I'm a fan of Grey's, but mostly Amelia.
For two years, I have the idea to write the story of Amelia to keep a trace other than on the screen.
I grew up in a family surrounded by a brother and three sisters. My parents, two loving people have always been there for us, the memory that I have. My mother worked in the navy as a nurse and my father had a shop. I don't have many memories of my childhood, happy memories. No, I didn't live hell or even been beaten, but the fact that my mother wasn't often at home, had somehow brought me closer to my father. I made a relationship with him that still today I can't forget. He gave me money, it was not much, but these few pieces, I kept preciously in the hope of buying a city. A city, it would have taken many pennies to buy one. I certainly had much imagination, I don't see other reasons.
"We were in the back of the store. Dad had just given you two pennies, and you always hid them behind the counter in this big crack in the floorboards. You said you were saving them so you could buy a town. And then the two guys came in. We could hear them talking, but you weren't paying attention until dad yelled, and you looked up. They had already pulled the gun, they had already taken the money, but now they wanted the watch that mom gave him. He wouldn't give it up. There was a gunshot. You... lunged forward. I was trying to get to him, but... I couldn't move. I put one hand over your mouth so you wouldn't scream and wrapped the other one around you and just held on for dear life, prayed to God that you'd be quiet and you wouldn't say anything. You were so little.
- DEREK -
I was five, Derek was twelve or thirteen. My father died close to me, shot in the head and I was young, too young to do anything. Six years old, an age still very young, I had already in the idea of wanting to do medicine, to be a surgeon. Perhaps that seeing my father collapsed on the floor without me being able to intervene, not even Derek, the urge to help others was born in my mind. But there was this period, adolescence and its consequences. I had used drugs to combat this suffering, convinced that it would help me overcome the murder I had witnessed. I had become uncontrollable and my health ... an overdose, dead three minutes. Without Derek, I wouldn't be there anymore
I went to medicine, first to Harvard, then to Johns Hopkins. I completed a residency in general surgery to specialize in neurosurgery and obtained a fellowship that allowed me to be part of Dr. Ginsberg's team. I showed what I was capable of, everything went well until we go on a case in Los Angeles. I knew what had to be done to get this patient out of the comas. And I was ready for anything because I believed in it, but I was alone. Nobody wanted to believe that I had the solution.
- What about cannulating the aqueduct of Sylvius ? Passing a stent to drain the fluid buildup ?
- Dr. Shepherd.
- Her C.S.F. studies show a slowing of flow, not a complete obstruction. It could work. I assisted in two of the procedures..."I did my residency at Johns Hopkins. I have done dozens of procedures in the third ventricle. I am more than qualified. That's why you hired me.
- Well, clearly I made a mistake. You're fired, Dr. Shepherd.
The starting point of a new life. Ginsberg didn't want me to be on his team anymore, so I finally decided to stay at L.A. I found my brother's ex-wife, Addison, I lived her home, everything seemed fine. I had not spoken to Derek for a while, and I learned that he become victim of shot. I had sent emails asking for news, they were not answering so I went to Seattle and brought a guy met on the plane with a brain tumor. We operated on him, then we talked. When I returned to L.A, I applied for a position I obtained. I got on well with everyone, really. The people were nice, especially Dr. Charlotte King, a urologist. When she got married, without paying attention, I caught a glass of champagne that I drank. Charlotte called it an accident, but it was more than that. I had just returned to the path of alcohol. And more than an accident, I operated on a guy under the influence of alcohol, which earned me the removal of my surgical privileges until I could prove I was now sober.
I attended many meetings of alcoholics anonymous, I began to get fine, I thought. Then a friend, Michelle returned from a trip to Italy and I promised to help her. She had Huntington's disease, the symptoms were developing, she did not want to live anymore. I had enough powerful drugs for her to die by taking large doses. She died a few hours after being at home. She had taken medication herself, she had committed suicide. I lost a friend and I lost my mind at the same time. Drug came back as a way to help me overcome that. I went out, I hung out in the bars to finish sleeping with guys. One of them, Ryan, had become more than just a guy. I developed feelings, he developed them too. Like me, drugs were his everyday life. We took advantage of it, we had fun and when when Addison threatened to fire me from her home, I wanted to enjoy one last dose of oxycodone. Ryan died, he took this dose without thinking for a moment that he was going to die.
One month in the rehab center, I did not want to use more drugs, alcohol, I did not want to miss my life and hurt others. And now I'm getting pregnant with Ryan. We wanted children, everything was going too fast. This child I was carrying was anencephalic, he had no brain. I decided to give his organs to save other babies in need of a transplant. I held my son 43 minutes in my arms before they came to extract his organs. A year later, by dint of meetings, I became sober. I continued to work in the hospital when a new doctor appeared. We sympathized even if at first, nothing seemed to bring us closer. I fell in love. Once again, everything was going too fast, he had offered me an engagement ring but I do not know why, I accepted his propose and I decided to run away.
Here I am in Seattle, close to my brother's house...
