Thanks for the reviews so far, I really appreciate them. Writing a chapter a week seems to suit my current workload quite well, so I think I'll stick at this rythym for now (once half term rolls around I'm sure I'll be able to write a bit more, and I look forward to it every day!) I hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know what you think with a review please :)
Ethan sat opposite Zoe in her office, his hands tying themselves in knots in his lap. A plethora of thoughts were spinning through his mind. He was trying to decide what he would say, and indeed what the consultant would ask in the first place, whilst battling the worry that no words would come out at all. The rational portion of his brain mulled over what his answer would be to the simple question of what was wrong. He didn't quite know, exactly. The bigger, more dominant part of his brain told him that he couldn't be a doctor and carry on like this, he'd been called here for a reason and it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation. As usual, the rational side of his brain was beaten and in the seconds leading up to Zoe starting to speak, Ethan felt his heart speed up and his mouth was suddenly bone dry. He looked down at his hands, then switched his focus to the texture of his scrub trousers, because looking at his hands reminded him of how panicky this situation was making him feel. Normal people didn't sit in offices and wring their hands until they were half-numb, their thumbnails digging into their palms. Normal people didn't wring their hands full stop.
Zoe looked the registrar up and down, trying to get the measure of him. It was what she'd done when she first met him, and it was like a new man had taken his place.
"I realise this is probably the most unhelpful advice you'll get all day, but try not to worry, Ethan," she began slowly, in a calm tone that she hoped would put him at ease. "I didn't bring you here to have a go at you, or to point out where you're going wrong."
Then why am I here? Ethan asked himself, although he knew the answer as soon as he visualised the question. "As far as your effort goes, honestly you haven't changed. I mean, if anything, you're trying harder now than before..." She didn't voice the reason for the change in Ethan. "I'm just worried about you. You're not you, you don't seem like you're coping too well at the moment."
"I'm fine," Ethan said quickly.
"And that immediately tells me that you're not," she responded. "I've seen it Ethan. When you started here you stood at least two inches taller than you do now." She spoke a little more softly. "You accepted compliments gracefully, rather than hiding yourself away. Your voice didn't shake when you spoke to people." Ethan's head snapped up and he looked her dead in the eye. "Even Dylan can see it, Ethan, and he's hardly the most observant person around here, is he?"
"No, I suppose not," Ethan said, shaking his head sadly. "I just... I wouldn't know where to start, I don't know how to tell you anything, Zoe, it's just so chaotic in my head and I can't force all the thoughts into coherent sentences." He was surprised to see Zoe crack a small smile.
"I haven't heard you say so much for days," she said. "Just know that I'm here, and that you don't have to force yourself to cope on your own. I won't let you struggle alone, Ethan. If you find the words, I will always be prepared to listen."
"But what about..." he tailed off, not sure whether he would be talking out of turn or not.
"Connie will have to put up with having two doctors missing for a little while, won't she?" Zoe said, guessing what was contributing to Ethan's malaise. "And if it makes you more comfortable, this conversation can stay between us. Although I'm sure you will appreciate that there might come a point where she needs to be aware of what's going on." Ethan nodded uneasily, pressing his lips together. Half of him wanted desperately to tell her how he felt every time he had to open his mouth, and how he constantly belittled himself and wondered whether he was getting anything right. The other half kept him resolutely silent.
Zoe dismissed Ethan from her office a few minutes later, wishing he'd found the confidence to speak a little more. There was something on his mind, something weighing down heavily upon him, and she wanted to make it easier for him, but until he found away around this barrier, there wasn't much that she could do. And she really didn't want to go behind Ethan's back, but Zoe knew that this really couldn't stay between them for long. If she'd seen what she thought she had, whatever this was, it was beginning to muscle in on Ethan's usually excellent treating of patients, and if that continued, Connie simply couldn't be kept in the dark. Thinking rationally, she decided that if the registrar hadn't come forward with an explanation after three days, she would go to the Clinical Lead regardless. With a pang, she realised that it was likely that Ethan's reasoning would drive her to Connie's office anyway.
Treating an elderly gentleman in cubicle three, Ethan forced himself to keep his hands occupied, holding a bottle of antiseptic solution in one hand and a cotton wool pad in the other, to stop himself tying his hands in knots in front of him. He worked diligently to clean the cut on the his patient's leg, but didn't make any conversation at all except to ask him how it had happened, and whether he was up to date on his vaccinations. Caught it on the fence, and no, he didn't think he needed them at his age. Ethan was quiet again after this short exchange, dressing the cut and then preparing a tetanus jab. As he signed the discharge papers, the grey-haired man spoke again.
"Not much of a talker, are you?" he said. Ethan felt his cheeks turn pink.
"I'm afraid not," Ethan replied. "I'm no good at small talk, I'd rather just get the job done."
"And I really appreciate it," the man went on, sending a wave of relief over Ethan. "That nurse who brought me in before, the one with flowers in her hair, she could talk for England and I'm just not into idle chatter. It was nice to have some peace."
"Um – I – thank you," Ethan stammered, feeling his heart speed up as he wondered how normal people responded to compliments. He sighed, wishing he could disguise the fact he could barely get out a coherent sentence without sounding like a blithering idiot.
At the end of the shift, Ethan changed out of his scrubs and back into his shirt and trousers. He pulled his coat over his shoulders and looped his scarf around his neck, before heading back out into the department to walk to the car park. The usual team were gathering around the front desk, rallying more of the troops to join them for a drink in the pub.
"Are you up for it Ethan?" Rita said kindly, turning towards Ethan as he passed them. He hadn't been listening, so concentrating on not tripping as he walked across the department, that he blushed as he asked her to repeat herself. "Would you like to join us for a drink tonight?" she said, smiling as she rephrased the question to try and put him at ease. She'd seen something different about him these days as well, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
"Oh, um, sorry, I've – uh – got a thing, I mean, I can't make it tonight, maybe another time? Sorry Rita, everyone, I would have liked to, but..."
"Oh come off it," Cal joked. "You just don't want to show off how much of a lightweight you are – we all heard what happened in Magaluf." They all laughed, except Rita, although Ethan's cheeks burned.
"Shut up Cal," she said, leaping to Ethan's defence as he looked so uncomfortable. "It's not a problem at all Ethan, another time though?"
"D-definitely," Ethan agreed, already wondering how long it would be before he'd have to find another excuse.
