Where You Belong

24

"Use a strobe light. Get her drunk. Hang her from the ceiling upside-down and hit her with a whiffle-ball bat for all I care." He knew he was being irrational. And the looks on his roommate's faced told him they completely agreed. But Derek just needed to get this particular patient out of his mornings. He was a morning person. He enjoyed getting up and greeting his days, especially now that each day began with waking up next to a particular dirty-blond intern. Derek liked looking forward to his day. He did not enjoy waking up with the knowledge that he would have to face this woman. It was ruining his mornings.

"Just make her seize," he repeated, somewhat calmer. "Because if she doesn't seize, I don't know where to operate, and if I don't know where to operate, I can't get this woman out of my life. And this woman is not how I like to start my mornings." He nodded and abruptly left them in the hall to their task for the day.

000

Derek was in a mood. He was irritable, short-tempered and not his usual friendly self. And he knew it. His annoying non-seizing epileptic patient was grating his nerves, but she wasn't the problem. He could handle patients far worse than her without blinking an eye when he needed. But the last few days had tried his patience.

Three days ago, he and Meredith had had off together. He had been called in for an emergency before noon, only to have his very injured accident victim code after nearly five hours on the table. Two days ago, he had lost a patient during a tumour resection. True, the procedure had been difficult, and the patient had known he had low odds going in, but Derek had been optimistic. The previous day he had been called to the pit four times. Three had been no where near surgical. The fourth had arrested before he could get the patient out of the exam room.

Meredith was working a thirty hour shift, and Derek hadn't seen her since the previous morning; hadn't even passed her in the hall. The hospital was busier than usual, keeping the doctors and nurses on their toes. And Richard had, apparently, doubled his efforts to disapprove of Derek's relationship. He could still feel his blood boil at the conversation that had taken place the previous day.

Derek swore to himself as he stepped off the elevator and stepped out onto the surgical floor. The man who hadn't been wearing a seatbelt and had driven his car head on into a truck wouldn't have had much of a chance in surgery, but Derek hadn't even gotten the opportunity to try and fix any of the damage.

He strode towards the nurses' station. "Can I have Miss Graver's chart, please?"

The kindly, older nurse offered him a gentle smile. "Of course, Doctor Shepherd." She turned and rifled through the organized stack before turning back to him. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Derek muttered, forcing himself to be polite, ever though all he wanted to do was yell and punch the desk. It wasn't anyone's fault that his patient had died, especially not the kind nurse before him. He flipped open the chart and expertly swept his eyes over the notes from the latest check. "Damn it," he swore again. She still hadn't seized.

"We'll be sure and page you when she does, Doctor Shepherd."

He shifted his eyes towards the nurse. They had been instructed to page him in the event of a seizure. He nodded. "I know. I just hoped..." He sighed heavily. "I just hoped I had missed the page or something. I just lost a patient...another patient. And I just needed some good news, something..." Something I can fix.

She smiled reassuringly and swept her hand through her greying hair before responding. "It's tough some times," she spoke softly, with the tone of someone who really did know what she was talking about. "I've been working in this field for over thirty years, and it always hurts to lose a patient. You just need to think of the ones you save, and remember that the bad times are part of the job. It will get better again."