Seven months earlier
Emergencies happen all the time, whether they are to be expected or not. Usually when it is rush hour, we do tend to get ourselves prepared; it is the time where a lot of people leave school or work at roughly the same time, and accidents happen nearly every day during that time. So it was no surprise when a nurse ran into my office with a wheelchair to help transport me to the emergency room quicker and swiftly informed me of a male in his mid-twenties who smashed his head against the windshield of his car when a bigger car behind him carelessly hit into his. In addition to the brain damage, he was losing blood that paramedics attempted to stop as much as they could on the way over. This is normal. It's a daily routine for me.
What made me drop the sutures and lose balance on my prosthetic wasn't just the event. It was the bleeding patient in front of me.
The dying patient in front of me was Adam.
His eyes were closed., more than half of his face was red and brown from dried blood, he laid still on the gurney, but he remained unforgettable and hard to miss. The moment I laid my eyes on him, I could hear his voice, begging and screaming my name so loud that it sent shivers down my spine. The last time I saw him was when I was running away. Jigsaw. My family possibly dying. My lost foot. A young male being left in the dark. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to run from that place, regardless of what I had to do. I just kept on trying to convince myself that he would be fine while there was a taunting voice telling me, no chance in hell.
I was afraid that my cowardice had cost someone's life, and that's the last thing any surgeon could do. No surgeon, or any doctor, should run from his or her patient, no matter the circumstance. This job doesn't come with a comfort zone. Up until that day, I had learned to turn my emotions emotions into cold, uncaring steel. Of course it would cost my relationship with my family, always putting work first, as well as make families of the dead uncomfortable when I had informed them the unfortunate news, but I would just tell myself that doing this could save more lives. I would never have to show sympathy when operating, and that's how it should be. That's what I thought. I've grown accustomed to do my work with emotions now; I had accepted when to not let my emotions get in the way after that experience.
And there I was, standing frozen in front of the young man I thought I left for dead a whole year ago. The heart monitor was showing abnormalities, but this was my second chance. I can save him now...!
That flicker of hope faded, however, when the rapidly beeping monitor abruptly halted to a long beep, and I could only stand frozen.
I can't let my emotions get in the way again. I can't...I can't...! But I just couldn't move, no matter how hard I tried. The same nurse from before pulled me back to the wheelchair as I watched my colleagues get the defibrillator ready. The nurse was shooting questions at me, everyone was shouting actions to one another, but they all sounded like nonsense to me up until "The defibrillator is fully charged!" and "Starting at 200! Clear!"
The beeping was restored soon after, but I still couldn't get the strength to get up and do my part. That was when I was able to hear the nurse, "What is wrong with you, Doctor Gordon? This is unlike you!"
"I'm not feeling well," was all I could say as I rubbed my forehead. The nurse nodded understandingly and asked if she would like to take me back to the office or if I could do so on my own with my cane.
I was in no condition to even walk.
o0o
I was sitting on the wheelchair, staring into space and allowing my mind wander. I wasn't sure how long I was here, just sitting outside the emergency room with a cane in hand, but the sound of sobbing snapped me back into reality.
"Where is he?" when I looked up to see the front desk in the distance, there was a short, slim woman crying to person behind the desk, "My son was in an accident, and I know he is here! I saw it all on the news! Tell me where he is, please!"
The person behind the desk, who I wasn't able to see, was attempting to talk softly to the woman to calm her down, despite knowing that it was no use.
"I can't just wait! I want to see Adam now!"
So this was Adam's mother. Judging from the few white roots growing on the front hairline and small lines on her face, I could place her to be in her early- to mid-fifties. I wasn't sure what to do at that moment. If I had no idea who this woman was, or who Adam was, this would be really easy to deal with, especially since she was too busy fighting back tears to put up much of a fight.
o0o
The rest of the day went by like a blur. Some time after Adam's mother sat down in the waiting room, I went back to my office with the wheelchair and walking cane resting on my lap. I informed a nurse to let me know of the whereabouts of the patient that they were trying to stabilize and heal as soon as possible.
It was more overwhelming to me than it should be.
Adam was alive. He wasn't left for dead out of my fear. For the past year, he has been out there, living, not rotting in a bathroom that smelled like death. I wasn't sure if I should feel relieved with that fact because of the current situation. He may or may not survive this time.
A knock broke into my thoughts, "Excuse me? Doctor Gordon?"
I gazed up from my desk to the door, "Come in."
A young male rookie peeked his head in, "I'm sorry for interrupting, but I was told to tell you how the emergency patient from the accident earlier has been doing."
"Well? How is he?"
He swallowed, "He's in a coma, sir."
o0o
Seven months later
My heart sinks at those words. Who are you?
I get up from my place on the bed, grab the clipboard from the ground, and I take a quick look at Adam's birth date. Remembering his mother's visit for his birthday a few weeks ago, an idea spawns, "Adam, can you tell me how old you are?"
His face looks lost and confused, and I feel my heart ache just seeing him in this state.
"I...don't know. Am I twenty-two? Twenty-three?"
Wrong. Very wrong, "Adam, you were twenty-six when you were in an accident that got you here. Seven months ago. You turned twenty-seven recently."
He gets deathly pale, and I really wish I don't have to continue, "What...?" His eyes widen and trembles nervously. Because I can feel his horror, I'm not sure if I just nodded in response like I intend.
The last three to four years are gone from your memory.
o0o
A/N: This gon' be a long fic. At least it is by my standards. Just letting you know ahead of time right now.