There was a tear in the artery wall with blood pooling in between layers, creating the clot. It seemed like the tear wasn't recent. The pseudoaneurysm was creating a huge bump of swelled tissue- enough to limit the blood flow to the brain and cause a stroke. And it was definitely the cause behind Lexa's.
The pooling was dangerous enough as it was, but the possibility of parts of the clot breaking off and into the bloodstream was even worse. If Dr. Niko couldn't successfully and safely remove the plaque, the risk of parts of the blood clot reaching the brain and causing subarachnoid hemorrhage was immense.
The only thing worse than an ischemic stroke was a hemorrhage stroke. Ruptured blood vessels in the brain were not an easy fix- not to mention the high likelihood of permanent brain damage.
This was not okay.
This was so not okay.
Clarke really hated how little she could do to help. She hated playing assistant. She hated being a resident with no power. She wanted to have control. She wanted to help- really help. She wanted to fix everything. She wanted to save her. She needed to save her.
Alas, all she could offer was an assist- carefully watching all of the doctor's movements and praying his hands wouldn't shake.
"Dr. Griffin, I need you to keep this open for me while I remove plaque."
...
And suddenly she was praying her hands wouldn't shake.
____________________________________________
The whole time she watched the doctor twisting around a blade inside of Lexa's neck, she could feel herself holding her breath. Every incision, every scrape, every pluck the doctor did, Clarke swore she recited the whole bible- and she wasn't even religious.
More than anything, she didn't want a single thing to go wrong. She didn't want Lexa to feel a single ounce of pain. Not now. Not ever.
She didn't deserve to.
...
Two hours never felt so long. Two hours never felt so dreadful. So stressful with nothing but the beeping monitor reminding Clarke this was, in fact, not a dream but a real-life nightmare.
Every centimeter the minute hand advanced across the clock on the wall, Clarke could feel herself breathing less and less. She could feel the air getting denser and denser, only getting progressively harder to inhale. Every beep of the monitor reverberated throughout her whole body, making her legs shake to the point where she couldn't trust them anymore. Every slushing noise coming from the doctor's incisions echoed through her head so much to the point she felt like she was drowning from the noise on its own.
But she wouldn't dare look away from the opened artery. Every time she glanced away for even a second, she swore something could've gone wrong in that time. She'd been staring at one spot for so long, everything in front of her was moving around and changing in size- her eyes playing tricks on her.
And to make it worse, the whole time the room was dead silent and Clarke's own breaths felt loud enough to disrupt anyone and everyone.
...
But as long as the two hours felt, they did eventually pass. After two very long hours, Clarke could finally feel herself relax, having seen the artery finally stitched back together. The only thing left was to stitch back the neck and-
Done.
It was actually over.
It was actually over and nothing went wrong.
YOU ARE READING
Hook(er) Up - A Clexa Fic
أدب الهواةLexa lived a stressful but put together life. At 29 years old she was already running one of the largest companies in the US, spending her days focused on work and never having time for anything else. No one could have guessed she fell for a hooker.
