I gradually awake to more doctors running around the hospital. There is a group of them staring at me, I am guessing word spreads fast here, even late at night. I look at the clock. Almost 6 am.
Well I didn't die last night, I think. I pinch myself. Not dead. Yay? I don't know if I should celebrate. Those doctors are still staring at me like I am reincarnated. My arm hurts though. No time to celebrate. I push a button to get a nurse. One walks in, and pushes the sliding door closed.
"You need anything?" She asks.
"Okay, I have two things. Can you fix my IV, it kinda hurts. I think I moved it while I was sleeping. And two, do you know why I am being watched by a cloud of doctors outside?"
"Oh sweetie, those are surgical interns. They heard about you and wanted to see if you were real and not just a story," she says, smiling as she takes out my IV and replaces it with another one. "There is our problem," she notes, as she points at a bend in the old catheter. She hooks up the new IV to a new bag of saline. "Thanks," I say as she leaves the room.
Ugh. I am so bored. The only thing that is keeping my eyes from glazing over is my high probability of dying. I promised I wouldn't die though till Shepherd came back. I turn my head into my pillow and sigh.
Oh look! Time to die. I see him walk in the ICU with another guy in a white coat, both with perfect hair. Why. I think they both spend more time on their hair than surgery. Shepherd shoos the interns away. The other doctor has ashy brunette hair, and a chiseled face.
"Hey, I didn't die," I say as Shepherd walks in.
"Good job! I brought Doctor Sloan from the "plastics possy" to look at your burns and cuts that need stitching," He responds, jokingly. I smile. "By the way, your hunch was right. Steak knife in the head at a bar brawl," Shepherd adds. "I am going to go see how he is doing. I'll be back at 6:30 to see if I am good to fully close your wound. If it starts bleeding a lot more, get someone to page me." He walks out.
"So you got burned and cut up pretty badly," Dr. Sloan notes as he looks at the burns on my right arm. He unbuttons the shoulder of my gown, and peels off the haphazardly placed bandage from the ER.
The swollen burns run up my shoulder, reminding me of what my father tried to take away from me. My raw skin shows what he tried to strip me of. He is my father, but he is a coward who tried to kill me because he thought it would give him peace before he killed himself.
"I am going to rinse these off, and you should have only minor scarring. Got it for a cool reason anyways, but your skin should be clear because the burns are only second degree," Sloan says confidently. I exhale with relief. He slowly cleans the wounds on my lower arm, applies a thick layer of antibiotic ointment to the burns, and dresses them.
"You needed me Sloan?" An african american doctor with a perfect defined face asks. He slides in the door. What is with plastics and being perfectly symmetrical?
"Since you have perfected your vertical mattress stitch on every fruit species under the sun and almost everyone in the pit, I thought this would be a worthy adversary," he points to my left arm that is littered with deep cuts from glass. I think Dr. Grey pulled all of the pieces out in the trauma room, but never got to stitching them up, because of the impending doom of my brain. "This is Doctor Avery, and he will work on your left arm and a few cuts on your forehead, so you aren't stuck being sutured and bandaged forever."
After 15 minutes, I look less like a bludgeoned mess and more like a person. A lot of the blood is off of my left arm and face, and my arm looks somewhat normal besides the around 30 sutures I have in it now. My right arm is now covered in new gauze, and I feel more like a person than roadkill that doctors felt inclined to save because the roadkill did a cool thing.
"Dr. Avery will replace the gauze and make sure none of the wounds are infected. You are guzzling IV antibiotics though, so you should be just fine. We are just not in the clear yet," Dr. Sloan says confidently, as Dr. Avery moves every instrument to their assorted waste bin. "If the burns feel worse, don't hesitate to get a nurse to page me," he adds, as he and Avery leave my glass ICU bubble. I close my eyes, and rest for a bit.
I am suddenly awoken by sharp pain, and my head aches for some odd reason. It has hurt before, but not like this. The room brightens. I think. My pupils are dilating. I carefully reach up and touch my wound on my head carefully. It is raised. Damn. See, I know AP anatomy and physiology. My brain is pushing on my parasympathetic nerves, dilating my pupils. Which means there is blood pushing on my brain, pushing on my nerves, dilating my pupils, which is why the room is brighter. Which means I am in the same position I was in 12 hours ago. Well crap. I push the nurse button on my remote. Nothing happens. Now I start pressing it repeatedly and frantically. Crimson blood leaks through the gauze wrapped around my head. I notice nurses in the room next to the nurses station, meeting about something. I look at the nurse at the nurses station. She is asleep. Crap. Think. Think Ella. I look to my side. My vision tries to black out. I do not accept that. There is a big button near my bed. It reads "CODE BLUE". That is for if I flat line. I'm not flat lining, but I will be if my brain explodes and bleeds all over. I hit the button, and the room turns sideways and goes dark.
Murphy's law. What can go wrong, will go wrong. Damn.
Yay! I just got 200 reads! Also, I have a new cover ^.^
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Chasing Cars | A Grey's Anatomy Fanfiction
FanfictionElla Jones is far from being normal. Orphaned as a child by being thrown into a box and left at a fire station, to being pushed away by fosters, her tough shell shut everyone out. On the inside she longed to be ordinary person, and just as things we...
