Story: On My Honor
Chapter 9
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Previously: Zoey's doctor's visit went well; a colleague and friend of Abbey's asked for her professional advice regarding a ten-year-old girl with pneumonia; Abbey feared the little girl might have a new disease called GRID (the earlier name for AIDS).
Summary: Abbey faces a dilemma when she suspects Megan's illness might be linked back to the hospital; Abbey turns to Jed for reassurance
Dr. Mark Allen handed Abbey the clipboard. She immediately flipped the papers, reading over the chart just as quickly as he had moments earlier. Speechlessly, she handed it back. They exchanged a glance and Mark collapsed into the leather swivel chair in his office.
The first time he felt defeated was when he was a wide-eyed intern who got a sharp dose of reality when he lost his first patient. More than fifteen years had passed since then, but the feelings of failure resurfaced almost instantly with this one. His instincts had been right. The tests proved that ten-year-old Megan Carmichael was sick and the scope of her illness was a medical mystery.
Clearly empathizing with her grief-stricken colleague, Abbey gathered her thoughts, then sat down directly across from him. "What now?"
"First, I have to tell her mother." He looked up from the mountain of paperwork in front of him and called out to his nurse. "Marian?"
Marian poked her head through the open door. "Yes, Sir?"
"Do me a favor and get Heather to gather up all of Megan Carmichael's records. Someone from the CDC is going to be here in a few hours." He stood to address Abbey. "Do you want to join me?"
"I will in a minute," she replied, watching him closely as he left the office and turned the corner. "Marian?"
"Yes, Dr. Bartlet?"
"May I also get a copy of Megan's records?"
"Sure." Marian paused for a moment, only continuing when she sensed Abbey was about to leave. "She has it, doesn't she?" Abbey didn't answer. "The whole hospital's going to be talking about it by the end of the day. She has PCP?"
"It looks like it, yes."
"Is it GRID? Does she have the disease?"
"I don't know."
"So far, only men have caught it...gay men. That's what the news said. That's what the medical journals all say."
"We don't know for sure."
"Dr. Bartlet, you're widely respected here at this hospital. The nurses rave about how nice you are, not at all patronizing or dismissive."
"That's very kind."
"So I have to ask you." The nurse bit down on her bottom lip, hesitant and fearful of the doctor's response. "How do you think Megan got this?"
"I really don't know." Those were the hardest words in the world for Abbey. This was her field. After nine years of training, she was supposed to know.
"Dr. Allen is wonderful, but he's...he's her pediatrician and..."
"All right, stop." She interrupted to avoid hearing what she knew Marian was about to say. "I don't think you're on the right track."
"Yes, you do. That's why you wanted the medical records. Megan has this thing that's only been seen in gay men and you can't tell me it hasn't occurred to you that since her pediatrician is gay..."
"Her condition has nothing to do with Dr. Allen."
"Then why did you want the records?"
"To see if I missed anything."
"You did. You're missing your obligation to the patients. You and I are probably the only ones who know that Dr. Allen is gay. Don't you think one of us should tell the CDC when they investigate how that little girl got so sick? Don't you think it's our responsibility to ensure his other patients are informed?"
Abbey raised her hand to interject as she closed the empty space between them. "Listen to me. We have no idea how this thing is transmitted. You're jumping to conclusions here and that's a very dangerous thing to do."
"We don't know, you're right. So why shouldn't we expose all the information and hope that it will help the experts discover the link? If we keep quiet and another child gets sick, could you live with yourself?"
At a loss for an appropriate reply, Abbey simply glared at the other woman. "Make sure you get me those records."
Marian took several steps behind her as Abbey turned her back and started to walk out. "Dr. Bartlet, you have three daughters. Would you let Dr. Allen treat your daughters? And if not, then why would you let him treat someone else's?"
In the next few seconds, Abbey's mind flashed the faces her own little girls. She threw her head back and, without a response, she walked away.
It was a long stroll to the pediatric wing. Longer than usual, it seemed. Perhaps it was because Marian's words echoed in her brain, shortening her stride and slowing her pace.
Of course she was wrong, Abbey kept telling herself. But her thoughts were manipulated by the battle between the educated doctor who suspected Megan's illness wasn't connected to her pediatrician and the mother who believed even a smidgen of doubt was reason enough to protect children from a baffling illness that threatened to kill them.
She stood in the corner when she entered Megan's room. Quiet and still, she watched Mark deliver the news. Throughout the years, she had witnessed similar scenes dozens of times and she was always amazed at the way he managed to keep a firm grip on his emotions, even in the most troubling circumstances. It wasn't that he was indifferent. It was that he was a professional.
But not this time. This time, Mark's voice caught in his throat and Abbey realized she had seen a tiny chip in his steel armor. And when Megan's mother shed her first tear, Mark shed his.
The two doctors offered options to lessen Megan's pain and treat the pneumonia. There was no test for GRID. There was no way to know if Megan would get better or if she was fighting for her life. The discovery of the virus was in its earliest stages and healthcare professionals found themselves grappling with the powerlessness that came from watching their patients deteriorate without any answers or medical recourse.
The more helpless Abbey felt, the more consideration she gave to Marian's line of reasoning. It wasn't a gay disease, her training told her that. But she was torn by her medical ethics, the guidelines that suggested information even in its rawest form could unlock the keys to the most complex of ailments.
"They're probably going to ask you, you know," she told Mark after they left Megan's room.
"Ask me what?"
"The CDC. They may want to know if Megan's had contact with gay men."
Mark stopped dead in his tracks, stopping Abbey as well. "She's a little girl."
"I'm just saying..."
"...that she may have caught it from me?"
"No. I'm saying that they're going to ask the questions and you need to decide how you're going to handle it."
"How should I handle it?"
"There's a code here, Mark. I think you should follow it. You need to be honest."
"If I tell them I'm gay, with what's going on right now, Abbey, I'm out of a job!"
"That isn't true."
"Who's going to want to bring their kids to a gay pediatrician when news gets out that one of my patients might have this thing? I'm not only out of a job, I'm out of a career."
"She could be DYING, Mark! How can you even consider not telling them everything?"
"Because I didn't make her sick! I'm not sick, Abbey. I'm perfectly fine so if I'm not sick, how would I have given it to Megan?" He took a breath to calm himself and after he quickly scanned the faces of the curious spectators, he led Abbey into an empty room.
"If you don't tell them and they find out somehow..."
"How would they find out?" he asked, closing the door to give them privacy. "Are you going to tell them? You know, I never pegged you as one of those people."
"Excuse me?"
"When I told you about me and Kevin four years ago, I did it because I never thought you'd judge me."
"I'm not judging you, Mark. I would NEVER judge you. I don't think there's anything wrong with you or with your relationship. I do think that we have a sick little girl on our hands and I'm willing to do whatever I can to help her."
"I just don't see how revealing this is going to help her!"
Abbey paced around the room, her frustration apparent in the way she rubbed her forehead. Hard, painful strokes with her fingertips left pink and red marks across her skin. "What we know is that the disease is spreading through the gay community. There's talk that it may have spread beyond the gay community and we may have proof of that right here. If Megan has GRID..."
"Everyone's so determined to label it. Gay cancer, that's what they call it on the streets. Do you have any idea how it feels to have people think that I have the plague just because I'm gay?"
"If we hold back any information whatsoever, we could be dealing with dire consequences in the long run. Not to mention you will probably lose your job anyway because keeping this quiet will lead to a public relations disaster for the hospital."
"So it's better that I come forward now?"
"I think so, yes."
"And what are you going to tell me when my reputation is TORCHED because of the ignorance that's running rampant out there? When I have to deal with the same bigotry I dealt with in my teens?"
Abbey's heart broke for him, for the way he always had to defend himself against the prejudice he had faced over and over again. She reached across to touch his arm. "Mark."
He pulled away. "That's why I left home. Did you know that? I went to college and med school 2,500 miles away from my former friends, from my family, so I could escape that kind of hatred and I swore that I would only tell the people I trusted. I'm gay, Abbey. I'm not sick and I'm not going around making people sick."
"I hate what you've had to go through. You know that."
"You once told me it was no one's business what happens in a couple's bedroom. You told me no one has the right to dictate love or to define it."
"It isn't anyone's business and no one should define love. That isn't what this is about."
"That's what this will BE about. You and Marian are the only ones in this entire building who know. There's a reason for that."
"You know I love you. I will always stand by you, but they will ask and I'm sorry, I can't condone lying to the CDC, not while I'm treating the ten-year-old girl they're investigating."
"So you are going to tell them?"
"I gave you my word a long time ago," she answered. "I said I would never tell anyone. I meant it. So, now, I'm hoping you'll tell them before they ever talk to me."
Upset and confused, Abbey left without another word. She stripped her jacket and changed out of her hospital clothes then raced to the one person who would listen to her while she bared her soul and still love her after she did.
She scoffed when she walked into Jed's office. Piles of papers were randomly spread across his desk, most blocking the crowd of framed photographs that lined the mahogany wood. She fell into the lap of his straight-back chair and simply shook her head with a sarcastic laugh as she began to straighten up.
Only a few minutes later, she heard her husband's familiar voice as he rounded the corner and headed towards his office. "I don't believe in extra credit," he said to his companion.
"But I just don't know how else to bring up the grade from the last exam," a female student replied. "Please Dr. Bartlet? Just consider it?"
"See, Shannon, the reason I don't believe in extra credit is because it gives you a pass on the information I really want you to learn. How about instead of extra credit, you see me after class on Thursday night? You and I will go over the last exam and I'll help you prepare for the next one."
"I think I'd be better at extra credit."
"Sorry," Jed replied lightheartedly. "It's the best I can do. Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it," she reluctantly agreed.
His focus still in the hall, Jed opened his door. "You're a bright young woman. Don't sell yourself short." He turned to his office, startled by Abbey's serious expression as she straightened her posture behind his desk. "Abbey."
"'I'll take it, Dr. Bartlet, but just so you know, I'm much better at extra credit.' 'Nonsense! You're a bright young woman, Shannon,'" she playfully mimicked. "Do they pay you for the compliments or are those free?"
"Jealousy's not your thing, Sweet Knees."
"When we're talking young, perky coeds, it is. One-on-one tutoring? You do that a lot?"
"First, none of those 'young, perky coeds' hold a candle to you. Second, did you come all the way down here just to give me a hard time?"
She shook her head with a warm smile. "No."
"Good." He took her hand, helping her to her feet and greeting her with a kiss. "Why did you come down here?"
"Just because."
"Spill it."
"What?"
"You just got off a 12-hour shift, Abbey. Why are you here instead of home?" Abbey ignored his stare, leaning against his desk with her head hanging low. He cupped her chin, raising her face to make eye contact. "What happened with Megan?"
"We have to pick up Ellie's birthday cake."
"Abbey?"
"Speaking of Ellie, do you think this star show is really a good idea? She's awfully shy. I'm afraid she might get cold feet."
"Abbey?" She began to turn away, but he grabbed her arm and spun her back around. "What happened?"
"Doctors don't know everything. That's something most people forget. They think of doctors as God, perfect creatures sent from Heaven to cure disease. Megan had an appendectomy a few years ago. Her surgeon goofed and she needed a blood transfusion. She almost died. I'm sure she knew at that moment that we're not perfect. That we do make mistakes."
"Who made a mistake?"
"I'm just curious, would you let Elizabeth, Ellie, or Zoey be treated by a gay male doctor? Because, to be perfectly honest, right now, with this mysterious disease looming around, I don't know how comfortable I would be with it. I mean, myself, fine, but not my girls. I'm supposed to protect my girls at all cost."
"Megan has it," Jed surmised.
"I don't consider myself a judgmental person. I'm not saying I'm perfect. We know I'm not perfect, but I've never, ever had a problem with a person's life, with their relationships. As a teenager, I knew I was straight because I had my first crush on a boy. So, I do believe that a gay person knows, intuitively, when they have a crush on the person of the same sex. It isn't a choice and there's certainly nothing wrong with it."
"I know you're not judgmental. I know you're not a bigot. So why are we talking about this?"
"A person should never have to hide who they are. They should never have to pretend to be someone they're not just to appease others. But they do and it's because of ignorant bastards, people who've appointed themselves judge and jury of what's right and what isn't."
"Why won't you tell me what happened at the hospital?"
"Because I don't want to be one of those people!" she blurted out.
"You're not."
Silence lingered between them for the next several minutes. Jed was glued to his spot. He watched her carefully as she circled around herself and struggled for control of her labored breathing.
"In the next few days, I'm going to have to make a decision and you may not like me for it. So I just wanted reiterate it to you. I wanted to say, again, I'm not perfect. I may be making a mistake."
Jed opened his arms wide and wrapped them around her shrinking frame. "I don't know what this is all about, but I love you. No matter what. That's never going to change, regardless of whatever decisions you have to make."
"I don't usually get scared, Jed, but this time, not having the answers is terrifying to me and I need you to tell me it's going to be okay." At first, Abbey rested her chin on his shoulder. As her grip tightened, she tilted her head forward and buried her face against the soft fabric of his sweater.
"It's going to be okay."
"I don't believe you."
The somber tone of discussion was broken by Jed's chuckle. "Then why did you want me to say it?"
"Because I need to hear it from the one person I can always count on to make things better, who will always love me even if I'm not perfect."
He tenderly stroked her hair, his eyes closing as he inhaled the scent of the dark auburn tresses that tickled his nose. "Being perfect is overrated."
"Yeah?"
"Believe me, I know," he teased, provoking a laugh from Abbey. "I love you. I'm always going to love you."
"You know that for sure?"
"I know that for sure."
"Then if I decide to do what I'm thinking of doing, maybe you could remind me of it daily because some people are going to hate me and there's a good possibility that one of those people is going to be me."
Jed released his grip and pulled away long enough to press his lips to her forehead. Abbey looked up at him afterwards, locking her hands behind his neck as her eyes pierced into his. He leaned forward once again. Their foreheads collided, his hands roamed her shoulders, and he gave her his trademark smile, full of love and undying support.
TBC