Over the love of you.
'Cause you're a hard soul to save,
With an ocean in the way,
But I'll get around it,
I'll get around it.