#his current ICU doctor (at thankfully a different hospital this time) seems to be real good though

[prideandpen]

it kinda pisses me off a bit that each time i have a good day of writing and get loads done thinking I’m starting a surge of progress it’s followed by days where my life goes up in smoke.

[glorious-blackout]

Summary of Junior Doctor Life in the Midst of a Pandemic:

We now wear surgical masks pretty much constantly, even in our supposedly non-COVID Green Ward (which, seeing as people aren’t being tested as soon as they walk in the door, is doomed to get a positive patient regardless). My skin hasn’t been this bad since my teenage years, but I’ll take it if it reduces my chances of unknowingly passing the virus onto patients.

Myself and a colleague recently spent one of our breaks looking at photos from the current protests in America as well as posts of people declaring COVID-19 to be a ‘hoax’. As much as we had a good laugh out of it, for the sake of our sanity we have decided that America cannot possibly be a real place.

Our empty clinic areas and hospital chapel have been converted into staff sanctuaries, mostly for A+E and ICU staff members to sit in peace with some tea or coffee. Turns out the chapel has a piano, which is how I ended up playing random Muse songs in a silent hospital during one of my nights. It was a lovely, albeit surreal, moment of calm during a hectic shift, and it would have been even better if my piano skills weren’t so rusty 😅

Visitors are no longer allowed on the wards, which is sadly a necessary evil in a situation like this. One of the more difficult aspects of this is caring for palliative patients who, by rights, should have their family by their side in their final days. Thankfully the ‘No Visitors’ rule can be bent for Non-Covid patients if we believe they are imminently dying, and some relatives have been able to spend time with their loved ones so long as they’re in full PPE and there’s only one visitor in with them at a time. Overall however, it’s just a terrible time to die or experience the loss of someone you love, and I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for families of COVID patients where the option of seeing your loved ones is even less of a guarantee.

One of the more horrific instances of this was when a gentleman started vomiting blood and continued to deteriorate to the point where it became clear he was going to bleed to death. Amongst the hurried chatter that accompanies situations like this, someone asked which of his next of kin - his wife or his daughter - should be informed first so they could visit him while we offered supportive care in his final hours. Ultimately we had to choose the daughter on the logic that she was a nurse in the hospital, and therefore the only one who realistically had a chance of visiting her dying father.

It isn’t lost on me that we’re relatively protected in Surgery. We now have multiple COVID-19 patients, but their main complaint tends to be a surgical issue with COVID-19 being an incidental finding due to a slight fever. We’ve had a couple of scares in Green Ward with patients spiking temperatures or complaining of new coughs after we’ve all been interacting with them without PPE, but so far those have been false alarms. The extreme stress our ICU staff must be experiencing almost felt like a distant nightmare, until one of our nurses had to provide cover there for a day. Now, this nurse is highly experienced and excellent at her job and I’ve rarely - if ever - seen her riled up, but when she came back to our ward to collect her belongings she was incredibly shaken and tearful as a result of what she’d seen. I think some of us had failed to appreciate just how horrible the virus truly is until that moment, and that was just a taste of what ICU is like.

We had a lovely lady in our Red Ward who thoroughly broke my heart when I had to take her bloods. She’d spent the last year dealing with cancer and had come into hospital with a suspected wound infection, only to test positive for COVID-19 despite having no symptoms. The shock of having the virus on top of everything else had really shaken her, and the entire time I was with her she made a point of turning her face away and apologised constantly for being in hospital and - in her eyes - putting myself and my colleagues at risk (I assured her that we were there to help and that we’d much rather she was in hospital so she could get the treatment she needed, though I’m not sure how much of that sunk in). I was wearing PPE and she had a mask over her nose and mouth so I was probably as protected as I could be, but the fact that she considered herself a danger to me was still rather sobering. 

Much like the rest of the world, a lot of us still can’t believe that we’re right in the middle of the worst pandemic in over a century. We spend our breaks in the same doctor’s room where we used to sit and have a chat or whine over coffee and lunch, but all of that feels like years ago. If things were normal, we’d all have moved back to Medicine and I would now be three weeks into my Endocrine job, but now we’re left wondering if we’ll even still be moving to an entirely different hospital in August. It’s all very surreal and I don’t think it’ll ever not feel surreal, and the only way to really deal with it is to take each day as it comes and hope that the worst-case scenario we’re all preparing for never comes.

It’s not all doom and gloom! Never underestimate the determined optimism of NHS staff - the increasing gratitude from the public (often accompanied by free food) has given us a boost and we all seem to be looking out for each other more than we used to. One of our wards has an ever-growing collage of rainbow drawings done by the staff, including one by a senior nurse who decided his rainbow should be drawn in the colours of the Rangers Football Team. The road at the entrance of our hospital now sports the slogan ‘Thank You NHS’ so it’s the first thing you see when you come into work. We even got a huge quantity of Easter Eggs sent to us last week (which admittedly didn’t last very long 😉). The government have predictably failed us, but the kindness of ordinary people has done a world of good in terms of our morale, and I hope I’m able to remember that more clearly in the coming years than the horrible effects of this virus 🌈

[naughty-teddy-innit]

Rehabilitation: Chapter 4 An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction

Title:      Rehab: Chapter 4

Author: @naughty-teddy-innit

Rating:  PG- No smuts for a while, but intense content?

Click here for the Previous Chapter

CHAPTER 4

“You’re shitting me.” Her face was nothing short of incredulous as she stared me down over the messy, food strewn surface that was my kitchen counter. “How is that even possible??”

 I popped a slice of freshly washed strawberry into my mouth and tossed the rest of the juicy slices I’d already cut up into the glass salad bowl in front of me, a yummy complement to the spinach greens and pecans I’d already added to it.

 “I don’t know??” I took a sip of my Sauv and then replaced my goblet on the counter.  “I guess I just don’t Social Media and/or Pop Culture much. I grew up with Credence and Springsteen and Janis and the masters.  I just don’t pay much attention to the current pop stuff. Until I managed to bump into his manager, I had no idea who he even was.”

 “Leesie.” She paused herself mid-sentence and fortified her apparent upcoming rant with a long sip from her own wineglass, and then fixed me with a stare.  “He’s probably the most famous musician on the planet right now. He writes the most beautiful lyrics you can imagine, has a voice like melted butter….and did I mention he’s fucking gorgeous?!! And has the most delicious accent you can even fathom. And he’s supposed to be the sweetest guy EVER. How do you NOT tell me he’s lying in your hospital and that HE KNOWS WHO YOU ARE??”

 “Lynds.” I swallowed the laugh that threatened to bubble out and fixed a smile on my best friend. Who was currently aiming a dagger-laden death stare right back at me. “I love you. Very much. But you know I can’t talk about patients and medical stuff at work.  If I screw with confidentiality stuff, I could get FIRED. I like my job, remember??”

 “I’m not talking about his medical records! Everyone knows he was in this awful crash and that they have him locked away where the press and all that can’t get to him.  But like…. you’ve had conversations with him! I mean- he’s gonna be okay right?”

 “Happenstance, honestly.  I never went looking for him. And I wouldn’t say it was much of a conversation. Actually…”  I grabbed the wooden salad tossers and the dressing and began to toss the salad. “A few days ago, one of the healthcare aides got caught trying to sneak pictures of him on her iPhone while she was supposed to be passing out meals.  Security had to call the police because she flipped her shit when the nurse manager caught and confronted her.  Hauled her out yelling and screaming.  Thankfully Stuart figured it out before she managed to cause any real damage or freak him out, but it was awful.  THOSE kinds of people are the ones looking for him. I’m just doing my job. I never wanna be like that.”  I inwardly shuddered at the thought. So intrusive. I caught her eye and grinned. “I guess I can say he’s going to be okay. But I SWEAR. I really don’t know much else.”

 I looked up and she was swiping and searching for something on her phone, her lip caught between her teeth.  She suddenly grinned and slid her phone across the counter to me. I could see it was open to a video app, and I could see Ed’s name across the bottom.

 “Watch that.”

 I totally was not going to deny that I was curious.  I shook my head, laughing, and plopped myself down on the stool at the end of the peninsula-style counter.  “And what is it exactly I’m watching?”

“I’m starting you off easy.  This was the biggest song off his last album.  You’ll see.”  She bit the end off of one of the strawberries that hadn’t made it into the bowl and continued. “That pretty boy is ALL about the love songs.”

 I tapped the screen and grabbed the half empty bottle of wine, refilling my glass while the video loaded on the screen.  I flipped her phone around, allowing the images to fill the whole screen, and raised an eyebrow at the figure of the dancer whirling across the screen.  Whoever she was, she had a slammin’ body.

 His voice WAS really pretty, she definitely hadn’t made that up.  It wasn’t booming or theatrical, but softer. More melodic and sweet.  And he certainly pulled off the vest and crisp white shirt with the rolled-up sleeves thing REAL well; I was also more than curious about all the colourful tattoos that adorned his arms. He definitely was not an ugly dude that was for sure. But. I was feeling like I was supposed to be blown away. Why did I feel like my next opinion was going to be a REAL Unpopular One?

 “Well…” I took a deep breath and bit my lip at her eager expression. “I mean, he’s definitely not awful to look at. I’ll give you that.  And his voice is pretty! But it’s…I mean, it’s kinda just a typical pop gushy love song, right?  And the pretty pop star boy dancing with the pretty girl?? Come on…”  I stifled a laugh at the way her mouth dropped open in what was obviously affront and offense. My girl, she was nothing if not dramatic.

 “Annaliese. You are damaged, I swear. Where is your sense of romance??”  She was gesturing wildly with her freshly filled wine glass, the cold white wine an inch from sloshing all over our salad, and it took everything I had to not crack up completely.  I just shook my head.

 “It’s there.”  My voice was soft as I watched the video fade out on the screen. “Guess it just hasn’t come out in while.”

---------------

The next afternoon found me back on familiar ground, ready to get my volunteer on.  The schedule had me on the 4C IP unit, also known as the inpatient/recovery unit, and it was one of the sections of the hospital where I’d spent plenty of volunteer hours.  I was feeling particularly cheerful and rested considering the copious amounts of wine that I’d accidentally (or not so accidentally) consumed the night before, and I swiped my way through the unit’s security doors with a smile on my face.  I spent a good chunk of the afternoon with Callie, a nine-year-old girl recovering from a kidney transplant, knee-deep in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.  She’d read the book multiple times and by the time we finished the movie, she’d fully educated me on dragons, wands and Hogwarts.  She was a feisty, tiny little thing, and was as desperate to get home and get on with being a kid as any child I’d spent time with over the years, and I definitely finished up my time with her uplifted, and with a grin on my face.  I promised French fries and a milkshake on my next visit, as long as the doctor signed off on them, and slipped out as her mom was coming back from her lunch.

 I stepped up to the massive desk at the nurses’ station, intending to find out where they needed me next, when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

 “Really doesn’t make a damn bit of difference, mate. I really just want to sleep. Can I just get back to my room now, please?”

The soft accented voice caught my ear right away, I remembered it well. But unlike the last time….it was flat. Devoid of any warmth.  

 It was Ed.

 I had no idea where it came from, or what I was even thinking, but I found myself turning towards him and before I could help myself, my mouth was open and words were coming out.

 “Ed…Hey.” I tipped my head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay? Anything I can do?”

 He was carefully positioned in a wheelchair, his casted leg propped up and his injured hand, implanted pins and cast still intact, resting on his leg.  He had a nasal cannula still in place, but much of the swelling and bruising that had taken over his face had gone down.  I could see he was still moving very stiffly, carefully, as he slowly turned his head toward my voice. The orderly who’d parked him at the nurses’ station shot me a quick, polite smile and turned to head off to his next task.

 A brief, rather emotionless smile flickered across his face, and then he tipped his head back, resting it against the back of the chair.

 ‘S’kind of you, Annaliese.” He took a slow breath. “Tired of being poked and prodded and this test and that scan. Really jus’ want to get back to my room.”

 “Well, I can certainly get you that far.” I raised an eyebrow at the nurse behind the desk. She nodded at me, and gestured to the door at the end of the hall. “I’ll send Malik to help actually get him situated in a minute, he’s just finishing up with inventory in the med lockup.  Thank you, Leesie.”  She raised an eyebrow at Ed, and then looked back at me before looking back at the sheaf of paperwork in front of her. “Perhaps you can work your magic and get this stubborn young man to eat.”

 I just raised an eyebrow and nodded, deciding that for now my inside voice would probably be a better choice.  Why in the world wasn’t he eating?

 “Alright…Let’s get you back to your room.”  I tried another gentle smile as I released the brake on his chair, but he just nodded, staring off down the hall.  We found his room, and I got his chair situated by the bed while we waited for the nurse to come help him into it.  I debated with myself for all of 3 seconds before lightly dropping myself into the chair beside him.

 I took a deep breath and found myself cocking my head in an attempt to catch his eye. “Alright.  So. What’s this business about you not eating?”

 The only response I got was a huffed breath and tight-lipped expression. But I wasn’t giving up.  Apparently, I was no longer nervous about overstepping? I tucked a stray lock of hair back behind my ear where it belonged, and leaned forward, intent on getting him to talk to me.

 “I’m a lot of things, definitely not a doctor, but… Even I know food is kinda important when you’re trying to heal. Gotta fuel your body, right?”

 “Why.” His voice was low and his eyes were closed. “Does everyone in this bloody place seem to be obsessed with feeding me? I’m not fuckin’ hungry.”

“Well….” I was bit taken aback, to be honest. Admittedly, my impression of him was limited to the night he’d woken up and remembered me from the ICU, but he’d seemed like a genuinely kind, nice guy. I could only imagine he must be struggling with all of this, so I figured the snippiness was only fair, and let it slide. I was trying to think of the right thing to say when he beat me to the punch.

 “Nah. I’d like very much if everyone, EVERYONE, could please remove themselves from jumping up my arse, and just leave me alone. Stuart, my dad, Mum, Matt, everyone. Just….”  He was silently shaking his head, and his uninjured hand was clenched in a fist.  “It’s NOT going to be fine, and stuffing my bloody face isn’t….it doesn’t…Jesus.” His voice broke off and I took the opportunity to change tactics.

 “Okay then.” He looked up at me, the straightforward tone in my voice probably taking him by surprise. I pushed on. “Fuck the food. Let’s just…leave that. The rest of it though? Ed… I’d imagine these people, who clearly care about you and love you so much, just want you get strong so you can get better and get the hell out of here. Right? You must want to get back to your life and never see this place again?”

 The saddest smile I think I’ve ever seen ghosted across his face, and he looked down. “Mikey doesn’t get to go back, does he?”

 Oh god…his driver. I’d left his room when I’d last seen him, before that conversation took place.  I couldn’t imagine how that must have broken his heart. My heart ached at sadness in his eyes.

 “Oh Ed…” It came out as a whisper. He looked up at me, the pain in his eyes raw.  They were such a beautiful blue, but… there was no light in them. Like windows with the blinds pulled tightly shut.  “I am so, so sorry. I can’t even ima-“

 “No, no you can’t. No one can.”  He cut me off, his accented voice once again flat. “They can’t imagine because it wasn’t their fuckin’ fault. It was mine.  He can’t go back to his wife and his children and his grandchildren, because I’m a selfish prick. He’s dead because’a me. All there is, and I don’t really care about goin’ back anywhere but my bed. Please.”

 My heart shattered right then and there. How could he possibly think such an awful accident could be his fault? Nobody, NOBODY should have that on their conscience. I didn't stop to think; I lifted myself up from my chair and knelt by his, and laid a hand on his good one. I squeezed gently and waited for him to look up at me before I spoke, and then speak I did.

 “I was there, Ed. The night this all happened? I was working in the ER when everyone was brought in. I saw the paramedics bring in the truck driver. The guy that fell ASLEEP at the wheel, the one that hit you. I could hear him crying, wailing actually, that he didn't mean to. That he was exhausted and never meant to hurt anyone, that it was an accident. But regardless of all of that, he hit you. HE did this. Not you. You could not have known something like this would happen.” I took a breath and bit my lip, in an attempt to gather my thoughts, and pressed on. “Mikey shouldn't have died, Ed, but nothing you did made that happen. I promise you that.”

 I could see the sheen of tears in his eyes, and I so badly wanted to make it better. But I didn't know how.

 “... She's right, you know.”

 The soft, gentle voice that came from behind my right shoulder startled the hell out of me and I quite nearly fell backwards. I pulled myself together and awkwardly stood to see who was agreeing with me, and Imogen, Ed's tiny, lovely mother was standing just inside the door, nothing but love on her face as she looked her boy in the eyes. I opened my mouth, the beginnings of an apology for… What I wasn't sure, on the tip of my tongue. She shook her head and gently patted my shoulder before I could get anything out, and then lightly settled herself into my now empty chair. How long had she been standing there? How long had she been listening?

 “Do you know…? “  She paused and I suddenly realized, as she glanced in my direction, that she was addressing me. “When they came to talk to us, the police, about the accident, when they told us what happened. Do you know what my boy said when they told us about the man that fell asleep?”

I shook my head, watching as she smoothed an errant curl from his forehead and lightly brushed her fingertips along his stitched up hairline.

“He wasn't even angry. He can't have meant to, he said. Isn't it enough he has to live with what he did? What about his children?” She shook her head and Ed spoke up before she could say another word.

 “They said he has 4 children at home. He'd been driving those massive lorries for years, to put them through school. Who can bloody blame him for being tired?” His voice was quiet, not really directed at either of us. “He never meant to smash us up. He's gotta live with the guilt. And so do I.”

 “Ebs.” Ebs? Her voice was soft, but determined, and his eyes met hers in a heartbeat. The expression on his face…this boy loved his mama, that much was clear.  “What Annaliese said is exactly right. You mustn’t take this on your shoulders. There's no guilt for you to live with. Michael… He’s driven you for YEARS. He knew the job, he knew you were a night owl; you always have been. He loved you like you were one of his own, and looked out for you the same way. He wouldn't have blamed you for this. Not for one moment.”

 Ed was already shaking his head. “Nah. I made him drive, overnight, in the freezing rain. Gig wasn't even for three more days, and he'd been sick with a cold for a week. We weren't supposed to leave that night. I wanted to get there early so I could write with the lads. We were on the road because of me. Simple. My fault. I'm here, he's not. All there is.” His voice was sharp, dripping with…disgust? Anger? At himself, I didn’t know, but it was killing me. And I was not having it.

 “And if you'd left the next morning, maybe a motorcycle would have cut you off or a tire might have blown.” It was my turn to shake my head. “Ed, I'm calling it. That's crap.”

 Imogen raised an eyebrow in my direction, a slight smile dimpling her cheek, and nodded.

 A different voice cut through the room before anyone could say a word, and I turned to see Malik, a big hulking quarterback of a man, and one of the best nurses on the unit, popping his head in the door.

 “My man! I hear we need to get you back in your bed. You down?”

 “Please.” He truly sounded exhausted and I knew it was time to let him rest.

 “Leesie - they bringin’ up the supper trays if you wanna give em’ a hand?” He shot me a grin and moved to the side of the bed to get it adjusted for Ed's casts and oxygen and monitors.”Gonna get this boy up in his bed and check his oxygen and pressure and all that nonsense.”

 “Think I can handle that.” I shot a raised eyebrow at Ed. “Don't even tell me gourmet Hospital Spaghetti doesn't sound delicious right now.”

 He just shook his head and sighed. “Not In-N-Out, is it.”

 Imogen unfolded herself from the chair, a tired smile on her face. “Do you work here, too, Annaliese?”

 “Oh, no!” I quickly explained my volunteer hours versus working in the ER and ICU, and I let out a quiet laugh and smile, explaining that I hope they didn’t think I was intruding or...well. Stalking her son, for lack of better way of putting it.

 “No, no, not at all. It…. “   She paused a moment, walking with me to the door while Malik assisted Ed back into his bed, and lowered her voice a notch. “It’s very reassuring and a good feeling to know my son is surrounded by people who care about him in this place. You've been very kind; John and Stuart have both said the same thing. And you're honest with him. You pull no punches. I like that.”

 I could feel my cheeks pink up at her words, and she patted my arm as I smiled and huffed a small breath.

“Well thank you, Mrs. Sheeran. That means a lot. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go pass out some exquisitely prepared gourmet hospital food.” I rolled my eyes and she shook her head, and we both shared a laugh. “Hopefully Ed will actually eat some tonight.”

 I turned to leave, but stopped short when Ed's soft accent caught me.

 “Leesie? They call you that, right?” He was back in bed, his leg positioned back in traction, and his oxygen and monitors set around him, pillows piled up behind him.

 I couldn't help the smile that crossed my face. And there was that pink in my cheeks again....

 “Yeah. Yeah they do.” I crossed my arms, and smiled to myself.  “My mom used to hate it. She always said she picked Annaliese because it was different and pretty, and then everyone started calling me Leesie for short. To this day, she's about the only one, who knows me anyway, that calls me by my full name. Well. Unless I'm in trouble, I guess.”  I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my hair, silently chastising myself for being such a chatterbox.

 “... I think Annaliese is lovely.”

 His voice was soft, and was studiously looking down at his injured hand, still bandaged, implanted pins still in place.

 “Oh, well… Thank you. You're sweet. I don't mind it much myself.” I smiled at him, thinking that this was the sweet boy I’d met the other night. I caught a glimpse of my watch and straightened up. 

“Oh crap. I should go, dinner is starting.  Be excited, Ed -  Spaghetti is coming.” I may have rolled my eyes, hoping for a smile. 

 “...Will you be…. Here… again this week?”

 I stopped short again at his quiet voice. If he wanted me to be…

 I tipped my head to the side. “Wednesday for a few hours, I think…?” I said softly.

“Just wonderin’...”  He lay his head back against the pillows, grimacing as something somewhere caught him. I hated seeing him in pain. 

“Could always use a visitor…. If you're around, that is.”

 I shook my head and flashed him a small smile. “Eat your spaghetti, bud.” I turned to leave. “And we’ll see.”

LINK TO MASTERLIST

A/N: I am so SO sorry this took so long, but it feels so good to be back in the swing of things. I beg you please, all comments/feedback/suggestions/Reblogs/ANYTHING is welcome and appreciated! Drop me an Anon ask, a comment, anything, and it makes all the difference! Thank you and SO Much more to come!! Xoxoxoxoxoxo