Chapter 20: Facing the Consequences
"Dr. Shepherd-Hunt, I'd like to hear your version of what occurred in the OR earlier," Jackson stated stoically as he and Amelia sat in the conference room.
Amelia grinned, "The patient was scheduled for an aneurysm clip. The OR was booked for what I anticipated would be a relatively brief procedure. Once I examined the area, I discovered two additional aneurysms that were not readily apparent on the CT. I was interrupted at a key point in the procedure, asked when I would be finished, and then told I had 20 minutes. Unintentionally, I dropped my instrument and had to make do with a sub-par replacement. I asked Dr. Edwards to inform the Chief of Surgery that I would be another two hours at the most. She returned with a message from him sharing that I could have the OR for no more than one hour, questioning my pre-op testing, and suggesting another course of action in the future. I asked Dr. Edwards to inform him that he would need to pry the tool from my hands if he wanted me to stop the surgery and close. Dr. Hunt believed the continuation of the surgery was non-emergent. Our medical opinions on the urgency of the procedure differed. He chose to have me tagged out by a subordinate then confronted me in the scrub area, informed me I was benched, and blocked my exit."
"And that's all?" Jackson queried as if her highlights were not enough of a concern.
Amelia nodded, "I believe so."
"Did you have words with him in the hallway after you scrubbed out?" Jackson probed.
"Yes, we did," Amelia confirmed.
Confirming the reports, he'd received, Jackson attempted to clarify, "And were those words delivered at a heightened volume? Did your statement include calling the Chief of Surgery something that...let's see, how shall I put this? Calling him something seldom heard in a hospital hallway?"
"Dr. Avery…I called him a son of a bitch. That label would not have been used with any other colleague," Amelia explained with a grin, "He is my husband as well."
"Not that it's any of my business, Dr. Shepherd-Hunt, but do you usually go around calling your husband a son of a bitch?" Jackson stared into Amelia's eyes with seriousness.
Looking up toward the ceiling, Amelia admitted, "Point taken."
Jackson continued to look directly at Amelia as he paused and considered his next words. Before he spoke, Amelia inquired, "Dr. Avery, why are we here? Physicians – especially surgeons - exchange choice words. I fully take responsibility for losing my temper with my husband. Had anyone else pressured me to complete an unfinished surgery, the conversation would not have escalated in the same manner."
"Dr. Shepherd-Hunt," Jackson continued after a large sigh, "the issue is the degree to which you lost your temper and the workplace environment created by your behavior. Your portion of the exchange with Dr. Hunt in the scrub area was clearly heard by those performing surgery in the OR and your portion of the hallway conversation was overheard by numerous staff. This is not just about a lover's quarrel."
Amelia half-laughed, half-inquired, "Would you like me to issue a formal apology? Furthermore, my course of action has proven to be correct. I just came from informing a mother of three that she is now a widow. Had I been allowed to operate as I saw fit, she may not be sobbing as we speak. Given that, I'm still a little unclear why we are here."
"Grey-Sloan expects civility and respect among colleagues rather than medical road rage. Your actions were troublesome. I'm sure you are aware of the many studies linking disruptive behavior and increased errors. Our goal is to assist you in preventing errors." Jackson leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "You basically have two choices: you can go along with my recommended course of action or have the case reviewed by the Board."
"The case?" Amelia repeated with surprise.
"This isn't the first time you and Dr. Hunt have publicly shared choice words," Jackson reminded her.
"And Dr. Hunt – he's the superior here, so he is not facing similar conversation?" Amelia attempted to clarify.
Jackson pursed his lips, "We're not going down that rabbit trail." He continued, "Since your first offense was not recorded in your file, my recommendation is that a warning be placed in your file with the understanding that if this is to occur again, a formal reprimand and anger management training will be required in order to keep your credentials at Grey-Sloan. You are welcome to accept my recommendation or to bring your situation before the Board."
"The Board? On which my brother and Dr. Hunt both sit?" Amelia responded.
"Since they were both involved, they would be recused in this case," Jackson made clear.
Amelia nodded slowly, "I see. May I emphasize one point, Dr. Avery?"
"Absolutely," Jackson stated.
"In my interactions with all other staff throughout the tension, I kept my head cool and remained pleasant and calm. I believe that should be noted," Amelia indicated. "I absolutely did not let the disagreement with Dr. Hunt interfere with my responsibilities or interactions with staff."
"Understood and understandable. I'm willing to note that in the warning, which I will show to you before it is placed in your file. At that time, you will again have the option to accept it or go before the Board."
Amelia nodded slowly once again and then asked for clarification, "Dr. Hunt ordered me to avoid patient interactions the rest of my shift. Does that still stand?"
"It's been a tense day, Doctor. I think it would be best if you went home and took an opportunity to clear your head," Jackson mandated. "Let's start fresh on Monday, ok?"
"Absolutely," Amelia agreed as she stood up and extended her hand to Jackson, "Thank you for your time. I apologize for taking you away from more pressing matters, Dr. Avery."
Amelia stepped out of the room calmly and headed toward her office. April, hovering further down the hall, walked toward the conference room. She entered and closed the door. "How'd it go?" she asked with angst.
"I can't talk about it. You shouldn't even know I had the discussion with her, April," Jackson looked up wearily.
April walked behind Jackson and rubbed his shoulders, "Well, I can support my husband and ask how his stressful day is unfolding, can't I?"
Jackson leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, "Mmm…I suppose so. Off the record, it went fine, but I hate this arrangement with her. It puts me in a weird spot."
Leaning down to kiss his head, April sympathized, "I'm sorry you had to deal with that, but I'm sure you were brilliant."
Amelia, not thinking ahead that Owen would need a way home, drove to the house. She was angry at herself, furious with Owen, and frustrated in general. Although she knew that she should go directly to a meeting, she stopped at the grocery store instead and bought a bottle of red wine. She arrived at the house, gathered some belongings and headed out to the guest house. Taking all the guest house keys with her, she decided she would separate herself away from the world and her husband until she had calmed down.
Owen persisted in attempting to reach Amelia via cell. She finally blocked his number so she wouldn't even know when he tried to call or text. The hospital called about 45 minutes after she'd set up the block. She let the call go to voicemail and then checked the message. She poured herself a glass of wine and looked at it as her heart pounded and quickened. The message was from Owen, who had called from his office.
Hey, I'm really sorry about how today went down. Look, Amelia, call me. Let's talk, ok? I understand Jackson spoke with you – I had nothing to do with that. Call me. I love you.
Amelia grabbed her phone and texted Owen; I'm staying in the guest house. I'd like to be alone. Since she had blocked Owen's phone, his response bounced back. As she drank the first glass of wine in gulps, she began sobbing. She grabbed the bottle, walked over to the couch, and looked out the window at the water.
When she'd successfully polished off nearly all of the bottle in about an hour, Amelia became anxious about having drank. She called Richard Webber and reached his voicemail, leaving a message that slurred, Richard, it's Amelia. Amelia Shepherd-Hunt. Call me, ok? Please. Not knowing Richard was in surgery, she became antsier the longer she waited for his call.
She decided to walk up to the house and see if there was any wine in the kitchen. As she stumbled her way through the door, knocking over a plant then bumping into the wall. She scoured the kitchen and found some champagne someone had given Owen when they bought the house. The idea of drinking something celebratory on such a rotten day caused her to laugh aloud. As she grabbed the bottle and began to walk back to the guest house, her phone rang.
"Amelia..." Richard's voice said with concern. "What's going on?"
"Come on over, Richard," Amelia mused drunk and happy. "I'm celebrating. Come join me."
Whispering into the phone, Richard observed aloud, "You're drunk."
"Just a couple drinks. Not a big deal," Amelia argued. "Skip out of work and come join me – it's a beautiful sunny day and I've moved into the boat house by the water."
"Amelia…"
"What?" she giggled; her inhibitions long buried in the wine bottle.
"I'm on my way. Stay in the house and wait for me," Richard firmly but gently commanded. Then he lied hoping to keep her from further drinking, "You know, I could use a drink. Save what you have left, ok?"
Amelia laughed, "What the hell else would I do?"
"Just stay in the house and drink some water," Richard repeated. Richard hung up the phone as Bailey approached him. "I will call you from the car in just a minute."
"Okey doke," Amelia chirped.
After Richard hung up his phone, Bailey walked by and greeted him, "How's your day? I'll bet you're glad you're not Chief today, huh?"
"What do you mean?" Richard asked, unaware of the drama of the morning.
Leaning closely toward him, Bailey disclosed, "Apparently Chief Hunt and Dr. Shepherd-Hunt exchanged some choice words in the hallway and OR. Hunt sent the older Dr. Shepherd in to tag out the younger Shepherd and quite a conversation emerged. Ends up the patient died and might not have if she'd proceeded with her surgical plan. I'm not sure if it's true, but the scuttlebutt is that Avery laid down the law with her for throwing a fit and after that he sent her home."
Richard looked at her with a hint of shock, "How do you find these matters out?"
"I know people," Bailey shrugged, "and I'm a good listener."
Patting her on the back, Richard reached in his pocket for his car keys and headed toward the front door, "I need you to cover for me, Bailey. Call me if you need me to come back."
Bailey's face scrunched up in confusion, "Ok. Will do." As she walked toward the Pit, she thought to herself, Where the hell is he going?
"I'm driving into the driveway right now," Richard reassured a now crying Amelia via his Bluetooth. She had finished the bottle of wine while she waited for him to arrive. After the last glass, her mood had shifted from euphoria to anxiety. Richard parked his car and headed to the door of the pool house. Amelia had stumbled over to the door and unlocked it while Richard was on his way over.
Richard let himself in and sighed with disappointment as he put their dinner in the fridge. Amelia was sitting on the couch sniffling and sipping water. An empty wine glass was also on the coffee table in front of her. Richard scanned the room quickly, looking for any sign of drugs or pills. He did not see any and he greeted her, "Hi Amelia."
"Richard, what the hell have I done? Owen's probably going to throw me out and divorce me, my brother will never talk to me again. I'm going to lose my job and I can barely stand. I'm a useless, stupid drunk," she rambled as mascara run down her cheeks.
"Now's not the time to worry about all that. How much have you had to drink?" Richard asked. He estimated her BAC wasn't life threatening or too high to cause major concern. He decided he'd sit with her for a few hours until she began to sober up. Amelia repeated her fear about having relapsed and exaggerated how her mistake was going to ruin her life.
"How about we find something on TV," he suggested after she'd repeated her story three times. He mumbled to himself, No use reasoning with a drunk or trying to sort out all that drama right now. Sitting down on the couch next to her and putting his arm around her, they found a movie to watch. Periodically, she sobbed into his chest and tried to make sense of her fears and the potential consequences coming her way.
After about 5 hours, Amelia and Richard had eaten and Amelia had begun to sober up. "Richard, I can't thank you enough for coming over," she groaned as she drank more water.
"What are you going to tell Owen?" Richard asked seriously.
"It was only this time. It won't happen again," Amelia attempted to dismiss his question.
Richard shook his head as he looked at her, "You don't know that, Amelia. This morning, did you think you'd down a bottle of wine before the day was over?" Amelia let out a deep breath and looked at Richard.
Richard's phone rang and he shifted his gaze to the screen. Choosing to answer it, Richard disclosed, "It's Owen." Amelia could not gather the point of their conversation because she could only hear Richard's side, which was mostly yeses, noes, and brief responses. Richard pulled the phone from his mouth and covered it with his hand, "Your brother brought him home, and they saw my car. Owen would like to come down here."
Shaking her head repeatedly, Amelia declared with tears gathering in her eyes, "I can't face him right now."
Bringing the phone back to his mouth, Richard explained, "Maybe not just yet, Owen." After Owen responded, Richard responded, "You are correct. One moment." Pulling the phone down again, Richard raised his eyebrows as he told Amelia, "He's insisting that he is coming down. I think the time has come for you to face the music, but, ultimately, that's up to you."
"I'll go clean myself up a little. Thanks again for coming over, Richard," Amelia said.
"We'll talk tomorrow," Richard insisted. "Tonight, call your sponsor like you promised me you would."
Amelia nodded and sniffled, "Yeah. I will. Thanks." She walked to the bathroom and seconds later, Owen walked in. He looked around and asked, "Where is she?"
Calmly, Richard stood up and patted Owen on the shoulder. "She's in the other room. She'll be out soon. Be gentle – it's been a tough day for her."
Owen nodded and distractedly agreed, "Yeah, yeah. Will do. Thanks for being with her, Richard."
"Sure," Richard responded as he headed toward the door. Owen spotted the empty wine bottle and wine glass on the coffee table as well as the unopened champagne bottle on the counter.
"Richard," Owen added, "it's obvious she drank. Did she take any pills?"
Turning to face Owen, Richard simply looked at him with an expressionless face. He turned back toward the door and walked to his car.
Once Richard was outside, Owen called out, "Mia?"
With red, swollen eyes, Amelia stepped out of the bathroom and announced, "I'm right here." She walked over to the couch, wrapped herself in a blanket, and sat down facing the water.
Owen let out a shocked breath and reflected, "Can we talk?"
"I told you through Richard that I wasn't ready," Amelia explained without turning to look at her husband.
Walking over to the couch and sitting in a nearby chair, Owen rested his elbows on his legs and leaned toward his wife. "Amelia…I'm at a loss here. This morning was bad for both of us. Looking at the coffee table, I'd say this afternoon was quite an adventure for you." Reluctantly, he added with an uncomfortable and confused grin, "I'm…I'm not so sure I'm the one who needs to be apologizing but somehow I'm gathering you don't agree."
"I never said that, Owen," Amelia retorted as she looked at him. She ran her hand through her hair and held her hair up on the back of her head. "I have a lot to apologize for, but your constant pursuit is not helping me sort out my thoughts. I'm not discussing this right now."
"Why the hell not?" Owen inquired with a small burst of energy as he stood up and paced around the room. "Amelia, I'm your husband. Your husband. But instead of trying to sort everything out with me, you ignored my calls and texts and called Richard? Why would that be, Mia?"
Amelia shook her head and put her hand up in front of her, "Look, I'm not doing this right now."
Owen became tense as he asked, "What am I supposed to think? Or do? My wife has a problematic day but avoids me and my attempts to support her. Help me navigate your needs here, Amelia, because I'm at a loss."
"I need some space and some peace and quiet," she explained as she looked out the window pushing on her temple.
Owen folded his arms and asked, "And what if I'm not willing to provide that right now?"
"Excuse me?" Amelia questioned sharply.
He walked over and sat near her. She turned away from him and curled into the corner of the couch. Clearing his throat, Owen began speaking softly, "My gut is telling me to not leave you alone."
Amelia's eyes flashed over to Owen as she snapped, "Your gut or your codependence?"
"I don't deserve that comment, Amelia," Owen retorted factually.
"Owen, I'm not sure how else to say this to you: I do not want to talk. I want to be alone. I'd like you to leave," she spelled out.
Owen's eyes saddened as Amelia built an emotional wall between them. He stared at her with a deflated gaze. Moving so that his back and head leaned against the back of the couch, he put his feet up on the coffee table and looked through the window at the water. In the silence, they could hear the water lapping against the rocks just outside the house.
The quiet persisted for over 30 minutes before Amelia's phone rang. She didn't reach for it. Owen looked over at her and calmly questioned, "Are you going to answer that?"
"Who is it?" she asked, assuming he'd picked up the phone.
Owen leaned forward and grasped the phone. "Charlotte King," he read aloud from the caller ID.
Twisting around quickly, Amelia grabbed the phone and turned back to the corner of the couch as she answered with a tired and hoarse voice, "Charlotte."
In her matter-of-fact manner, Charlotte observed, "Amelia. You sound like hell."
Amelia laughed softly, "Well, yeah, that fits."
"What's wrong?" Charlotte asked, getting right to the point.
Sighing heavily, Amelia said, "Just a minute…" She stood up and whispered to Owen, "Excuse me." Owen raised his eyebrows and folded his arms, unsure why Amelia was willing to take Charlotte's call but was not willing to speak with him. He wasn't even sure who Charlotte King was.
Amelia stepped outside, leaving Owen alone on the couch inside. "I drank today," she confessed to Charlotte.
"How much?" Charlotte peppered.
"A bottle of wine in a little over an hour. I had a crappy day that blew up…" Amelia began to reason.
Charlotte interrupted, "Amelia, the first question is why you didn't call me sooner or why you didn't go to a meeting. You know the drill and you know you don't want to head down this path again, right?"
"Yeah," Amelia muttered. After a pause in the conversation, Amelia added, "I did try to call you. That's why you're calling me back, remember? I left a voicemail."
"Oh hell, I guess you're right," Charlotte admitted. "Now, that we've sorted that out, do you want to tell me about it?"
Amelia put her free hand over her face as she leaned against the outside of the guest house. Starting to cry, she disclosed, "I don't even know where to begin."
Responding gently, Charlotte prodded, "Anywhere you'd like. Just start."
"I was operating, and my husband came in the OR…" Amelia began.
Surprised, Charlotte interrupted, "Husband?"
Laughing softly, Amelia filled in the details, "I married a wonderful man named Owen. He's the Chief of Staff at the hospital. We just bought an incredible house on the lake. Life was great until I messed it all up this morning."
"Keep going," Charlotte urged.
"Owen came in to get an estimate on when I'd be finished in the OR because we were backed up with surgeries. I snapped, he pulled rank, I snapped again, he roared at me while I scrubbed out, I snapped even more and called him a Son of a Bitch in the hallway," Amelia detailed.
Charlotte interjected, "I would have slapped you."
"Yeah, I know you would have," Amelia chuckled. "Anyway, my boss – we have this weird arrangement since Owen can't be my boss, so another member of the Board serves that role – anyway, he sent me home. I was pissed, I was embarrassed, I was still furious with Owen and growing angrier with myself, and…"
"You drank," Charlotte completed Amelia's sentence.
"I stopped at a store, bought a bottle of wine, drank it all and called another doctor who's also in AA when I fell from happy drunk to sloppy, paranoid drunk. He came over, sat with me, fed me some dinner, and just left when Owen came home," Amelia concluded.
Charlotte asked, "Your husband is there now?"
"Yeah," Amelia confirmed.
"Then why the hell are you talking to me?" Charlotte asked. "Amelia, running to your fellow addicts in a moment of crisis is one thing, but you're not going to strengthen your marriage if you run to us in front of him. You need to talk to him about this. He knows your history, right?"
"He knows," Amelia stated.
"So why are you and I talking right now?" Charlotte pushed.
Amelia became teary as she responded, "I've messed up, Charlotte. I don't know what he's going to do or say. I'm afraid. What if he tells me to get the hell out or that he's leaving me? What if he fires me from the hospital?"
Charlotte sighed audibly, "Amelia, you won't know the answers to those questions until you sit down with him. You've fucked up, now you have to face the consequences. At least you're not lying in a ditch somewhere. Life could be worse right now, right?"
"I'm scared," Amelia eeked out weakly.
"I know. I know you're scared," Charlotte affirmed. "I would be too, Amelia. Being scared means you love him. It means you don't want to lose him. But hiding away in the dark all alone being scared isn't going to fix this. Go talk with him. Go."
Amelia hung up the phone and dried her eyes. She sniffled and attempted to center herself before re-entering the house. When she went inside, Owen was in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes from the dinner she and Richard shared. He looked up as she came through the door. Amelia looked up toward the ceiling and pursed her lips. Her arms were folded tightly in front of her as if she was hoping they'd provide the emotional armor she needed to face her husband with the truth.
"What did you take this afternoon?" Owen asked flatly as he fixed his gaze on her, expressionless.
Amelia shared, "I drank. I'm sorry, Owen."
"I don't know how this works, Amelia. Should I be rushing to check you into rehab, yelling at you in anger, or shaking my head in disappointment? What the hell do I do now?" Owen's tone remained emotionless.
"Support me," Amelia suggested.
He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders as she looked down, unable to face him eye to eye. He embraced her, pulling her into his chest and closing his eyes slowly in desperation. "I do support you, Mia, but I'm trying to sort out what that means."
Amelia admitted, "What a mess. I messed up. I am a mess. I don't know why I crossed the line. I needed to run away, block it all out. Everything kept getting worse and I needed to escape."
"A helluva lot of good that did you, huh?" he asked calmly.
"It's not that simple, Owen," Amelia offered.
Owen, still embracing her, nodded his head, "I know." He cleared his throat and guided her over to the couch. They sat down and threw the blanket over themselves as Owen put his arm around Amelia. "I need to tell you how I feel," Owen muttered. Amelia nodded and he continued calmly, "I'm…um…angry. Angry that you fumed at me this morning in the OR and in the hallway. I was embarrassed and humiliated by it. I'm heavy hearted, sad, and disappointed that you drank, but I'm still attempting to sort all that out. I'm hurt that you called Richard and the person you just spoke to instead of coming to me. I'm frustrated that you've created drama for yourself with Avery. And more than anything, Amelia, I'm confused. I want to help, but I'm not sure what that looks like."
Slowly responding, Amelia shared from her heart, "I regret my behavior and lack of self-control. I'm furious with myself that instead of holding it together and seeking help, I isolated myself and then drank an entire bottle of wine. The number of apologies I owe you is large." She continued to look at the water as she spoke, "You need to understand that you can't 'fix' me, Owen. You'll drive both of us crazy. Taking responsibility for me, trying to prevent me from drinking or popping pills will just make you resent me and really won't help me in the long run."
"Did you take anything this afternoon? Pills? Anything besides the wine?" he reluctantly inquired as if he hadn't heard her last statements.
"No," she confirmed.
"What can I do? I want to support you, Amelia, but I also need to tell you that I can't support what you did today – how you acted and also how you reacted as the chips fell," he clarified. "But I do love you. I am here for you. Let's navigate this together."
Amelia wiped a tear that was rolling down her cheek. "I really don't deserve you." Owen squeezed her tightly toward his chest, saying nothing.
How are you feeling about Charolette's cameo appearance?