Grey's Anatomy Drabble
I'm bored. I got angry at the Season Finale of Grey's Anatomy. I'm a little passionate about giving every patient 200% of your effort, no matter who they are. (I'll ignore the inaccuracies about the treatment of metastatic melanoma) This little drabble is what popped out. Indulge me.
They didn’t know. They never could have guessed. He was supposed to be in the OR, under the watchful eyes of the Chief. They were waiting to attack him, waiting to undermine his most recent impulsive act, to subvert his honorable pledge with carefully constructed logic and heart-wrenching pleas, to stop him by physical force if necessary. They had rallied to try to save him from himself, never knowing that they’d been trying to save him all day.
That was the anguish in the cries of recognition. That was the frantic rush of surgical heroics. It wasn’t calm, clear decision making - it was self-doubt nipping at their heels. It was lingering questions about the strength of their earlier ministrations. When he had been John Doe, did he get the best each of them had to offer? They had arguments to plan, memories to save, souls to heal, careers to choose. Their response to the trauma was adequate, perhaps even thorough, but it wasn’t passionate. He was a good guy who did a brave thing, but there was no battle to save him. There was an aura of inevitability, if not hopelessness, about his chances.
Three numbers in her hand and suddenly the world shifted. Would he be on the precipice, hovering between now and forever, if they had poured their hearts into their work sooner? If they had attacked him with the vigor they had planned for their intervention? They will never know. And the parts of themselves that had started to heal, the dark and twisty places that were finally bathed in sunlight, will unravel again.