Scars of the Past

Chapter Fifteen: Corey Fillmoore

  Trigger Warning: Death, Eating Problems      

      I've always done so good at keeping my composure at work. I comfort my patients when they are stressed, even if I'm worried about the surgery and they never even recognize it. I don't allow myself to freak out even when my coworkers make me want to do otherwise. I never let myself think of my own family medical issues at work even though my brothers in the same hospital I work at. I keep my cool. 

       Today was a different story. Today just felt like I was going to let everyone down. The whole world was placed on my back and I was responsible for carrying it. I had to make sure everyone came out okay both mentally and physically well as well as make sure I wasn't as much of a mental wreck. I got sterilized and walked with my team into the OR. I stared down at Anthony, a shiver rolling up my spine. I don't know how I'm going to do this. 

      "Are you okay?" Maia asked. 

     "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine," I replied. I took the sharpie and handed it to her. She began to draw on his stomach to mark our incision spot. 

    For the first time, my heart felt like it was going to explode from my chest. When I graduated from Med school, I immediately felt stressed of course. I was in charge of lives. I had to stop blood clots and so many other things. The things I had been studying for years were now thrown onto my table. It was no longer words on a page. It was visions that would forever be carved into my head but nothing as deep as this was carving. 

    I took a deep breath, trying to sturdy my hands. 

   "How are his stats?" I questioned, looking at the sharpie markings. 

  "Stable," Christopher replied. 

  "Scalpel," I said, holding my hand out. 

   "Scalpel," Alisson replied, handing me the blade. I tightly grasped the handle, panicking. No not panicking. I knew what I was doing. I've done this procedure before. Panicking because I knew him. This person wasn't just someone I would see once in my life, perform surgery on, then never see again. I was going to see him all the time or I could be seeing him one last time. 

     No. Corey stop. You know what your doing. You. Know. What. Your. Doing. Treat him like he's someone else. Heck! Give him a new name! Josh! Josh. This is Josh. Don't panic. He's just another patient. You give the surgery your all as usual and you don't panic. You. Don't. Panic. 

      I took my scalpel and began the procedure, trying to get my blood to stop boiling.  I got through the rest of the surgery, lying to myself. 'Josh' was doing fine. His stats seemed to be stabilizing and he was starting to regain all the liquid he had lost. It was going to be fine. 

    I took my quick break time after surgery to go visit my brother. My brother Payton has been spending the past few weeks in the hospital. His body has just been rejecting all the food he's taken in, dragging his nutrient levels through the dirt. One day, my brother Zeke who lives with Payton found him passed out, so he brought him here. He quickly got admitted and hooked up to TPN.

   It wasn't a rare thing for him to be in the hospital for things like this. Payton was born with Autism. He refused to eat most foods and that leads to problems. The only difficulty now is the fact he's refusing to eat everything. The foods he regularly loved, he won't even look at. Seeing him like this hurt so much. 

    We lost our parents when I was in high school. We were already dirt broke prior to their death, but things were worse when they were gone. We were left without a parent, trying to figure out our way through the world. I was the only one of us that had high grades so we decided I was going to try and get a scholarship, so I did. Of course, medical school is still an expensive school whether or not you have a scholarship but at least we'd have money. We would have an income of money that would get us somewhere. Take us off. We wouldn't be living a luxurious life but we would have something. We would have something we could rely on. 

    I walked into Payton's room and saw his pale tint as he laid on the bed. I hated this more than anything. This day was such a dumpster fire and looking at him just makes it feel like a wildfire. I walked over to the side of the bed, taking a seat. I grabbed his hand and gently held it. 

   Payton has always been such a gentle guy. Always wanted to give people attention and lift them up whenever they feel down. He's just a guy with such a big heart. I always just wanted to give it back to him. Make him know someone is here, even if he may not know it. I looked at the sac and back at his rhythms, analyzing them. 

    I closed my eyes for a second, just trying to let the world be happy again.  I wanted this miserable day to be over. I wanted to be driving Payton home from the hospital and hearing Anthony laugh. Seeing Sean not falling into pieces. I wanted to help him, but I couldn't. 

    I was quickly tugged out of my daydream. Flatline. 

   "No! No! No!" I shouted. I leaped up from the chair, tears beginning to fog my vision as I hit the nurse's button. I grabbed his wrist for a pulse and felt nothing. This wasn't a malfunction. My brother is flatlining.

    I dropped his wrist and ran to his side. I pressed my hands against his chest, heavily pressing down. Nurses quickly began flooding in the room when I heard Maia's voice.

   "Dr. Fillmoore! Something went wrong. Anthony's in cardiac arrest so they're performing CPR to try and get his pulse ba-" Her voice faded out. 

    No. No. No. No. This is NOT happening.