My eyes open quickly. The bright lights blind me, but after a few moments I can see everyone moving around me chaotically. I hear people yelling commands, but I don't understand most of what they are saying. I sit up, "Why am I here? Is there something wrong with me?" They ignore me. It's like they don't even hear me. A nurse walks quickly past me, I tug on her shirt to get her attention. She keeps walking. I get off the bed and spin around looking for someone that would be able to give me some answers. But I gasp at the person who catches my eye first.
I take a step toward the bed and look down. It's me. I'm still lying down. But I'm not. I reach my hand out and touch my forehead. "How is this happening?" A pretty Spanish woman in her late twenties is standing at the end of the bed. She is examining my leg. The next thing I notice is her arms jerking suddenly and hearing a snapping noise. I squeeze my eyes shut and cringe, expecting to feel an unbelievable amount of pain, but I don't feel anything. She jumps back to let a group of doctors through.
A red headed doctor is standing next to the right side of the bed. "Jane Doe, 15 years old. She was hit by a drunk driver. Her breathing is steady, but she's been unconscious since drop off. She had several displaced fracture in her right leg, Dr. Torres put them back in place to buy some time, but she will need surgery," he reads to the doctors that are diligently examining me. I watch them carefully. One doctor lifts my eyelids to check my pupils. He turns and calls out, "I want an MRI done." A young girl standing by the door nods, I'm guessing that she's an intern. Then, a nurse calmly shouts, "She's seizing doctor!" He turns around quickly. "We need that MRI, stat!"
I run out of the room, terrified at what I just saw. I slide my back down the wall, until I'm sitting on the ground. I hug my legs close to my chest and cry. Flashes of the accident start going through my head.
Sydney and I are walking down the street, just talking about normal every day things. I look both ways, and start crossing the street. Sydney grabs my arm, "Wait for that car." I look to the right, down the street. Shaking her hand off my arm, I say "He has a red light; we'll have plenty of time." I start crossing. I notice she isn't following, so I stop and turn toward her, motioning with my hand for her to come. She frowns and looks down at the ground, "He's going really fast, I think we should just wait." I roll my eyes and turn to start walking. "Amber!" I see lights quickly come at me. I can hear tires squealing, and then a bang.
I pull my sleeves over my hands and wipe my eyes. I stand up, take a deep breath and walk back into the room. It is much less chaotic. And everyone knows exactly what they need to be doing. I look around for the brain doctor, but I don't see him anywhere. I walk down the hall, looking for any familiar faces from the trauma room I was in. Then I find him, the brain doctor. He's looking at the results from the MRI. I can tell they aren't good. He has his hand on his forehead, then he sighs and runs his fingers through his unusually perfect hair.
I follow him back to my room; he holds the results up and announces, "She has a subdural hematoma. We'll need to perform surgery right away, we can't wait any longer." He looks over to a doctor in her thirties, "Dr. Grey, you'll be scrubbing in with me. Prep her for surgery." The doctor nods and swiftly prepares my body for surgery. I walk with them down the hall, trying to decide whether I want to watch the surgery or not. After the long walk to the operating room, I decide to go in. I watch Dr. Shepherd, the brain doctor, and Dr. Grey giggling and talking about their plans for the night while they are scrubbing in. He leans in and kisses her, and my heart sinks. These are the people that will be drilling a whole into my brain? They don't seem very focused… I take a deep breath and say a silent prayer. I heard another doctor tell a patient that Dr. Shepherd is the best neuro surgeon in the country. I need to have confidence in him.
I walk into the OR behind them. A nurse slides gloves over their hands. Everything is all set up for them when they enter. An IV is placed in my arm, and they have already given my body the anesthesia. My head is being held up in an unusual mechanism. It has 3 pins holding my head still and it attaches to the table. I walk to his right and see that about one fourth of an inch of my hair is shaved. He puts his hand out, "Scalpel." He makes an incision just behind the hair line. The skin and muscle are then folded back. He hands the drill to Dr. Grey, and she drills a small burr hole into my skull. I watch them attach a saw and cut out an outline for the bone flap. I bite my lip nervously, and begin to feel nauseous. But the nauseous feeling isn't bothering me, the adrenaline is covering over it.
They carefully remove the bone flap and place it in a bowl. There is a layer over the brain, it must be a protective layer. The doctors use scissors to cut through the layer, they called it the dura. They use retractors to hold the dura apart. I stand on my tip toes and lean closer to see my brain. I feel sick and scared and curious all at the same time. For the rest of the surgery, I just stare at my exposed brain. "That should do it," he says in a satisfied tone, "can you close, Dr. Grey?" He takes a pair of long handled scissors out of my brain and steps away to make room for Dr. Grey.
I follow Dr. Shepherd out of the operating room. Dr. Grey comes out only a minute or two after Dr. Shepherd. I watch them as they scrub out, staring at them in amazement. These people just saved my life. They did it so flawlessly and effortlessly, and it seemed so graceful. I wanted to hug them and thank them a million times, but they would have no idea I was even doing it. I look in at my body, still asleep and peaceful.
Dr. Torres runs into the scrub room, "I am so sorry I'm late. We had a kid who needed a splint, and I thought I'd have enough time." She scrubs in and rushes into the room. I watch Dr. Torres cut into my skin and put my bones into place. It looks like second nature to her, it looks like she's doing it out of habit. It's amazing how quickly and perfectly these doctors can perform surgery. They must really be the best.
While Dr. Torres is closing my leg, I decide to check the waiting rooms for my family. But I couldn't find them anywhere. I sit in the waiting room right by the entrance, and I watch the door, hoping they will walk trough at any moment.
An hour later, my eyes start to sting and a tear slides down my face. I realize that waiting around and staring at the door won't help with anything, it will only make me more upset. So, I decided to check on my body. When I enter the room, I see two attractive doctors sitting by my bed. One is suturing the cuts on my face, while the other is suturing the ones on my arm. "I'm finished, Dr. Sloan." The doctor working on my face leans over to check the other doctor's work. He nods, "Good work, Avery. I am just about done, too."
I walk closer and examine the incisions on my scalp and leg. Then I stare at my empty body.