AN: Hi guys, well I'm not going to lie I am a procrastinator.. ..I had planned to be super efficient and update this regularly, but here we are what, nearly 6 months later? Sorry for the super long wait, I'd promise to be quicker with the next update, but I wouldn't bet on it.. sorry... I will try though.. KDLR x
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I feel bad for sending Zosia home, but she needs some time away, she needs some time to wind down and somehow try to clear her mind. The death of anyone is hard, be it sudden and unexpected, or after a long battle, but a child? That pain never really goes away, I still recall the first child who died on me, way back when I was a junior doctor. That pain, the feeling of helplessness as you try to work out what you could have done different; The should I, could I and would I tropes hurt more the longer they stick with you. This isn't and probably wouldn't be Zosia's last child death, that much is a sad fact of this job, but Hollie's death has cut right to the bone in a sense of affecting her. The death of a child evokes a sadness that I hope no one ever should feel, let alone as a doctor but as a family.
I wander into the staffroom and stare out the window for a moment, my mind preoccupied. I feel uneasy, something is clearly not right, Zosia normally fights her corner, and often doesn't hold back, it is one of the things I admire about her. What am I missing?
I spot Zosia's notebook on the side of the sofa. I walk over and pick up the notebook leafing through it. It's full to the brim of hastily written questions, all of them connecting to Hollie and possible reasons for her death.
"Oh Zosia." I sigh dejectedly. She's looking for answers. Sometimes there aren't any, sometimes death is just one of those sad and awfully unavoidable things. My heart is aching for her; Hollie's death was not her fault.
I carefully read each quickly written line, trying to understand Zosia's mind. Midway through her heartbroken ramblings a line catches my eye. Five words, unassuming, yet they leap at me as a plea:
'I can't do this anymore.'
The words hit me like a brick, fear immediately washes over me in huge waves, I can feel my face paling as I read the words over and over trying to make sense of them.
Then it dawns on me; I've sent her home.
"Oh god. What have I done?" I mutter quietly to myself as I place her notebook under my arm and rush to my office. I grab my coat from behind the door and pull it on swiftly. I pick my bag up and head towards the nurse's station placing Zosia's notebook in my bag as I spot Mo.
"Mo, I need you to take charge for a little while, I've got an errand to run." I say hurriedly.
"Everything alright Jac?" She calls after me I was outwardly panicking now.
"I'll call to update in a bit." I call back. It had been over an hour since she'd left, I don't even know where to start looking for her.
I opt for the stairs, taking them two, three at a time as I rush to the ground floor. I pass various people on my way down, but take no notice of them as I rush by.
"Move!" I hear myself snapping at a pair of nurses as I push past them in the reception. The cool air hits me as soon as I make it outside.
I need to find her, I need to know that she is alright, this deep-seated worry is engulfing me. I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Jonny to get him to pick Emma up from the childminder.
"Jac? Is everything alright?" He asks as my free hand fiddles with my car keys.
"Yes and no, but don't worry it's not Emma or myself, just... work." I reply, it's not exactly a lie but it's not quite the truth.
"Do you need me to collect Emma?" He asks with understanding.
"Please, Jonny I would appreciate that, I'll keep you up to date with things." I hear myself sigh.
"Are you sure that you're alright?" Johnny asks in genuine concern.
"Yeah." That one was a lie. A big fat Jac Naylor 'everything is fine when actually everything is going to shit' lie. "I'll call Francis and let her know you're coming to get Emma. Do you know how long you'll be?" I ask forcibly brighter.
"An hour at most. Are you sure that you're alright? You sound out of breath." Jonny asks, for an annoying little man he does actually care.
"Cleared Darwin to ground floor in about 80 seconds, nothing to worry about." Again, another half-truth but right now I don't care. Zosia is all I care about. Jonny stays silent obviously disbelieving of my explanation.
"I'll call Francis." He says eventually. "I'll tell her you got held up at work."
"Thank you, Jonny. I'm going to go now. Could you please text me when you pick Emma up, and will you tell her that I love her?" I say almost quietly.
"Of course Jac." Jonny replies.
"Thank you." I say as I hang up the phone and thrust it into my coat pocket.
I unlock the car and get in, trying to decide of where Zosia could be. I decide that the best place to start would be at her flat.
It takes me a little while to navigate through the city traffic, but after some careful speeding I pull up outside the address I remember so well for never actually being there before. I rush out of my car, and run up towards the front door, not looking back to check if I had locked the car or not. I debate in my head whether to knock or just go in, surely, it's not illegal if you are concerned for someone, right? This could also be the totally wrong address, she could have moved or even gone elsewhere. I may even come face to face with Dom, I should have probably messaged him before embarking on this mercy mission, but my overwhelming gut feeling is still screaming a 'find Zosia, explain later' mantra. I try the front door handle and I gives underneath my weight, I let go a sigh of relief in knowing that I don't actually have to break in as the door opens.
I call out into her flat, it's almost silent as I walk towards the couch carefully listening for Zosia whilst desperately hoping that she is here. Something clatters on the floor in the kitchen beside me.
"Zosia?" I ease as in glance around the unit, my heart pounds as I notice blood, my eyes scanning the barely conscious young woman slumped against the units. I pull my phone out of my pocket and hastily call for help as I go to her.
"It's alright." I soothe. "I'm here."
She's looking up at me as I crouch beside her. I pull her into my lap.
"Oh Zosia." I say sadly as I wrap my hands tightly around the deep wrist wound, I tighten my grip more, urgently trying to stop the blood leaving her body. She thrashes against me and manages to hit me with her bloody arm a few times as she does, I rock back in recoil, keeping a firm grip of the deep wounds on her wrist. I can feel the sting of a cut on my own face and tears welling up in my eyes as I plead with her.
"Please Zosia, let me help you."
She relaxes suddenly sending a wave a panic through me, I look down and she is gazing up at me. Zosia's eyes are watering too as she gazes back at me, a silence descends on us both as I try to think straight.
"I'm scared." Zosia croaks. My heart shatters as I gaze at her struggling to stay conscious.
"It's alright Zosia, I've got you; you're going to be OK." I soothe as she slips into unconsciousness. I cling on to her bleeding wrist.
"Keep fighting Zosia, please don't die on me." I plead.
The ambulance seems to be taking forever to arrive. Admittedly, I'm panicking and I'm streaming with tears as I try to stop the incessant bleeding from Zosia's wrist. I'm scared, a bright life is bleeding out under my fingers. A woman who has struggled with mental health issues, a young woman who has carried this all alone. I should have extended an ear to listen, I should have taken the time to be kinder to her, I should have been a better mentor.
Footsteps approach me as the paramedics arrive, I reel off stats and information. Her name, Zosia: it reverberates around my head as I let the paramedics take over. I plead with her to keep living and gently kiss her forehead, it's irrational and strange, I deal with patients who are critically ill, and occasionally those who are receiving end of life care, but watching a student. A friend even, it's overwhelming and terrifying. I bring my hands up, they're covered in blood, some of it is dry in places, I stare blankly at them before returning my attention to Zosia. The paramedics are working diligently on her. They're calm and professional as they speak to me. The younger man wrapped his arm around my shoulder in comfort.
"Ms. Naylor?" He eases, I turn my gaze to him, blinking as he draws me back to some sort of sense, I don't even remember his name. "I'm just going to clean your hands and face. Take some of the blood off. Is that alright?" He's gently spoken and kind as I nod, he has a damp wash cloth in his hands and begins to gently wipe my face as I blink back more tears.
"Hey," He soothes. "My colleague, he's taking good care of Zosia. We're going to get her to hospital and she's got a fighting chance thanks to you." His voice is kind and caring as he explains the things that I already know. I flinch as he cleans the cut under my eye barely breathing myself, holding a breath I didn't realise I was holding, this was wrong. How did I let it get so bad for Zosia? How did I not see her struggling until it was seemingly too late for her? A hidden anger is bubbling up inside of me, and it's not because Zosia has tried to make an attempt on taking her life. It's an anger where I feel like I have let her down. What kind of person does that make me? Am I really such an ice queen that I cannot see someone suffering so much? I sob aloud, the initial adrenaline rush wearing away as the seriousness of the situation fully dawns on me;
Zosia has tried to take her own life.