Stitches of Survival

The End is the Beginning is the End

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The End is the Beginning is the End

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My eyes were trained on the fish tank that rested against one wall of the office, watching as the fish swam around the enclosed space, oblivious to the fact that there was more to the world than that tank. They were all so oblivious to their surroundings, clueless to the chaos that consumed the world. They never had to feel the pain and heartache that humans did on a daily basis, struggling to reach the next day.

"Bethany? Are you listening to me?" My gaze snapped away from the fish tank and back to the older woman sitting in front of me. Her hawklike eyes trained on me as I sat on the small couch across from her chair.

"Sorry," I apologized as I shook my head, signaling that I hadn't been listening to her. It was hard to bring myself to listen when I had no real desire to be in her office in the first place. I would have much rather still been at home, getting another hour of sleep before I needed to wake up and head to the hospital for work. Instead, Mark had insisted that I make an appointment with her so I could talk to someone that wasn't him or Derek. He wanted me to get help, and I respected that, but I hated the idea of therapy. Why would I want to pour out my thoughts and personal struggles to a stranger?

"I was saying that I took a look through your medical files." She repeated herself for me, glancing down at the papers in her lap, no doubt copies from my file. "You've certainly been through a lot. You were in a bad car accident during your intern year here, one that you shouldn't have been able to walk away from let along be able to operate again. Then you were one of the doctors shot in the shooting a few years back; it says here that you coded multiple times, both in surgery and following it. Then you were hospitalized a little less than a year ago after a severe panic attack when your fiancé was in a plane crash."

"My life's never been boring." I chuckled, trying to lighten the serious mood in the room.

"That's for sure," she nodded in agreement, a small smile flickering across her lips. "Why don't you tell me a little more about why you're here though? Why now? What's changed?"

"My fiancé found out that I had a panic attack in the middle of surgery a few weeks ago. And that led to me telling him that it hadn't been the first time, that I'd been having them repeatedly throughout the past several months." I explained to her. "He thought that it'd be best for me to try talking to someone about everything, a professional. I spoke to one of my colleagues about it and he suggested that I make an appointment with you. So, here I am."

*~*~*~*

"Morning," I greeted Alex and Cristina as I joined them in the lounge later that morning, making a beeline for the coffee maker.

"Hey," Cristina nodded before turning her attention to our friend. "I heard your girlfriend did a little panty dance in the kitchen this morning."

"She's not my girlfriend." Alex rolled his eyes as I joined them at the table with a warm cup of coffee in my hands.

"Yeah, remember? He's grown up now." I reminded the curly haired woman as I took a seat next to her. "He's a homeowner, smart and mature. He doesn't sleep with interns anymore, just slutty nurses and drunk bridesmaids."

"Look, I know it's weird." Alex shook his head, cutting Cristina and I's laughter short. "She's hot and she's always around, but I don't even think of her like that. It'd be like one of you and I sleeping together."

"Ew. I'm trying to eat my breakfast." Cristina frowned at just the mention of the idea.

"Did you hear your husband accidentally copped a feel?" Alex ignored her.