𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐋𝐔𝐕 ? Jackson Avery

⸻ twenty.

season 7, episode 19 - it's a long way back

⋅──⊱༺  🩺🫀💋 ༻⊰──⋅

   SOME WEEKS HAD passed and Callie woke up. She was working hard to retrain her brain in small steps. Her daughter, Sofia, was still in the NICU and would be for some time. Bailey wouldn't allow Callie to see her until her incision fully healed and her infections were gone, but Mark and Arizona would show her pictures and keep her updated everyday.

Sage, who was on Owen's service yet again, was currently standing in Mrs. Gladys Pulscher's room, trying to convince her to stop smoking. Sage loved trauma, she really did, and she was strongly considering specializing in it. But some cases, or more specifically, some patients made her want to shoot herself.

"Mrs. Pulcher, you're gonna have to stop smoking," Owen told the old woman.

"Your infections are getting worse," Sage added, his hands on his hips. She was usually much more patient and kind with patients, but Mrs. Pulcher was an exception.

"Your infections are getting worse," Mrs. Pulcher snapped, pointing a finger at her, "Your infections, you mean. I didn't have them before you three idiots operated. And you didn't even do that right."

"Again, I am sorry," Owen sighed and Sage could tell he was trying to repress the urge to roll his eyes, "but your lung cancer had spread to the point that we couldn't—"

"Please. Useless," Mrs. Pulcher cut him off, waving her hand dismissively, "I can afford any hospital in the world, and I come to this third-rate crap factory. When am I getting outta here? I've been here for three weeks. This is not Guantánamo."

"Discharge her, please," Sage begged Owen, at her wits end, "I will pay you everything in my savings account, I will sign my firstborn over to you, just discharge her."

Owen ignored her and continued speaking to Mrs. Pulcher, "There is not much more that we can do unless you are willing to help yourself. Now the smoking—"

"Oh, if I wanted a lecture on smoking, I'd dig up my dead husband," Mrs. Pulcher cut her off again, rolling her eyes, "Now get me outta here before I sue your balls off."

"Well, we'll run some tests, and if your white blood cell count is up to an acceptable level..."

"How high does it have to be?" Mrs. Pulcher asked, trying to negotiate, "Give me a number."

"Well, it's at a .8 now, and I'd like it to be above a 2.1," Owen said, and Sage prepared herself for Mrs. Pulcher to start bitching again.

"One," Mrs. Pulcher tried to bargain.

"This is not a negotiation."

"Everything is," Mrs. Pulcher said, "1.5. 1.5 and you let me out of this hellhole." Sage rolled her eyes, and looked at Owen, trying to telepathically tell him to just get rid of her.