A/N: Sorry I went AWOL for so long. I got some bad news back in early February and I didn't feel like writing or being online or doing a whole lot of anything for a while. Anyways, I'm back now, and while I make zero promises about updates, I will promise not to go AWOL for so long again. Anyways, enjoy.
–R
When I think about dying, I think about more than just clouds and pearly gates and angels that hug me as I get there. I think about darkness and deafening silence and unbearable cold. I think about fire and nightmares and evil laughter. I think about more than just one possibility.
When I was in the hospital the first time, Dr. King made me talk about my feelings with a psychiatrist. He had told me his name was Ryan and he was there to help and all the other crap they normally tell kids in therapy. I never believed him, but I knew I had to play his game. I got bored with his feelings talk, so we discussed death a lot.
I had considered death briefly before I got sick, a flash in the back of my mind when my stomach felt like it was eating itself or when I was so cold I thought I would just die from hypothermia. But it was always that, brief, gone in the next moment like it had never been there before.
I remember the first time I really considered it for more than just a moment was when I was so sick I couldn't move. Mom had been gone for a while and had just left me on my own. She had done it before, but this time, I knew something was really wrong. I laid on the couch and contemplated what it would mean to be dead.
More than that however, I considered who would miss me if I was gone. And I came to the startling conclusion that no one really would. Mom was always more interested in everything but me, I didn't know my dad– mom had never told me his name, and I couldn't think of anyone at school or anywhere else, that would truly even notice I was gone.
Eventually, the police came and the super let them in and I was rushed to the hospital via ambulance. They thought I was malnourished and dying. Granted I was, but I remember crystal clear, that was the night I embraced death rather than shrunk back in fear from it.
It was surreal, but the idea of death comforted me in those days, and still does sometimes. I never would wish to die, not anymore, but it was calming to know that if I did die, it couldn't get much worse.
Death holds this mystic power. It is something we innately fear, but it is comforting and provides this surreal sense of relief. But I guess until you are looking death in the eye, and able to truly stare it down, you can't really find peace in it.
The first sounds that enter my conscious are incessant beeping. Then, as I am able to come further out of the fog my brain seems to be clouded in, I hear the measured sounds of a ventilator. It takes me a while to place why I'm hearing the hiss of oxygen pressing in and out, and the sound of Dr. Shepherd's voice helps to guide me further in the right direction.
"EJ, I need you to stay calm. I need you to be awake before I can take the tube out. I know it's uncomfortable and you don't like it." I hear him moving around and I can feel what I guess is his hand holding mine.
I peel my eyes open to see Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Karev standing above me. I blink a few times to pull them into focus. And the first thing I see is the smiles on their faces, it almost looks like their grins will break their faces. It's nice to know I'm not alone.
I blink a bunch to clear the fuzziness and some of it remains but it clears a good bit. Now that my eyes are open I can see that the pressure in my chest is the result of the ventilator down my throat. I can feel my eyes widen in fear and I guess I go as white as a sheet as Dr. Karev starts explaining.
"The ventilator was just a precaution. We need you to be a bit more awake and alert before we can take it out, okay? So, I need you to stay calm for me. No panicking, okay?"
I want to respond that yes, I understand, but I can't and I guess Dr. Shepherd picks up on this. "Blink once for yes, twice for no." I blink once really hard.
"Good," Dr. Shepherd smiles and turns to make a motion at the door. I still feel so confused and unsure about what in the world is going on. "EJ, we are going to be taking out the tube now. It's going to be very uncomfortable but it will be worse if we leave it in. Are you ready?"
I blink once for yes.
SWIDW~SWIDW~SWIDW
"EJ, I'm so glad you're okay!" I look up to see Ms. Keller, my social worker, and I'm more than a bit disappointed. I'm definitely not her biggest fan.
Social workers are an interesting hybrid of caring and too busy that results in an advocate who is overly joyful to see you but who will disappear for long stretches of time between visits.
Ms. Keller is her own special kind of advocate. If social workers are from mars, Ms. Keller is from Venus. She means well but she's too cheerful from my tastes.
When I first met her, of course I didn't think much of her. I was a scared 5-year-old who thought I just needed to say the truth and then I'd get to go home. She reminded me a lot of my teacher at the time who's name I no longer recall. Ms. Keller was overly joyful and wore too bright colors and spoke way too condescendingly. She really was the cliché of a kindergarten teacher with the irony being I don't think she would've lasted five minutes as a kindergarten teacher- it would've been far too messy and with way too many kids running around.
"I was worried sick when your foster parents called to say you'd gone missing! I told them not my Emerson!" I hate that she calls be by that, I've told her a million times I prefer EJ and if she didn't want to use that, I'd go by my middle name- James.
I don't know what the heck my mom was thinking when she named me Emerson. For starters, it's a great way to get made fun of in school. And then there are only two nicknames you can get out of it- Emmy, which is a girl's name, and Sonny, which reminds me way too much of a grandpa calling you Sonny because he can't actually remember your name.
I have always gone by my initials, but I wouldn't mind going by James either- it has a nice ring to it. Whenever I would imagine myself living with the Weskits permanently, like being adopted by them, I always imagined changing my name and becoming James Weskit. I always felt like the Major would be proud to introduce us and say, 'these are my four sons- Henry, Peter, James and Nathan'. I would imagine us going to fancy dinner parties when the Major was transferred to D.C. like Henry always insisted would happen, and I imagined us lined up and being introduced to important people– people like the president. James was far more normal and I always thought that having a normal name would help me fit in with them. I thought that having a normal name would make the Weskits want to keep me.
One other thing I despise about Ms. Keller is that she rambles in a high-pitched voice, and more often than not, she forgets that she's not supposed to be delivering a monologue but having a conversation.
I have the nurse call button in my grasp from when Dr. Shepherd had to rush off and handed it to me, in case I needed anything. Of course, I know the drill with major brain surgery- don't get up on your own, sleep a lot, no solid foods for a while, but I let him give the spiel anyways because talking felt like an Olympic sport– still does as my brain swims with Ms. Keller's voice. So, I push hard on the button and wait for a nurse to show up.
"What were you thinking young man? You ditched school and what, hitch-hiked across the country? Are you insane?"
I try to protest that I'm not stupid, that I actually had money saved up and was smart about it. I want to tell her that I took the train into the city and then took the Amtrak to Chicago before I stopped for a day and then rode a greyhound to Seattle and the metro to the hospital. But I can't make my mouth form the words and I can't even lift my arm enough to signal her to stop.
Instead, I am beyond grateful when one of the doctors walks in and I can at least widen my eyes enough to show that I could use some help getting Ms. Keller to leave me alone. Luckily this doctor is pretty smart.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Wilson and I'm one of EJ's doctors." The woman sticks her hand out to shake Ms. Keller's and I smile just a bit at her bewildered expression at being cut off. "And I'm actually going to have to ask you to step out so I can run some tests with EJ."
Ms. Keller leaves, grumbling about how she's supposed to be in charge and a bunch of other stuff I can't hear. I want to tell Dr. Wilson thank you, but I can't find the energy to form the words so I just smile at her.
"How are you feeling EJ?" she asks as she steps up to me and begins fiddling with the monitors and my IVs. When I don't respond, she looks down at me and smiles a bit. "too tired to talk?" I nod a small bit and she smiles wider. "alright, I'll just run a couple quick tests then and then we'll get you comfy and set for a nap, sound good?" I nod a bit again and her smile grows again.
SWIDW~SWIDW~SWIDW
"Have a good nap EJ?" I blink a few times to bring Dr. Shepherd into focus and smile. "Still having trouble speaking?"
I give a small nod as my muscles are too weak for much else. The nod knocks my nasal cannula loose and Dr. Shepherd reaches to adjust it back on my face.
"Don't worry, that was expected. We'll get you back to fighting strength in the next few days. Right now, its key that you rest. Are you in any pain?" Dr. Shepherd asks and I give two shorter blinks to signal that no, I'm not in pain, rather than nod and knock the cannula out again.
I want to tell him that being awake requires herculean efforts and that everything feels like way too much work but I can't so I just settle for letting him know I'm not in pain.
"Good." Dr. Shepherd types something on the iPad in his hands and then looks up at me. "There's some people who would like to see you. You think you can handle a few visitors?"
I blink once knowing that I won't be awake for too long, and knowing Dr. Shepherd will kick whoever it is out before they completely exhaust me.
"Alright," Dr. Shepherd steps to the door and speaks to someone in the hall, "EJ is awake if you guys want to come say hi for a few minutes."
I can't hear what the visitors say, but Dr. Shepherd steps back some and I see them– Major Weskit and Mrs. Weskit, both teary-eyed and approaching slowly.
"Oh EJ, you had us so worried." Mrs. Weskit rushes up to me and grips my right hand very tightly, as she speaks. "When you didn't come home from school we were so worried." She looks to the Major, who stands to my left, as she continues with, "And then we saw the messages on the machine from the school and we didn't know what to think."
Mrs. Weskit's eyes get too teary and she takes her hand back so she can cover her sobs up some. I hear the Major's deep baritone voice speaking over her sobs. "Karen, it's alright. He's ok." The Major walks to Mrs. Weskit and holds her tight. I can't decide if he's angry at me or relieved to see I'm okay with his own two eyes. "What can you tell us doc?" His hard gaze moves from me to Dr. Shepherd. He can be quite intimidating when he wants to be.
Dr. Shepherd steps forward and begins explaining in a strong voice, obviously not fazed by the Major's harsh gaze and strict voice. "EJ's type of cancer is highly aggressive, as I'm sure you are both aware," his voice is just as strong as the Major's. "When he got here, he presented with a large mass on his brain. It was crucial that we remove it right away. We were successful in getting all of the tumor with clean margins."
This is the first time I have heard about the success of the surgery and there is the faintest of smiles creeping on my face at his words. I know that no matter how mad the Weskits are at me for running away, I will never regret it because of the genuine happiness I feel at the prospect of the brain tumor being eradicated by the infamous neurosurgeon Dr. Derek Shepherd.
"EJ still has a long recovery ahead of him but I am optimistic. He has already proven that he is a fighter. The next step will be two rounds of chemotherapy and radiation for a month before we do surgery to remove the masses in his abdomen and on his spine."
The gasp that comes from Mrs. Weskit is loud and painful to hear. I never wanted to hurt this sweet woman who took such great care of me. What's more shocking however is the tears I see drip from the Major's eyes at the prospect of the cancer being so advanced. I never thought Major Weskit was capable of crying, much less that the prospect of his foster son being sick would be the reason. I always thought he saw my sickness as a nuisance. Maybe that's why I ran away. Maybe it's just because I'm scared that they won't keep me and I can't take another rejection. I just want to protect myself from the pain that occurs when I think of being abandoned and cast aside yet again.
My eyes begin to droop as I try to keep listening to Dr. Shepherd's plan for me. I want to know the game plan, it makes me less nervous to know what's happening. But my blinks end up elongating as the exhaustion overwhelms me. The last thing I hear as I shut my eyes for longer and let sleep engulf me is Dr. Shepherd suggesting they speak in the hallway to let me rest while Mrs. Weskit tries to hold in her cries. I want to tell her I'm okay, that I'll be okay, but I decide that can wait for later.
