Shattered: Chapter 37

"There is no point treating a depressed person as though she were just feeling sad, saying, 'There now, hang on, you'll get over it.' Sadness is more or less like a head cold - with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer." - Barbara Kingsolver, The Bean Trees

Monday, 29 December 2014

Cal had been kind enough in the days leading up to the assessment that he didn't push Ethan to talk. He mainly kept his distance (though more so directly after he went to see Aero) but his gaps between not being with Ethan were becoming more few and far between. He'd even taken to bringing in his laptop when he got home from work and simply keeping Ethan company. They didn't talk much. They didn't really need to. Cal had started to understand that just being with Ethan was enough to settle Ethan's mind a little.

It was something they often did when they were teenagers. They wouldn't talk, they might not even look at each other, but they would be with each other. Ethan suspected at first that Cal thought that act wouldn't be as beneficial to adult-Ethan as it would to teenage-Ethan, but it took no more than a longing look from Ethan one day when Cal went to leave his room for Cal to get the hint.

They spent much of Christmas day together. Not for any celebration or anything, Ethan couldn't understand the point in celebrating (or the point in anything) right now and Cal kindly respected that. It made Ethan's heart warm just with the consideration and delicacy that his brother showed him.

But it didn't really matter as Ethan got up that morning. People often dreaded getting up Monday morning when they had a nine to five weekday job (Ethan was told once that if he was in a job he loved, he'd never dread getting up on Monday, which only made him consider his time working in Holby ED if he dreaded every single day since the crash) and it was barely different for Ethan. Barely, because he wasn't going to work.

He was getting up, out of his soft, comfy safe-place for the first time in days for something other than necessity (and Cal dragging him to the shower) to go for a mental health assessment with a vitamin. Fantastic.

"Well done," Cal said, greeting him far more chirpily than he looked.

Ethan collapsed into a chair bonelessly. "What for?"

Cal nodded in the vague direction of the bathroom. "Showering."

"Don't patronise me," he said instantly, resting his head on the palm of his hand. God, his head felt heavy. Cal said nothing in response and Ethan sighed. "Sorry. Ignore me. I didn't mean that."

Cal sat down opposite him, depositing Ethan's plate of toast in front of him and tucking into his own cereal. "Don't worry about it, I get it."

They spent the next few minutes in silence, the only sounds coming from crunching and Cal sighing as he spilt milk on himself. Ethan wanted to laugh, a vaguely familiar bubble rose in his chest at the sight, but it didn't reach past his throat. It jammed itself in there. He wished he could unjam it.

"So-" Cal tapped nervously on the table "-how do you feel?"

Ethan took his fifth bite of the toast immediately to stall, despite it feeling like bites one to four had jammed in his throat along with his laughter.

"Stupid question?"

He looked properly at Cal for the first time that morning, guilt swelling inside him as he noticed the dark bags underneath his eyes and the way his leg bouncing underneath the table made his body intermittently move. "No, I just…" he sighed in frustration, "don't know how to answer it."

"You know that's okay, right? To not have an answer?"

Ethan nodded glumly. "I don't like not having an answer. I hate not knowing why some things happen, why I feel certain things. I know-" he said, before Cal could interrupt, "I'm a doctor, I know that sometimes there isn't a reason I can formulate. But still. It's frustrating."

"It'll be alright today. See's been in this job fifteen years so he can't be that bad," he said lightly.

"Well that's reassuring," he said sarcastically,

"Ethan. You know what I'm trying to say."

"Yes, Vitamin John must be alright or else he would have been fired."

"I wish you'd stop calling him that," Cal sighed.

Ethan merely tilted his head at him and Cal rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, okay, I get it. He sounds like a vitamin and you won't stop calling him that in a million years. If you carry on like that, though, neither might I."

Ethan half-smiled. "My cunning plan is revealed."

Cal snorted. "Oh, shut up."

Ethan entered the room nervously, pulling his sleeves down over his arms. It wasn't chilly but the window was open and there was a slight draft blowing in (and he was self-conscious about the marks, despite them being far further up his arms). Vitamin John gestured for him to take a seat and Ethan quickly obliged.

They were opposite in a setting Ethan knew far too well from his childhood. Except he wasn't a child. He was an adult with another adult and it was going to be okay (if he could get himself to stop shaking).

"John See," he said, holding his hand out for a handshake.

"Ethan. Hardy." (He hoped Vitamin John didn't realise how clammy his hands were, but the traitorous part of his brain just reinforced that of course, he could, you idiot.)

Vitamin John crossed his legs over one another, relaxing back in his chair. Ethan tried to do the same but found he was too stiff to move. He sat awkwardly in the opposite chair, looking anywhere but his face. At first, Vitamin John rambled on about who he was and his job and about the nature of confidentiality in the room. Then, when he was finally done with what sounded like a rehearsed introduction, he uncapped his pen and stared straight at Ethan.

"So, let's get started, shall we? I spoke with your brother on the phone a few days ago about this, but I was wondering why you're here, specifically?"

Ethan bit the inside of his lip. "I thought he would have told you that."

"Yes, he did. But I would like to hear it from you if you don't mind."

I do mind, he thought but knew better than to say it. That didn't mean he had anything to say in its place, though. "I… um. Well, for the last -" he paused to calculate it "- I guess for the last few months I've just… things haven't been great."

"In what way? Oh, and I hope you don't mind, I'll just be writing a few notes throughout this."

Ethan did mind but tried to ignore it. "I don't know, I just… I guess I've just been depressed?" He internally shuddered at the word he tried so hard to escape from when he was a kid.

Vitamin John cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "What do you mean depressed?"

You know that's okay, right? To not have an answer?

"I don't know."

Vitamin John smiled in a way that was probably mean to be reassuring. It just made Ethan angry. "You must know, surely."

I'm a doctor, I know that sometimes there isn't a reason I can formulate.

"I just don't know, I guess. It's hard to explain."

He scribbled something down. "Try."

I can't. The words stuck in his throat. After months of silence, talking about everything was hard. Especially with a stranger. But he wanted help… time to bite the bullet. "I just feel, sad I guess. All the time."

"Do you know the difference between 'sad' and 'depressed'?"

How bloody patronising. "I'm a doctor."

Vitamin John shrugged nonchalantly. "My question still stands."

"Yes," he said through ground teeth. "I know the difference."

"So, as a doctor, what you call 'depressed' could actually mean 'sad', wouldn't you say?"

Ethan looked at him disbelievingly.

"Your brother told me about the crash you were involved in. October, wasn't it?"

Ethan nodded, wishing he knew where this was going.

"Would you say this started before or after the crash?"

"After…"

He scribbled something down again. "Is there a chance you could be grieving for the person who died? Or it's the after-effects of going through something that traumatic and nearly dying?"

Ethan looked away, grinding his teeth. "If it helps, I have a history of depression."

"Oh yes, I know. But is there the possibility that that's clouding your judgement? For all anybody knows, this could just be as a result of the crash. You may just need time to get back to normal."

"It's not like that. I've tried!"

"Your brother says you've stopped going into work."

He dug his fingernails into his palms, glaring at him. "I can't."

"Why can't you?"

"I just can't," he insisted.

"Is there a reason?"

I mess up. I kill people. I can't be bothered to get out of bed most days. I'm a bad person. I deserve to be de- "There's something… it's hard to explain, really. Bad stuff happened while I was there, it… I'm a bad person."

He sighed, capping his pen and settIng it down. "We're not really getting anywhere right now. Ethan, level with me here. You have to give me proper reasons. I can't help you otherwise."

Ethan stayed silent, shame building up inside him, and Vitamin John sighed.

"Okay. Let's reset." He uncapped the pen again. "Your brother says you stopped going into work, when was that?"

Ethan breathed deeply. Reset, okay. "I don't know, really. It's on and off."

He looked at Ethan questionably. "So you go to work some of the time and not other times?"

Ethan sat up even straighter than before. "It's not how it sounds."

Vitamin John shook his head. "You can't just duck in and out whenever you feel like it."

"Yes, I know. Sometimes I feel like I can go in… sometimes I can't."

"Why?"

Ethan sighed. "I don't know."

"What made you go into work those times?"

Finally, a chance to explain. "Um, well I didn't want to cause a problem. Being understaffed in an ED isn't preferable."

Vitamin John tapped his pen on the paper a couple of times. "In my experience, if someone can't go into work, they can't go into work at all. Not for anything."

Ethan felt his heart clench. It wasn't that simple.

"You can't just not go in because you don't feel like it."

"It was easier those times. To get out of bed." He absentmindedly scratched at his upper arm. "It's hard usually."

"What made you get out of bed today?"

"Um, I wanted help I guess. I want to stop feeling like this."

He nodded thoughtfully, writing more down. "And what's 'this'?"

"It's hard to explain," he said, they'd been here before. "I just feel down, like the world is crashing around me."

"Hmm. What's your sleeping like?"

"Um. Sometimes it's hard to fall asleep. Most nights I get nightmares."

"About the crash?"

Well, that's not a leading question at all. "Occasionally."

There was an uncomfortable silence where he wrote something else down and turned the page. "You have a history of self-harm."

Ethan's toes clenched at the word.

"Is it something currently happening now?"

He felt his heart speed up and he couldn't answer for a few moments. "I used to."

"How long ago is used to?"

Blood pumped in his ears. He knew that everything was confidential up until a point. If he was a danger to himself or someone else it wasn't, and he didn't know whether that was dangerous enough. "I don't know, I don't keep track. I stopped ages ago."

"And if I asked to see?"

"Scars, that's all."

"Have you ever thought about suicide? I know in the past you've made attempts."

That didn't take long. "It's normal to think about death."

"And suicide?"

You're not a danger to yourself, you're not a danger to yourself. And he also wanted help, how could he ask without being a danger to himself? "Maybe."

"Have you got a plan?"

Maybe. "What do you mean?" he said, stalling while he thought. Now he's assessing if you're a danger to yourself, for real.

"A plan to kill yourself. Have you got one?"

Yes. He hesitated. "No."

"So, have any interests?" he said after a few moments and scribbles.

Ethan finally clicked what was happening with the diverting conversation topics (and really wished he didn't). He had a checklist. A depression symptoms checklist and he was going through them, one by one. Like Ethan was a noticeboard. A robot with yes and no answers and reasons for everything.

"Not really."

"What do you do when you don't go to work then?"

"Lie in bed."

"Doing what?"

"Nothing, really. Thinking." About how I kill people. About how I'm a bad person.

He sighed, "well, I won't ask you what you've been thinking about because you obviously won't tell me. So, how's your eating?"

And Ethan realised right then that if he had just asked and bothered to look like he cared, Ethan might have actually told him. The words were on the tip of his tongue… all he had to do was ask. He just wanted someone who could help him, someone who looked like he gave a damn about something other than the paycheck.

He glanced at the clock. It had only been fifteen minutes. It was an hour assessment. He had a feeling it was going to be the longest forty-five minutes of his life.

"I don't really know how we can help you, Ethan."

Ethan twisted his sleeves in his hands. He'd just spent the last hour trying to talk to this guy about his problems, about how he could barely eat and sleep and how he just didn't feel happy and the only way he could describe it was feeling nothing at all and how he wished he could put the universe on pause ("That's a bit childish don't you think?" Vitamin John had responded) and how everything was going wrong... and all the professional he did was shut him down and doubt him and move on and scribble things down with an annoying squeaking ball-point pen. "Fine. I'll just leave here and never come back and you can just forget about me. Sorry for wasting your time."

"No, you haven't wasted my time," sighing like Ethan definitely had just wasted his time. "Just, there might not be a lot we can do. Maybe some talking therapy might help but there's a long wait for that because we have to prioritise the people who need help."

Ethan sighed, he should have gone with his gut instinct and not come. He shouldn't have tricked himself into thinking he might get help. That someone might realise that he was breaking apart.

"Not that you don't need help, but you seem okay right now. I mean, you're grieving and it's a normal process to go through. Your mind is processing the accident. But you've got your brother and you're not in any immediate danger from what I can assess."

"Can I go now?"

Vitamin John wrote something down on a slip of paper. "Give this to reception and they can give you an appointment for talking therapy in about seven to nine months time. There is a waiting list, I'm afraid. You probably won't even need it by that point."

Ethan just nodded, getting up and making to leave.

"Good luck, Ethan," he said, moving to shake his hand.

Ethan returned it, "thanks," he ground out.

As he exited the office, he scrunched up the piece of paper in his hand and threw it in the bin on his way out. He met Cal in the car, buckled up his seatbelt and said nothing. Cal didn't ask and they drove home in silence, Ethan staring out the window the whole way home and wondering why he even bothered to think he could get help.

You're worth help, Ethan, Cal had said to him on the drive there.

Ethan watched the houses move by in a blur, tears welling in his eyes as they got closer and closer to their flat. No, I'm not. I'm not worth anything. Not even life.

A/N: Okay okay so disclaimer of sorts. Yep, this is problematic as fuck, but it's not that unrealistic. The NHS is great and 90% of the time it works out well. I've known a fair few people who've battled mental health problems and the NHS is great and helped them, but a lot of Ethan's battle with his mental health stems from my personal experience (obviously I still alter it a lot to fit the narrative of the story) and therefore this conversation does too. Apart from the alterations, this is based off an assessment I had a few years ago with a mental health, so it's not all that unrealistic. That being said, I'm not trying to put people off from seeking help. As I said earlier, I've known more people than not who've had a good experience with mental health services on the NHS. It's not perfect, but it's good, and you never know if you don't try. Idk, I've definitely buried this experience and my thought process behind it happening to Ethan is because life isn't perfect and sometimes shit things happen. This is one of them, unfortunately. Yeah. I hope you enjoyed.

casfics: thank you! yep cal really should at this point, hopefully he will now but ethan has to talk to him first and both of them can fail on that part, haha. thanks for your review!

pxnic-at-mxdnight: falling apart is definitely accurate here oh deaaaarrrr. thank you ahh! yeah aero really is just a timebomb ticking the seconds down until disaster... mwuhaha. thank you for your review! (it really doesn't, doesn't it? sad as it is, i love that quote)