I'm happy to report to the powers that be that the president has successfully made it through surgery. His prognosis is excellent and he's in good hands with the recovery team. A careful recovery, a few follow up visits and some PT and he should be without any long lasting effects.
Though I find it odd that Dr. Lee and Dr. Keller are immediately pulled away, I don't think too much about it. Their shifts have just started and the President's procedure was very short. I'm sure there are other patients in the hospital that are requiring their expertise.
I pull off my scrub cap and begin to wash up, rolling my neck to stretch out the muscles. Though that was nowhere near the longest or most complex surgery I've ever participated in, but my adrenaline was certainly pumping because of who the patient was. Not to mention I was at the end of my shift anyway. I'm exhausted.
I'm sure Josh will be working all night to deal with the fallout from someone shooting the President, but I'll call him when I leave and sleep at his place tonight. Something is still uneasy in my gut, I just know I'll feel better when I talk to him.
I push through the double doors, intending to stop by the nurses station to make sure they don't need an extra set of hands before I leave for the night.
As soon as I step into the hallway, I'm face to face with Toby Ziegler. The hospital is crawling with Secret Service and White House Staff, so it's not completely surprising. I know he's a speechwriter so Sam probably sent him over to have me read some medical terminology for a statement if Joan is busy. It takes me only a fleeting moment, however, to know that something is off. He's standing there, completely silent, waiting for me.
He wordlessly opens the door to a waiting room and ushers me inside. He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks at the floor for a moment before making eye contact with me.
"Donna. Josh was hit."
"Hit with what?"
"He was shot in the chest. He's in surgery right now."
"I don't understand. I don't understand, is - is it serious?"
"Yes, it's critical. The bullet collapsed his lung and damaged a major artery."
It's beginning to sink in. I hear a high pitched ringing in my ears and the thumping of my own pulse. I swear the world slows down. Joan appears from out of nowhere and her arms are immediately around me in the tightest embrace I've ever received, but it feels as though everything goes into slow motion. She holds on for dear life. I can hear her gentle cries but I am almost comatose. It's not quite computing.
This wasn't supposed to happen. He's supposed to come bursting through the door and kiss me in a way that borders on inappropriate for a public setting, call me a ridiculous pet name and take me home to eat Chinese and watch a black and white movie. He's supposed to twirl me around the tiny kitchen in his apartment and leave the door open when he's singing off key in the shower and make love to me before we fall asleep beside each other. Not this.
Joan finally lets go of me and I see her face, blotchy red and streaked with tears. I'm shaky and clearly in shock, so Toby gently guides me into a chair and Sam swoops in to comfort Joan, holding her close.
It must be several minutes before I find my voice. "I- I need more information." I croak out, looking up to Joan. She's the key to my access to Josh as she's technically the next of kin at this juncture.
"Dr. Bartlet is going to bring us an update as soon as she has one," Joan assures, resting her head against Sam.
I nod once in understanding. CJ comes over and sits down next to me, gently rubbing my back and giving me some idle reassurances. It's probably a nice gesture from someone that I've only met a handful of times. I'll think about it later.
Dr. Bartlet enters the waiting room and looks to Joan. "Is she here?"
Joan nods towards me as I struggle to follow what they're saying.
"Oh. Hello, Miss Moss." Dr. Bartlet stands near me and speaks gently. "I'm Abbey Bartlet. First of all, I'd like to thank you for the excellent care you provided my husband earlier."
"Yes, ma'am." I try to maintain a sense of composure if only for Josh's sake, but I'm fairly certain I'm failing.
"I understand that you're Josh Lyman's girlfriend. I'm sorry I didn't piece thah together earlier."
It's more of a statement than a question. So I meet her gaze and give her a small nod of confirmation.
"Well, he speaks very highly of you," Abbey assures. It surprises me a bit that Josh speaks of me at all in the White House, but I'll add that to the growing list of things that will sink in later. "I understand you'd like an update on his condition?"
"Yes, ma'am." They're apparently the only two words I can put together at this point.
"The bullet collapsed a lung and lacerated his pulmonary artery." Abbey stops to let that sink in, and I feel Joan reach over and take my hand. But something clicks inside of me. I revert back to my training in an effort to learn as much as possible about Josh's situation. I'm typically more comfortable when I have the most information possible.
"Can they try a Gortex graft?" I ask, hoping there's a good solution on the horizon.
"No," she tries to remain even keeled. "They're going to have to stay in and try to repair the artery primarily."
"Thank you, ma'am." I'm grateful for the information but the gravity of the situation is beginning to sink in. I feel like I'm going to be sick, so I close my eyes to stave it off.
While I'm sure there's a bevy of activity in the waiting room, I'm oblivious. I just think about Josh. I'm spending all of my energy willing him to live.
Someone sits down next to me, gently holding my hand. Eventually I look over and see an unfamiliar face.
"Hello, dear." She speaks softly. "My name is Delores."
"Mrs. Landingham." I state with a bit of uncertainty, though I'm not sure who else she could be. Josh speaks very highly of her.
"Yes, dear. You just let me know if you need anything, Hmm?"
I nod again and pull myself back to reality, though I'm still counting the moments until someone brings me another update.
"Josh has told me a lot about you," I begin. "He says you make the best spritz cookies he's ever eaten."
"Well, I'll have to bring him some to share with you." She pats my hand softly and the silence surrounds us once again.
We're given vague updates every hour, and White House staffers filter in and out through the night. We're approaching hour 8 when Sarah Lyman arrives.
Sam opens the door for her and a commotion begins in the quiet waiting room. She immediately cries Joan's name and bursts into tears.
I watch as she fusses over Joan, talking a mile a minute the whole time. Joan fights it for a few minutes, but then gives up. I find it peculiar, but I don't think too much about it. Joan tries to give Sarah the latest update but she practically waves her off. It seems like she doesn't want to know. I've seen it all before, though. I've had plenty of patients whose families prefer to bury their heads in the sand and hope it all goes away.
After only a few minutes I can't take it any longer. My nerves are frayed and Mrs. Landingham, bless her heart, has returned to the White House.
I stand and slip out the door before anyone notices. My feet begin to carry me exactly where I need to go before I even consciously realize where I'm headed.
I'm still in scrubs so I'm not met with any opposition as I make my way to the OR, letting myself in the side door and climbing the steps to the theater.
Though he may not be awake, just being near him again provides me with the sense of calm I've been craving all night. The steady hum of machines and the sharp digital sound of his still beating heart give me hope. And so, I'll sit and wait for him. And while I watch the best surgeons in the district repair his broken body, I realize exactly what this thing with Josh means to me.
Everything.