Sparks In Scrubs | Arizona Robbins X Reader

Strength in vulnerability

**Y/N's Perspective**

It's been a week since I woke up from surgery, and each day, I feel a little stronger. But as my body heals, the weakness in my arms becomes harder to ignore. Simple tasks have turned into frustrating challenges-my hand trembles when I try to eat with a fork or spoon, and I can barely squeeze anything with my left hand. The realization of how much I've lost hits me every time I struggle to lift even a cup of water.

Today, my mom and brother are visiting, and I'm trying my best to put on a brave face. They're sitting with me, filling the room with stories and laughter, trying to distract me from the reality of my situation. The door swings open, and Jackson Avery walks in with a group of residents trailing behind him, ready for rounds.

"Schmitt, please present the patient," Jackson says, his voice steady and professional.

Schmitt steps forward, clearing his throat as he glances down at his notes. "This is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, two weeks post-op from a splenectomy following a traumatic injury sustained in a vehicle explosion. No major complications have been reported, and the burn areas on her arms are healing nicely."

Jackson nods in approval, slipping on a pair of gloves. "Let's take a look, shall we?" He carefully begins peeling away some of the bandages on my arms, inspecting the healing skin beneath. "Yes, healing is good, no signs of infection."

My mom reaches over, gently placing her hand on my cheek. "That's very good, sweetheart," she says, her voice soft with relief. I can see the worry etched in her eyes, though she's trying to hide it for my sake.

I sit up a little, trying to lighten the mood. "Come on, Avery, when are we going to start with PT? I'm going to die of boredom if I have to be here for another week."

Jackson chuckles, and the residents around him smile. "We'll start you on PT very soon, Y/L/N," he reassures me, finishing up as he removes his gloves. He assigns a couple of residents to monitor me and check on the other burn areas on my arms.

Just as he's about to leave the room, Jackson turns back to the residents. "One more thing-Dr. Y/L/N has the tendency to try and get out of bed and start walking. If she does that, please stop her."

I roll my eyes playfully. "Hey, I can't help it, Avery. I just want to get out of this place."

My brother turns to me, shaking his head with a grin. "Y/N, for a doctor, you really don't listen to doctor's orders, do you?"

I can't help but laugh, even though the truth of his words stings a little. It's hard being on the other side of things-being the patient instead of the doctor. The helplessness, the frustration, and it all feel so foreign and suffocating.

After my mom and brother head to the cafeteria for lunch, the room feels quieter, almost too quiet. Jo, my assigned resident for the day, is carefully peeling back the bandages on my arms, assessing how well the burns are healing. Meanwhile, Schmitt sits nearby, diligently working on the post-op notes, his pen scratching against the paper as he documents everything.

Jo's gentle touch doesn't go unnoticed, but I can't help but wince slightly as she pulls away the last of the gauze. The pain is still there, dull and throbbing, a constant reminder of what happened. She glances up at me, her face a mix of concern and something else I can't quite place.

"Dr. Y/L/N, you need to recover from this quickly," Jo says, her voice soft but with an edge of determination.

I give her a look, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that a medical order or just your personal opinion?" I ask, trying to inject some humour into the moment, even though I'm not feeling particularly lighthearted.