Broken Thoughts
Part Five
By Kristen
kdarganin@hotmail.com

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters of "ER" this is for fun, not profit.

NOTE: Any mistakes are on purpose, this is a different style for me.

I'm reposting this since I'm done with the last part. This is for any catching up that is needed.

Journals of John Truman Carter
May 22 2000 10:00 p.m. 

Lashing out, it's a release of sorts. I always assumed it was an eruption of rage, anger. But really it's a release of something more negative; it's a wall. It's a barrier to feelings that we don't want others to notice. Anger is an emotion that is easier to express and in most cases its more accepted. Has anyone ever considered anger to be the fragile veil of something more? It's hiding fear. This emotion conceals ...concern...caring. Feelings that are not so easy to reveal to others. Especially when you're afraid of them. Like Dr. Benton is.

This..this revelation is interesting. He really must have bitten someone's head off here. They were quite distressed at his reaction to my transfer to the medical wing. I guess these people have never had the pleasure of enduring one Dr. Peter Benton's tirades. I have, many times. Looking back on it, I think Dr. Benton made me a great doctor. He instilled a survival instinct in me, prepared me for what I would have to endure to help others. He's afraid for me.

So, am I.

Peter Benton has learned effectively how to shut the world off and how not to give it a second thought. Slice and dice, greet em' and treat em.

No pain. No gain.

Unlike Dr. Benton I couldn't handle shutting the world down, ignoring all the turmoil inside me. See, Benton realized that he felt a sort of friendship with me and didn't now what to do with it. Those awkward conversations after the incident. Staring at me without knowing what to say. I kind of think it was a foreign concept for him. Now I know what it felt like. See, I've dealt with an emotion that is undesirable before many times. I've unsuccessfully dealt with....with guilt.

 I'm always trying to overachieve to make up for the all the mistakes in my life. I couldn't do anything for..for Bobby. I .. I didn't follow up on Chase, accepting all of his assurances. Why not? It was easier to accept them then to think that anything could be wrong. Much like how the staff reacted around me.

Concerned, but unwilling to believe that the ugliness of life could touch certain people.

Look at Dennis. I didn't know how to deal with my role in his death. I turned towards other factors, ---other people. I blamed Benton for riding him so hard, instead of blaming the person who should have supported him.

His friend. Me.

So, I lashed out in anger, looking towards others to take the blame. I think eventually I came to grips with my role in it, but then life went on.

How could life go on for me after it all happened? Where was the blame for it all? I was supposed to be happy that I survived it all, I was. But what about all the anger?

What about the guilt? See, being the expert that I am on the emotion I should have know how to have dispensed with it, right?

Except there was no veil to hide the feelings that I have always had a hard time dealing with. When it came to my brother I turned to medicine. When it came to the disapproval of my parents then it became the drive to be the most successful doctor that I could be.

When it came to Lucy's death, then there was no one to point the finger at,---- but me.

So I buried my guilt, my anger, behind stability, behind a wall of normal emotions. Like Peter Benton I didn't know how to accept or deal with this particular guilt. Without the ability to hide behind my work I had to turn to the only thing that would aid my in the construction of my wall. The pain meds. Right now I'm staring at my wrist, at the flesh that was once hidden by my watch. Another veil, another hidden truth.

My wrist has a few tiny little holes that signify the deterioration of who I used to be. Do you know how many times I have injected some form of narcotic into someone else's veins or IV??

The lapse in judgment it took to turn the needle to me? Hell, it wasn't a lapse it was the complete breakdown of the naïve construction of what I felt my life was. To be a doctor to help others.

I couldn't hold myself together!! When I told Mark that I needed more medication just to function that was the most honest that I had ever been with myself or with anybody since February. I've always been dependent on what others thought about me, since I lacked so much approval at home. I always had to defend my actions or prove that my decisions were my own and deemed worthy.

I guess that this was ingrained in me so much that I avoided seeking that approval that I always sought. I thought it was time to rely upon myself. No one could possible understood what I've been through so why seek out their help?

I ...I guess self-medicating doesn't quite cover what I did. After the doctor paced my room promising me that something like I experienced has never transpired at the clinic before; I kind of chuckled thinking of him using that same speech to Benton over the phone. Then he geared himself up to tell me his new breakthrough.

In his infinite wisdom he deduced that I have do suffer from extreme pain from not taking the time to recover fully in the first place. I knew this, already. Then his big announcement was that based on our "session" I have buried my feelings concerning the "incident" into my pschye that I'm not letting myself heal. Oh God, a bunch of mumbo jumbo, but I listened.

I have not found a way to overcome the tragedy of the events. This means that all the vent up emotions that have nowhere to go trigger my back pain. He interrupted me before I told him it wasn't psychosomatic. It was more complex then that. I have to allow myself to feel all the emotions that I have already deemed unnecessary or unworthy of me to feel. Once I do this then I can begin the healing process that never really began. I told him to leave be alone for a while.

I thought back to when Benton was pissed off at Abby Keaton for her unusual teaching style. He called in psychobabble. I thought it was interesting, but I paid it little attention. My relationship with Dr. Keaton was one of many...well one of many pleasurable experiences. Then again most of my relationships are based on the physical. Nothing wrong with that, I'm young, in my twenties.

Emotions that I have deemed unworthy? I'm capable of loving others? I definitely like to feel loved. Its just, well I don't most of the time.

I'm not afraid of disappointment. No, I'm not. Have all my relationships with women, been such disasters? I have cared about most of them. I really cared about Anna. Let myself open up then, --- did I really. Is that my problem?

I let Dennis depend upon me and in the end I couldn't handle it. Maybe I don't know how. I could never count on anybody and I have always wanted others to somehow make my decisions seem worthy. God, the only thing I ever wanted was a family. The people at County are my family. They depend on me and I let yet more people down.

I'll be supported. I can call "Him" whenever I need to. Is that it? Have I already found the way? Could it be as simple as reaching out and accepting the help that I have always secretly cared about? All the pain will go away? Is it really in the end---- up to me?

Journals of John Truman Carter
May 22 2000 11:00 p.m. 

I feel responsible for Lucy's death. I feel like I didn't supervise her correctly because I was too caught up in another patient. I know that certain steps could have been taken to prevent such a horrible tragedy. Many other steps by many other people could have also been taken. Not feeling any self worth about the ... the attack I couldn't seek out support for something that I felt was my fault. I needed my work and the comforts of the hospital to get me though each day. I know I never fully comprehended what happened to me that night. I never dealt with the emotions. I hide behind work and behind the idea that my asking for help would never be answered. I could handle it alone.

I was wrong.

I need help and I could really use some people's support. I started taking extra doses of pain medication because I returned to my work, to my shield from the things I didn't want to endure too early. Eventually loosing the battle with the nightmares and the inability to function adequately at work; I started to seek out more forms of medication. I did this for a month. Not for a very long time for a drug dependence, but one second of this abuse should never have occurred.

I feel like I have let many people down, but I have realized the only person that I have let down was myself. I know that now. I want to find the last remains of the old John Carter and piece my life back together. Will you help me when I come back? I want to heal and I think I am on my way. I know that all of you will be there for me upon my return, but to begin the healing process that I ignored I need to ask. I don't need to hear the answer because I know it in my heart what the answer is. You're my family and we count on each other. That's what they are for.

I looked at the letter I wrote in my journal. I copied it and let my doctor read it. He agreed to send it to Kerry, Mark, and Peter. For the first time I felt a great weight lift odd my shoulders. The doctor smiled at me. "You're on you way home Dr. Carter". I smiled back. It was a warm feeling because I truly believed it.

Journals of Peter Benton
May 21st 2000 10:00 p.m. 

I am at a loss for words. I drove him there to get help to get some proper care. To have professionals damn it, look after him. The term professional I thought was only given to those who have expertise in a particular field. Instead we sent him to a place full of incompetence! Since when does a therapy session end in a hospitalization! I hope I made that idiot deaf on the other end, I really feel like ripping his heart out. He never did fully explain why my stu..., why Carter is now in the medical wing of the center instead of his living quarters. Apparently they felt the need to call me over his grandmother, she couldn't be reached. Figures, she came around only a few times while he was at County.

I don't know what to do. Do I go over there? I can't do that, what the hell would I do, over look his care myself? Since when do I play mother hen to John Carter? But, damnit I am sick of the fact the fact that every time I think he's fine, that he has others to watch over him or supervise him, some disaster happens. They call it a break though in his treatment. The last time I checked drug rehabilitation did not cause one to be admitted for medical treatment.

That's the big breakthrough, "their" diagnosis. Apparently according to the good doctor Carter's physical pain does exist and he does suffer from the PTS thing, but his acute pain is linked to his mental state. I'm not a shrink, but I was assured that medically speaking Carter is fine. He better dam well be fine I screamed back. I made them go over every detail of his course of treatment and all medications that they were administering. I think I scared the guy over the phone. He seemed very panicked; he should be damn it!!

Rehabilitation center. I... I was having second thoughts about sending him there. Like I was ever involved in that whole idea. I hung up the phone. My shift started. When did my nice hard exterior get compromised? When did I let one goofy, clumsy, med student become this involved with my life? I guess when he turned into the fine doctor that I'm used to. That I helped create.

Journals of Peter Benton
May 24th 2000 6:00 p.m.

It's been a couple of days since I spoke to Carter or the center. I suppose I should get used to it. My day was as tense as usual, some interesting surgery, clashing with some of the doctors in the ER. The whole hospital seemed back to normal, running its course without stopping, without a moment to pause. It functions regardless what's missing.

I got this letter today. I was hesitant about opening it, if was from Carter. When I finished digesting all the words I had a hard time standing. I sat down in the empty lounge and stared out into the silence. I folded the piece of paper and put it in my wallet.

Then I knew.

Despite how I felt when I left those basketball courts, it didn't hit me with complete satisfaction that John Carter was going to alright. He's going to be alright because when he returns I'm going to help him. I'm going to give him support and I'm going to do it because I want to.

Because the one thing I have had such a hard time resolving, the thing I had a hard time opening up to him when I was his doctor. He's my family, too.

I can't wait to welcome you home again, John. That way I can give you a hard time again like a --- brother ought to do.

The end