Arizona sheepishly knocked on Dr. Wyatt's door before entering, embarrassed at the way she snapped at her therapist the last time she was there.
"Dr. Robbins," Wyatt looked surprised, "Have a seat."
"Did you not expect me?" Arizona questioned the older woman's look as she made her way across the room to the couch.
"No I didn't. I expected you to come back eventually, but not today," Dr. Wyatt replied.
"I wasn't planning on coming back," Arizona admitted.
"You're weren't."
"I wasn't."
The two women stared at each other. Wyatt studying Arizona and Arizona waiting for Wyatt to speak.
Finally the red-head spoke, breaking the silence, "What made you come here today?"
Arizona took a deep breath as she thought of how Callie pleaded her to continue with this three days ago, but she lied and said, "I don't know."
"Okay, well you're here now. So let's pick up where we last left off," Wyatt noticed Arizona rolling her eyes, "your PTSD."
Arizona scoffed.
"Last Monday, when I diagnosed you, you lashed out at me. You reacted irrationally and you're still acting irrationally. You have unresolved feelings, most of them anger, but not all of it."
Arizona furrowed her brows and glared at Dr. Wyatt, she didn't like what she was hearing and began to feel defensive.
"You're detached Dr. Robbins. You talk about your experiences as if you're talking about someone else. I'm not saying that you believe these things happened to someone else because I know you're aware that the plane crash and the amputation happened to you. But you talk about it like you're talking about a patient. You're detached. Like it or not, you are a victim of post-traumatic stress disorder. And you were right," Dr. Wyatt pointed Arizona's leg, "You're walking, you're functioning, and you're running a whole surgical department on your own. But you were not right about being fine."
Arizona didn't move, for minutes she sat there letting the words wash over her not saying a word. Finally she lifted the leg of her pants and looked down at the flesh colored plastic underneath it and whispered hoarsely, "I don't have a leg."
"You don't have a leg," Dr. Wyatt repeated.
"I don't have a leg," Arizona said again, this time a little louder.
Arizona woke up to the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor and the quiet bustling of the hospital. She knew these sounds well, she worked alongside these sounds every day, but this time was different because she wasn't one of the people contributing to the hospital sounds. Slowly Arizona opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. The off white walls were driving her crazy. The first few days there she didn't mind them, but now, after a month, Arizona felt despondent and empty much like the off white walls. Dr. Robbins took a deep breath and looked at the clock on the wall, 5:37. 'Thank god,' she thought to herself. Her wife got off at 6, would go pick up their daughter from day care, and come by to spend some time with her. The time between 6:10 and 7 had become the highlight of Arizona's days. Those fifty minutes were the only time she got a break from being the sick patient and actually felt like a wife and a mother, the only time she felt sane again. She wished Callie and Sofia could spend more than just 50 mere minutes but she understood, she understood Callie was tired after working a full shift, and she understood that babies get restless in a boring hospital room, so she never complained about how little she got to see her family.
Today in particular she felt groggy, her body feeling more lethargic than usual. Arizona rolled over to her left side, reaching for the pink plastic cup on the nightstand when a sharp pain pierced her left leg. It was a different kind of pain than the pain she felt in the previous weeks. Lying on her side felt different too—she swiped her right foot back and forth, all over the width of the bed, edge to edge, and it didn't hit anything. There was nothing there. Her leg was gone…
The blonde quickly sat up, letting out a small cry, her face wincing because of the immense pain it took to move her body that fast, and frantically flung the blankets off her legs. Correction- leg.
Dr. Wyatt let Arizona sit in silence, she wanted to give her patient time to take in her new realizations but when she noticed a look of nausea she spoke, "Are you okay Dr. Robbins?"
"No, I don't think I am," Arizona looked up at her therapist, "What happens now?"
"Now we talk."
"That's it?" Arizona seemed skeptical.
"That's it."
"Okay, um," Arizona stood up to leave but had to hesitate for a moment. The leg felt different on her.
"I guess we'll talk on Monday then," she continued.
"Okay," Wyatt agreed, "And Dr. Robbins?"
Arizona stop at the door and turned around.
"The woman outside, the brunette –"
"My wife," Arizona interposed.
"She waits for you every time?" Dr. Wyatt arched her eyebrows.
"Yes."
