Chapter 7: July 18, 2000, 10AM, Admit Desk (Doug Ross's Point of View):
I see Carter sitting outside the hospital on a bench, taking another one of his cigarette breaks. He is always taking a cigarette break. When I started working here again and saw him smoke, I was quite stunned. Don't get me wrong; anyone can smoke if they choose to. I used to smoke when I was younger, but I never thought Carter would make that choice. It seems like he is out there more often than in the hospital. I just hope that cancer doesn't run in his family, or..well, you get the idea. I figure now is as good of a time as any to apologize. I walk out to the bench and sit down next to him.
"Please," Carter says, "I don't need another lecture from you about smoking, and you can tell Mark to knock it off too, and everyone else telling me I'm too thin, or too depressed, or, or that I am too suicidal. Even I didn't realize that one."
"But you realized the others?"
"Well," he pauses, "Yeah, I noticed."
Now I am a little concerned but I decide to brush it off. He has been through a lot recently, and he knows that we are worried about him, and he says he understands why.
Carter continues, "Next people are going to start to complain about my drinking."
"Should we be worried about your drinking?" I ask, "I am your friend and you can ask me for help if you need it-"
Carter waves away this thought, "This is what I mean," he takes a drag from his cigarette, "I don't need people to be worried about anything. I know I haven't been myself recently, and I am trying to work on that, honestly. People are just over reacting, and you all need to understand that I simply need some time." He flicks away the butt of the cigarette; he had smoked it to the filter. Carter starts walking into the hospital and I follow him. He is limping and I can tell that he is in a lot of pain.
"Is your back bothering you, Carter?" I ask.
"No, I'm fine," and he keeps walking.
I never got the chance to apologize. Well, that's not true. I could have started out by apologizing. I had a hundred chances. At the admit desk, while Carter is talking to Randi, I interrupt.
I say, "Hey Carter, I really need to talk to you," We are walking down the hallway now. He seems rushed.
"Um, yeah. Can I meet you in the lounge in a couple minutes?" he asks as he stops in the middle of the hall.
"Yeah, that works," but I am not even sure if Carter hears me, since he ducked into the bathroom quite quickly. I look at my watch. Shit, I have a meeting in five minutes. What I need to say, I can tell him in the bathroom. So I walk in and quickly say, "Carter I just wanted to apologize for what happened the other day-" I had been looking at the floor as I said that, but when I look up, I see Carter standing by the sinks with a syringe going into his wrist.
I see Carter sitting outside the hospital on a bench, taking another one of his cigarette breaks. He is always taking a cigarette break. When I started working here again and saw him smoke, I was quite stunned. Don't get me wrong; anyone can smoke if they choose to. I used to smoke when I was younger, but I never thought Carter would make that choice. It seems like he is out there more often than in the hospital. I just hope that cancer doesn't run in his family, or..well, you get the idea. I figure now is as good of a time as any to apologize. I walk out to the bench and sit down next to him.
"Please," Carter says, "I don't need another lecture from you about smoking, and you can tell Mark to knock it off too, and everyone else telling me I'm too thin, or too depressed, or, or that I am too suicidal. Even I didn't realize that one."
"But you realized the others?"
"Well," he pauses, "Yeah, I noticed."
Now I am a little concerned but I decide to brush it off. He has been through a lot recently, and he knows that we are worried about him, and he says he understands why.
Carter continues, "Next people are going to start to complain about my drinking."
"Should we be worried about your drinking?" I ask, "I am your friend and you can ask me for help if you need it-"
Carter waves away this thought, "This is what I mean," he takes a drag from his cigarette, "I don't need people to be worried about anything. I know I haven't been myself recently, and I am trying to work on that, honestly. People are just over reacting, and you all need to understand that I simply need some time." He flicks away the butt of the cigarette; he had smoked it to the filter. Carter starts walking into the hospital and I follow him. He is limping and I can tell that he is in a lot of pain.
"Is your back bothering you, Carter?" I ask.
"No, I'm fine," and he keeps walking.
I never got the chance to apologize. Well, that's not true. I could have started out by apologizing. I had a hundred chances. At the admit desk, while Carter is talking to Randi, I interrupt.
I say, "Hey Carter, I really need to talk to you," We are walking down the hallway now. He seems rushed.
"Um, yeah. Can I meet you in the lounge in a couple minutes?" he asks as he stops in the middle of the hall.
"Yeah, that works," but I am not even sure if Carter hears me, since he ducked into the bathroom quite quickly. I look at my watch. Shit, I have a meeting in five minutes. What I need to say, I can tell him in the bathroom. So I walk in and quickly say, "Carter I just wanted to apologize for what happened the other day-" I had been looking at the floor as I said that, but when I look up, I see Carter standing by the sinks with a syringe going into his wrist.