Pulse

SIX

SIX

"Felix Lefebvre, 34, he was involved in a road traffic collision," Sophie Sinead, the paramedic in charge announced as she wheeled the patient into the emergency ward where Julien examined him.

"I'm fine, really. You should see my car, it's a mess. But besides a cool prosthesis for a leg, I'm perfectly fine and I don't need to be here," Felix protested, refusing to be looked over.

Julien has seen plenty of patients just like Felix—the ones who would rather curl up in bed in cold sweat and pain than see a doctor and risk staying even a night in the hospital.

In fact, Julien received an "I'd rather die in my own bed" once from a patient who was experiencing a severe case of food poisoning and refused treatment.

"I'm sure that everything would check out fine, Mr. Lefebvre. But it's protocol that we assess you and if all is good, you'd be home by this evening. Does that sound alright?" Julien said as they arrived in the trauma bay. To a nurse, he asked to order up an MRI and a CT scan.

Felix reluctantly nodded yes as he did his own mental assessment of his surroundings, including his attending physician and the name printed in cursive on his dark blue scrubs.

"You're...you're Jules," Felix said, stunned as he registered Julien's unique first name, a first name he hadn't seen or mentioned in the past 10 years but has thought on and off about since he left the battlefield in Sudan by virtue of being wounded in the line of duty.

Julien stopped scribbling notes on the patient's medical chart and looked up, wanting to recognize the man in front of him but couldn't quite place ever meeting this person before.

"Have we met?" he asked, curious, taking a seat beside Felix, glad to see that his patient did not seem to present with any initial signs of a brain contusion. He proceeded with a penlight test to check Felix's pupil reflex response.

"Your brother mentioned you all those years back. It's good to finally place a face to the name," Felix said, smiling.

Julien froze.

It all started to make sense when Julien noticed the now slightly faded tattoo just above Felix's left knee where he wore his prosthesis.

Sudan Deployment: October 2008 - February 2010

He realized that he had been holding his breath when Felix started saying, "Doc? Doc, you okay?"

Julien clicked the tip of the penlight and light ceased to shine from it. "You served with Jo," Julien said softly, not recognizing the sound of his voice as it cracked when he said the words.

"Sure did. 15 months with the dude. We were due to leave the next morning when our base camp was intruded. A missile landed smack dab on our tent and that's how I got this bad boy right here," Felix managed a smile despite how horrifying the experience must've been for him. "I haven't heard from Jo since. How's he doing?"

The question felt like an arrow straight through his chest and Julien found himself lost for words. As it were, he didn't have to say a word because a nurse interrupted them and mentioned that they were ready to wheel the patient upstairs for a CT scan.

Felix looked at the pain in Julien's eyes and he knew even without having to hear the words. "I'm sorry, Jules. For what it's worth, Jo spoke highly about you. He loved you man," the veteran soldier said, placing a hand on Julien's.

Julien watched silently as the nurses wheeled Felix away for the mandatory scans, feeling like he had been punched in the gut and left catching his breath. Tears sprung to his eyes and with blurry vision, his body shook as he wept.

-

Dr. Derek Choi-Levesque diligently filled up the pile of paperwork neatly stacked up on his desk, taking the occasional sip of coffee as he did so.

He heard a knock on the door and beckoned for the person to come in, pulling his work glasses off the bridge of his nose and placing it on his desk.

"Julien," he said, surprised to see the Head of Trauma in his room but more so worried seeing the young man troubled as he pulled up a chair and took a seat.

"Dr. Choi, just a few minutes of your time," Julien said, to which Derek nodded for him to proceed. "I've got a candidate for the veteran's fund and I think he's an eligible recipient," Julien said, indicating the fund that Montreal General Hospital had started to assist the Montreal veterans who were injured in the line of duty.

"Just thought I'd let you know. I'll get started on the paperwork for that," Julien said and just as he was done, he stood up to leave.

"Julien..." Derek said before realizing that he was unsure of what to say next. Conversations such as these were rare as it is and despite the occasional bumping into each other in the lift or the hospital hallway, both men didn't have much to say to one another.

"How are you...holding up?" he finally said, approaching the subject with caution.

"Dad, I can't do this. You can't just bring Jo up once a year on his death anniversary. You don't deserve that. Not when you didn't even care about him when he was alive! If you cared, you would've known," he lashed out and as the words left his lips, he knew that there was no way his dad could've known or predicted the outcome.

"Julien, I..I'm sorry," Derek managed.

Julien shook his head, his anger unfortunately overtaking his previously muted emotions.

"You weren't there when he needed you. You weren't there when I needed you. You brushed it under the rug as if the pain, the sadness, the guilt I had was an illness to diagnose. You wanna know what I felt?"

Derek remained silent as he watched his son breaking down right in front of him, pained to the core but not knowing what to do or what to say.

"Dad, every day, I wished that it was me in that car. Every day, I wished I was sitting right next to Jo so I could tell him one last time that he was going to be okay and that if he pulled the key out of the ignition, we'd get him the help he needed," Julien could see that his hands were shaking.

"They told me that things would get better but it never did. I just push those thoughts, those feelings away but they're never gone. It's been 10 years, Dad. Anybody else might have been over it by now. But not me. Not one day goes by that I don't think about Jo. They said that things will get easier but it never has. And at this point, I guess it never will."

-

Julien walked straight to the drawers as soon as he got home, not bothering to change out of his scrubs, not bothering to turn on the lights or pop his frozen dinner into the microwave.

He reached for the bottle lying in the drawer and took a long hard swig from it, the familiar liquid burning his throat slightly as it made its way down, numbing him from the pain that he couldn't possibly face tonight.