offsetting minors | s. crosby

Must be my lucky day

It's four o'clock by the time I get the okay to check Justin out of the hospital. Dr. Roberts had come into the residents' break room to let me know that he'd taken the biopsy and that pathology would have the results from the sample by tomorrow morning. 

If my hunch was right and his tumor was actually a brainstem glioma, it wouldn't exactly be good news. Removing them is next to impossible and unless we could take out the mass completely, his prognosis would be pretty brutal- twelve to fifteen months, at best. 

But as I head to his room, I try to remind myself that we have some of the best neurosurgeons in the world, and that his diagnosis doesn't have to be a death sentence. With luck and a skilled surgeon, Justin could make a full recovery. And when I look at how excited he is, bustling around his room with a lopsided gait and a huge smile on his face, I'm praying that I can be optimistic about this. One of the first things a doctor will tell you is that you should never get too emotionally attached to a patient, and certainly not one in as critical a condition as Justin. But by now, that rule has gone completely out of the window.  I've known the boy for just over 24 hours now, and he's already wormed his way into my heart.

When Justin sees me, he's pulling his Crosby jersey over his head. He gives me an incredulous look when he takes in my plain outfit. "Dr. Elliot, you can't go to the game dressed like that!"

I look down at myself and frown. I'd changed out of my scrubs, obviously, leaving me in the jeans and black long sleeved t-shirt I'd worn this morning into the hospital. "Why? What's wrong with this?"

"You can't go to a Pens game without any Pens clothes, silly!" He's quiet for a minute before he reaches over onto his bedside table and produces a black and gold Penguins ball cap. "Here. You can wear this."

It's not like I can argue with the kid. He looks dead serious, so I take the hat from him and place it on my head. It's a snug fit but it goes on and I hope that it doesn't make me look too dorky. 

"You all set, kid? We're gonna have to take you in the wheelchair, okay? But I have it under good authority that if we get there early, we can go down to the locker rooms to meet the team before they start the game."

He agrees to my terms, but doesn't look too thrilled about being confined to the wheelchair for tonight. Grabbing a small stuffed penguin from his bed, he takes his seat in the chair so I can wheel him out. 

As we start to walk towards the parking lot, I realize that I have no idea how we're getting to the arena. Normally, I'd have taken the bus, but using public transportation while Justin has to be in his wheelchair doesn't seem like the easiest idea. Immediately, I feel like an idiot for not thinking this through.

Luckily, Justin pipes up. "Dr. Elliot, Sidney told me that the driver would be waiting outside the main entrance for us. We're going the wrong way."

I should have known, really. Of course Pittsburgh's closest thing to a God would have a car waiting to drive us to the arena, though I wish he would have been a bit more forthcoming with the details. Though, in hindsight, neither of us had been doing much talking last night- we'd had more important things to tend to. 

The driver finds us exactly where Justin had said he'd be, at the drop-off port in front of the hospital. He greets us with a kind smile.

"Hi, Ms. Greyson. I'm Anthony. Mr. Crosby sent me to take you both to the arena and I have instructions to take you into the locker room before the game starts." He winks at Justin, buckles him into the backseat, and we're off to the arena. "You must be very special for that kind of VIP treatment, mister."

"He's my best friend! I can't wait to see him score a goal tonight." 

"I'm sure he'll be on his very best, just for you. And because this is the Flyers game, of course."