The Morning--At Seattle Grace
Jack's tray was crowded with two bananas, a bunch of grapes, a coarse-ground, whole grain wheatberry muffin and a mug of herbal tea. The chief had coffee and danish.
"I'm glad that you could get together with me this morning. I thought you might need a heads up about the group you are seeing today. One of the interns is Meredith Grey."
"Grey?" encouraged Jack, recognizing the last name as one that had figured into more than one conversation with this friend. But that had been more than twenty years ago. It was a common name, though. . .
"Yes, Jack, Grey. Ellis's daughter. She died this year, you know."
Jack shuffled through some papers. "You told me, she fell in Elliot Bay during the ferry accident. She was down for how long before you brought her back?"
"No, her mother. Ellis died." Jack looked up. "Oddly enough, the same day that Meredith was down. It was hours, Jack. She was down. . .I've never let myself calculate how long it was, but it was hours. Then just before, and I mean moments before, we got her back, Ellis died. Her valve surgery had been bumped because of the ferry. It would have saved her life, but because we were directing resources to the ferry survivors. . ."
"Including her own daughter." Jack thought a moment. Something was odd. "You found out the time of Ellis's death?"
"She died in my hospital, upstairs from where her daughter lived. It didn't take any amount of research. You know, she was lucid her first day here."
"Wait a minute, lucid? Lucidity was never Ellis's problem, Richard."
"Jack, she had Alzheimer's, Early Onset. I'd been visiting her in Rose Ridge. She was reliving the days of our residency. And then she came here. She was lucid for one day. That day. . .it was good. Then she died."
Jack made a sympathetic face that wasn't quite smiling; a smile would have been condescending, and Jack was anything but. Richard was a friend, a good friend. Jack knew the history here; he knew what his friend wasn't saying.
"Richard, do you know the difference between a surgeon and a psychologist?"
"No, Jack. What's the difference between a surgeon and a psychologist."
"When a psychologist needs a surgeon, he doesn't invite him to breakfast."
"Does that mean I should get Patricia to pencil me in?"
"Already taken care of, old friend. Already taken care of." Jack would make sure that his old friend was scheduled with his wife. He couldn't see Richard as a patient, not and keep any distance.
After breakfast, Dr. Webber escorted the Bursons to their temporary offices. Fortunately, the payroll and accounts payable departments had both recently moved off-site, and Patricia had managed to claim the space for at least a couple of months. They were actually offices, as well, complete with walls, doors and windows. Windows with blinds, so the hospital-at-large would have to work a little harder for its portion of gossip. The chief never asked Patricia—and she never volunteered any information—just how she had managed to furnish the offices, but the end results of her efforts were two rooms that bore little resemblance to offices, but rather appeared to be a casual den or tea room. A meeting space, to talk to friends. Or, you know, confess your inner fears to someone who has power over your career. They lacked the couches that a classic Freudian might require, but given enough pillows and an oversized ottoman, one could get pretty relaxed in either room.
Not only had Patricia worked her minor miracle with the spaces, but she had also managed to find a U-Dub undergrad hungry for any hospital experience, willing to work for close to minimum wage. Well, that, plus Margaret—that was her name, Margaret—had an understanding with Patricia that if she did her job, as mind-numbing as it was, there would be a nicely-worded letter of recommendation accompanying her applications to medical schools, signed by the chief of surgery at Seattle Grace. Margaret had also negotiated the privilege of sitting in the gallery to observe surgeries when her schedule allowed. She was a smart girl, and knew that if she played her cards right, the money would come later.
Margaret's duties were simple—tick off the names as they showed up for their appointments, inform Patricia (who would presumably inform Webber) when someone failed to show up. Keep the Bursons running on time. Prevent one arrogant doctor from barging into another's session with the Bursons. The rest of the time was her own. She could study for the single class she was taking this summer, solve a Sudoku or two, or even piggyback on the hospital connection to cruise the Internet. It was understood that of course, she wouldn't visit any porny sites, but she had to wonder if the sites with fanfictions for her favorite television show didn't cross that line. At least there weren't pictures. Usually, anyway.
That morning, after Margaret, Susan and Jack shared a 'get-to-know-you' coffee—or tea, for Jack—she gave them each the stacks of papers Patricia had delivered that day. For each intern or attending going through this counseling, there were two forms: a self-evaluation and a supervisor's evaluation. Each of these were very helpful if one was conducting career counseling, but their worth in this setting was questionable, at best. Margaret also gave them a photocopy of the schedule book, keeping the book for herself so she could confirm with the doctors their next appointments as they left.
"Who's up for you, Suze?"
"Hmm. That would be Meredith Grey. What a pretty name, you don't hear that much any more." Susan flipped through the stapled forms Margaret had given her, and fished out Dr. Grey's. It seemed slightly thicker than the others. "I think that instead of reading this before meeting her, I'll let her make her own first impression." She did look at the sticky note attached to the schedule. "Patricia makes a point that Meredith should be first. Hmmmm. Something about forcing her to max out her 80 hours so that Pat could manipulate the schedule. Hmmmm. . .
"What about you?"
"I have all attendings today, it seems. My first appointment is with Dr. Montgomery. Addison Montgomery."
They stopped speaking at the sound of the elevator chime. Their first compulsory appointments of the day had arrived.