Disclaimer: I don't own Scrubs.
How I Go
It's funny. Well, actually it isn't really funny, but it's weird. I've treated so many patients that have gotten into car accidents. It's odd to me that I'm the one in one now.
Those stupid "OnStar" commercials flash through my head. My father told me when I bought this stupid car seven years ago, when I was twenty, not to even bother with it. Said it was a waste of money. What I wouldn't do to be one of those stupid commercial people calling in and asking for help. My cell phone is in the back seat…and I'm pretty sure the car is totaled. There's no way of getting back there now.
I thought it would hurt, getting slammed by another car. I didn't even see it coming. The light was green and I went. It didn't take much thought. Apparently the idiot on the left of me was too ignorant to see his light turned red at the abandoned intersection by the Dunkin Donuts and Baskin Robbins.
But it didn't hurt that much. Now I'm feeling sort of floaty. And a bit gross, because I'm bleeding all over the car's interior and I have no idea where from. Random things are popping through my head. I see the Dunkin Donuts, the open sign flickering, and think about how my dad took me on one of his traveling office supply runs. We ate at a donut place every morning without fail. He even took me without Dan that time. For once he saw me without having something to compare me to.
That brings me to breakfast this morning. Turk and I had gone out for smiley pancakes at the diner by the hospital. They asked us if we wanted kid's menus. Thinking back, I laugh, but something's pressing down on my chest painfully.
I stare out at the Dunkin Donuts. Please, please, somebody notice I'm out here. It's midnight, though, so whoever's working is probably fast asleep. I know I'm not going to die, but this is pretty uncomfortable. Not to mention boring.
I could tell you the wildest of tales
My friend the giant and traveling sales
Tell you all the times that I failed
The years all behind me the stories exhaled.
I sort of wish I'd gone car shopping with my mom. She probably would've made me install that stupid OnStar thing. But I figured, you know, it was a car, a man's job. And I couldn't just invite Dan to go with me. He never liked me very much, especially after I went to college and he stuck around to marry the girlfriend he later broke up with when he found out she was pregnant…with someone else's baby.
Ugh. My head. The numbness is creeping away, the euphoria of being smacked ruthlessly by metal suddenly drained. There's a sharp pain at my side, and I realize that it's what has been staining the seat with blood. No worries, though. Turk will fix it up.
Oh, wait. Turk's not on duty. He's probably in bed with Carla right now. Tomorrow he works the morning shift, and hopefully someone will pass by before then.
Hopefully.
I wonder why somebody hit me. My car lights were on. I was following traffic laws and driving below the speed limit for once. What was this, karma for borrowing Elliot's clipboard and losing it? Damn it, I forgot to tell her about that. She's going to be pissed. Her shift started…an hour ago, I think to myself, looking at the little clock installed into the car. The clock is still running, and so is the radio. If only the stupid car itself would come back to life and get me out of here.
And I'm drying out
Crying out
This isn't how I go
Slowly, I turn my head to the left of me. Every small movement sends shoots of pain up my spine, but if there's a way out I have to find out now. The door is crushed, though. The loser smacked the driver's side. It occurs to me then that the seatbelt broke off of me on impact, and the upper half of me is sprawled on the passenger side.
Plus I can't move. This is just handy dandy.
My stomach growls and I can't help but laugh again, despite the pain it causes. After all this my worst problem is still the hunger. I'd been working a fifteen hour shift before finally leaving the hospital, and all I'd gotten was breakfast and lunch. Dinner just fell off the map somewhere along the way. Turk called and said there was pizza in the fridge, though, and he'd be asleep when I got back. Which translated as, "Carla's coming over, don't do anything stupid."
Blood starts running from my mouth and down my chin. I quit laughing immediately, even though it seems like the funniest thing in the world. It's hilarious. I'm here in the middle of nowhere by a donut shop, trapped in a half-destroyed car.
I close my eyes. I know it's a bad idea, but it's only for a second, anyway.
I could tell you of a man not so tall
Who said life's a circus and so we are small
Tell you of a girl that I saw
I froze in the moment and she changed it all
When I wake it's my pager going off. I strain to see the clock and see I've been out for about an hour, and still nobody has seen the damn car. I'm right in the middle of the intersection! Is this place really that abandoned?
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Oh, right. The pager. Where was that stupid pager…? I think hard for a moment, and then it occurs to me that it's clipped onto my scrubs bottoms, as usual. Shouldn't have taken that long to figure out.
I carefully lift my left arm—actually, scratch that, the left arm won't move. I carefully lift my right arm, which seems to have received little damage, and bring the pager to my face.
Thought you had the night shift. Where r u?
It's Elliot. She's the only one who uses those abbreviations. "Ugh…" I find myself moaning as I try to reposition myself so I can respond. My head feels heavy, like there are a whole bunch of blankets on the top of it. Eventually I manage to type in a reply.
No. Not on call. Could you help me?
It takes about five excruciatingly long minutes before I finally manage to send the message. It's so cold in here. I'm freezing, but I'm too tired to shiver. It's the oddest sensation. I really just want to sleep, but I know I have to stay awake if I'm going to…to…
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
"Oh!" I exclaim, roused again. I pick up the pager.
With what? I'm on break. Over in five minutes.
I groan, realizing that I may not have enough time to type in what I have to say. I really don't even know what this intersection is called. Turk and I just call it the sweet street because of the junk food.
JD? she pages again.
Stuck in the car at intersection with donuts. Hit by something.
After I sent it I realize that it wouldn't make any sense. I sigh. If I was lucky, she'd call Turk and ask about the donut reference. Otherwise she'd think I was crazy and keep working. I hope not. I'm really starting to feel like crap, and it's getting really stuffy and hard to breathe in here. Is there a way to run out of oxygen in a car? It's hard to get any, that's for sure.
And I'm drying out
Crying out
This isn't how I go
Hurry now
Lay me down
And let these waters
Flow, flow
Hit by something? Are you okay?
Accident. Some idiot hit me.
The strenuous reply is all I can manage. Suddenly, without warning, my eyes shut and I'm surrounded with darkness again. Right before I conk out completely, it hits me: I could die here. Alone. In the middle of no…where…
A woman walked down a small divider of rooms in a shabby city apartment, a look of discontent clearly written on her face. "Boys? Boys, whose clothes are here in the middle of the hallway? I thought I told you to unpack in your rooms. I'm not going to take you to visit your father again if you don't—"
"J.D. did it," said Dan automatically.
"Nuh-uh," little J.D. protested. "Mom, they're his clothes, not mine."
"But I gave those to you. Remember?" Dan lied, giving his mom a pathetic look. "I can't believe that's how he treats a gift."
Their mother, exhausted from the late night drive to visit their father—who she had divorced a year ago—sat at the kitchen table and buried her head in her hands.
"Dan, just take the clothes back. Obviously he didn't want them."
"But Mom, he never—"
"Please, John!" she snapped. "I have a headache. Go play in your room or something. I don't have time for this right now."
You never do, little J.D. thought to himself. Besides, his name wasn't John. No one ever called him that anymore. Not even his father, who had named him John in the first place.
He sighed, grabbed the clothes that Dan had left, and dropped them off in his brother's closet. Some things would never change.
Son I am not everything
You thought that I would be
But every story I have told
Is part of me
"Dr. Cox."
The man keeps walking, completely ignoring me. What does he want, a big sign in fluorescent lights flashing "PLEASE SLOW FOR INTERNS"? A mixture of being completely fed up and also worry for J.D. drives me to catch up with him and get right in his face.
"Dr. Cox," I repeat, halting him.
He stops in his tracks, the look of annoyance nearly piercing my very being. "Barbie. I'm going to give you three seconds. One…two…"
"I think J.D.'s in trouble," I blurt out as fast as I can.
"…three. EEEEEP. Time's up."
"Did you even hear me? I said that J.D.'s in trouble. You know, Newbie. The one you're always calling girls' names—"
He scoffs. "I know who she is," he says, "I just don't understand why she's my concern this early in the morning. Diana's not on duty until tomorrow. Oh, wait," he says sarcastically, "was I recently dubbed the intern police? You think I can just tap my magic fairy wand and make everything okay and easy for ya? Well, think again, Barbie. Think again."
I don't know what possesses me to do it. I really don't. Maybe this is why I'll never have a boyfriend and I'll grow old lonely and desolate.
I stomp on his foot. "I'm telling you because everyone else is asleep, and from what J.D. just paged me in the on call room, I'd say he's in a car accident." I gulp after the words come out. I didn't want to believe that my suspicion was true, but if I'm going to get this man to take me seriously I'm going to need to use the worst possible case scenario.
He stops for real this time, sighing wearily. "You have a real reason to believe this?"
I nod. Tears well up into my eyes as the seriousness hits me like a gigantic weight. "Yeah. I've been paging him for ten minutes and he hasn't responded."
"Well, don't cry about it. Do something. Where did he say he was?"
"The—the donut intersection?" I choke out, thoroughly confused. "I don't know if he was even kidding or something…I mean, there's no such—"
"Yes there is. Every male doctor in this hospital knows of it." He sucks in a proud breath. "Barbie, are you prepared to go where no female of Sacred Heart has ever dared tread?"
"Um…sure."
"Then let's go."
You keep the air in my lungs
Floating along as a melody comes
And my heart beats like timpani drums
Keeping the time while a symphony strums
My eyes open and I jerk awake. I start to wonder what's woken me when I hear a strange, twisted-sounding noise. To my alarm, I realize it's my own chest, heaving and trying to get oxygen. I feel completely crushed, and yet there's nothing on top of me. I'm still in this car. My pager must have rolled to the floor when I blacked out.
God, is it cold in here. Colder than death. Then I shudder, once again attacked by the idea that these moments in the car could be my last. Who was the last person I talked to before I got into this? Who was the last person I saw? It was a patient, actually. I hadn't even said good-bye to anyone before leaving my shift. Mr. Barry? The last guy I ever spoke with? That sounds almost wrong.
"Stop the car!" I hear someone shriek. "Dr. Cox, that's…oh my God, that's J.D.'s…"
"Stay here." A car door slams and footsteps come running towards the junkyard scrap my already crappy car has transformed into.
"Go dammit, newbie, what did you do?" Dr. Cox curses after somehow managing to maneuver his head into a car window.
"Hi," I manage weakly. At this point his presence doesn't even strike me as unusual. "What's up?"
"Just shut up, would you? I'm calling the ambulance. Don't move or I'll hurt you. Got it, Nancy?"
I swallow hard, trying to keep my mind off the pain that seems to be shaking my entire body. Vaguely I hear him reporting. Something about a totaled car. Ah, so the car definitely has been destroyed, then. Will my insurance cover that? What the hell is the name of that insurance company, anyway?
"How did this happen?" Dr. Cox demands. He's forced the door open. I think it just detached and fell on the street with a clunk. Someone squeals; I think it's Elliot. I wish she weren't here. I don't want her to see this.
"Someone hit me," I try to explain, still gasping for air. I wince. It hurts like hell. "Ran the red light…smacked right into…" Suddenly another coughing fit comes out of nowhere. Little lights dance in front of my eyes as I hack up my own blood, chest heaving with immeasurable agony.
"Okay. Don't freak out. That's the worst thing you can do. I called the ambulance and they'll be here any second. Did you get that?"
"J.D…" Elliot says in a small voice. I can't see her face. I don't want to be able to. I want to reach out and hold her hand, tell her it's all just a stupid scratch and it doesn't matter. I want to lie to her. But I guess the blood all over the car isn't helping much in the way of my lie.
"Don't worry," I tell her, "I'm fine."
She laughs nervously. It was one of those reflex laughs, when someone says something that isn't funny but sounds absurd enough to be. I can't help but grin.
"Like hell," Dr. Cox mutters. "I can't believe this."
Neither can I.
And I'm drying out
Crying out
This isn't how I go
Hurry now
Lay me down
And let these waters
Flow…
Flow
Let it flow
Elliot's hand grasps mine. I can't imagine wanting anything more than her touch at that moment. Without words, she manages to make the pain cease.
"Pulse is slow," she mutters anxiously. But she doesn't let go.
My eyes start to drift shut again. I just want to sleep. Then the pain will be gone and everything will be peaceful and right.
"Don't you dare. I'll strangle the living daylights out of you," Dr. Cox threatens me. "Stay awake. Do you understand me? That's a direct order, Caroline."
"Sorry," I mutter. "I'll try…"
Lights are flashing in the distance. I hear the sirens coming and relax gratefully. Help is coming. Everything's going to be alright.
"J.D.!"
"C'mon, newbie, don't do this…"
"Please hold on!"
It's the last thing I hear before I close my eyes.
Let it flow…
Let it flow…
My best friend was pronounced dead in the ambulance at 2:26 in the morning on July the twenty eighth. The impact of the car crushed his lungs and deprived him of oxygen for more than an hour before help finally arrived. It was a miracle he'd actually survived that long, according to Carla.
Some miracle, I think to myself. Beside me is a solemn man, silent in his own grief. I remember him as J.D.'s father, the man who visited just a couple of months ago. Next to him is Dan. I've only seen pictures of him. Beside him must be Mrs. Dorian, J.D.'s mother. She's sobbing uncontrollably.
I feel my own cheek, wet with tears. The blazing hot sun baking my face immediately dries them, leaving no evidence of the soul-wrenching mourning we're all torn with.
They cremated his body. He and Dan had written up wills when they were nine, mostly as a joke, but the cremation part was serious enough for them to follow through. J.D., my best friend, burned into ashes. It's hard to think about. I don't think I want to be cremated. I feel like there's nothing left of him now.
"We're here today to say farewell to my son John…J.D.," his mother corrects herself as she speaks into the microphone. "I never…I never expected that we'd outlive either of our boys. And J.D…was always so driven. We'll miss him so much. I couldn't have asked for more from a son. He decided when he was twelve that he was going to be a doctor, even when I told him there was no way in hell he'd ever apply himself enough to do it." She laughs bitterly. "He proved me wrong, getting all the scholarships when we had nothing to offer. I'll always be proud of him for that. I regret that there are terrible people like the drunken driver who hit him, after everything he'd gone through to be where he was today…but now other people can hopefully learn from the mistakes of alcohol and driving. And J.D…he's in a better place. We'll love him forever, but now he's moved on." She looks up to the sky as tears roll down her face and stain her black dress. "We have to say good-bye."
Good-bye, J.D., I think to myself. It's over now. There isn't a land of what might have been anymore. J.D.'s gone forever, and he's never coming back.
Another fresh set of tears spark, and my legs suddenly feel weak. I reach out and find my mother's arm. I thank God that she's here for once.
"It'll be okay," she tells me. I really want to believe her. So for this moment I let her lie to me.
Son I am not everything
You thought that I would be
But every story I have told
Is part of me
Son I leave you now but you have so much more to do
And every story I have told is part of you
"Ma'am." I watch as Dr. Cox flags down Mrs. Dorian. The funeral is wrapping up, the last speech given, and everyone is filing out. Turk and Carla linger together by the plaque that marks his remembrance, a bodiless, makeshift grave.
"Oh…hello." She shakes his hand. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met."
"I'm Perry Cox," he introduces himself.
"Oh…J.D. talked about you. I remember. I think he really looked up to you in and odd way. Thanks for being there for him. I wish we'd been able to, but the commute was so far that we could hardly ever visit…and with money so tight…" She sighs, visibly willing herself not to cry again. "I just wish I'd seen him again."
"He was happy, if that means anything to you," Dr. Cox offers.
"Thank you. That does mean a lot to me."
She starts to leave, but Dr. Cox interrupts her exit. "He was the best damn intern I'd seen in my entire career. He was a great doctor. It's too bad you never got to see him. He…he cared for his work. A lot."
I know it's true. He was the best of the best as far as new interns came. I'm going to miss him so much.
I walk up the makeshift aisle between the rows of plastic chairs, the sweltering sun beating down on my neck.
"Hey," Carla greets me as I approach, her eyes glistening. Turk just stares silently at the marker, unwilling to speak. I can understand. He knew J.D. for nine years. That's a long time. "You okay?"
I shake my head. "But I will be."
Before we leave, I read the headstone one last time.
John Michael Dorian. April 2, 1977-July 28th, 2003.
Yes, yes. Redundancy with car accidents. Shut up! Lol.