Autumn 2000
Previously on ER
Dave was attacked one night and seriously injured. Recovering from his injuries in hospital, he started suffering from nightmares relating to the attack. Carter returned from Rehab and managed to get Dave to confide in him, by telling him about his own nightmares. He also tried to persuade Dave to seek help telling him that things might have been different had he sought help after his stabbing.
"You mean you might not have taken the fentanyl?"
The words hung in the air.
Dave regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth. He hadn't intended to say anything; after all, a promise was a promise.
John stared at him, open-mouthed. "How did you find out? Who told you?" he asked hoarsely.
Dave sighed. "Well I knew something was wrong that day in the lounge, when Mark and Kerry had that meeting with you. And with you disappearing so soon after, I figured there was more to it than we were being told. So I asked around, and someone cracked."
"Luka?" asked John. He couldn't believe that Kerry or Mark would have said anything.
"Of course not," said Dave indignantly. "Hell, he doesn't even know that I know. Believe me."
"Then who? Was it Deb?"
"Hell, Jing-Mei barely gives me the right time of day. You think she'd tell me something like this?" Dave could see that John was getting upset. Sighing, he said, "If you must know - and I don't want you giving her a hard time over this - it was Abby."
A few days after John's sudden departure from the ER, Dave called after Abby as she hurried up the stairs to the roof, but she either didn't hear or was ignoring him. He watched as she pushed open the door and debated momentarily with himself as to whether he should follow her or not. Finally he made up his mind and followed her out onto the roof.
Abby brushed the tears out of her eyes when she heard the footsteps behind her.
"Abby, Are you okay?" asked Dave hesitantly.
"Just go away Dave, please," replied Abby as she lit up a cigarette.
"I just wanted to say sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that we needed to get the guy tubed and there wasn't time to let you try again. It's my fault, I know. I should have been able to guide you through it a bit better."
Abby looked at him, "You think I'm upset because you pushed me out of the way and took over?"
"Well aren't you? I mean I wasn't exactly gentle about it."
Abby shook her head. "It has nothing to do with you taking over. You were right to do it. He needed an airway, and I was fumbling it. It's just that seeing him there. He was so young, had all his life ahead of him, and he threw it all away on drugs."
"Hey, he's still alive. He'll live to shoot up another day." Dave leaned on the wall beside Abby and looked out over the city. "You know, sometimes I wonder why we bother saving them. I mean sooner or later they all end up in the morgue."
"They're not all like that. Car..." Abby bit off the rest of her sentence, tears springing to her eyes at the thought of Carter.
"Do you know something about Carter?" asked Dave in surprise. He saw Abby's face freeze up. "You do know something." Dave thought for a moment. "Has this got something to do with that meeting I gate crashed in the lounge last week? You know, when you, Greene and the Chief were waiting for Carter?"
"Dave, I don't want to talk about it." Abby tried to brush the tears away, but they were coming faster now. "I just..."
"Hey, don't cry, Abby," said Dave helplessly. "Oh shit," he thought, wondering should he leave her alone, or try to comfort her. Feeling awkward, he put his arm around her shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it? I promise, I won't tell anyone."
Abby sighed. Ever since she had told Dr Greene what she had seen in Trauma One, she had been ridden with guilt. It hadn't helped to find out that she had been proved right. The worst thing was that she hadn't been able to talk to anyone about it. Dr Greene and Dr Weaver had seemed so unapproachable since then, and she couldn't talk to anyone outside of the hospital. After remaining silent for a few minutes, she looked up at Dave. "You have to promise that you won't tell anyone else."
Dave nodded, "It won't go any further than me."
"Anyway, Carter, I basically hounded it out of her. But I guess she needed to get it off her chest to someone. She felt really guilty about narking on you to Greene."
John sighed. "She shouldn't feel guilty. She did the right thing, although I wasn't happy about it at the time. If she hadn't spoken up when she did...well things would only have got worse. I'd have ended up killing myself or a patient." He looked up at Dave. "I came close a few times. I'd look at the syringe and think how easy it would be to just inject an air bubble."
It was Dave's turn to be shocked. "I can't believe that, Carter." He was silent for a moment. "You're not....I mean, you're okay now?"
"If you mean am I suicidal?" John shook his head. "Not anymore. I've gotten past that. But if you mean am I still addicted? Well, once an addict always an addict, but hopefully with a little help," he corrected himself, "with a lot of help, I may be able to stay clean."
"John, you know if there's anything I can do to help you, I will. And I won't be the only one. You have a lot of friends in this place."
"I don't know what to say."
"Hey, you went through a rough time. You made some mistakes. Now you're back. It's as simple as that."
"I wish it was that simple. I don't think everyone will see it that way."
"Well that's their problem, not yours. You've been to Rehab; you're clean. Hell, the chief would never have let you come back if she didn't believe in you."
John was silent. Dave continued, "So why did you take the fentanyl?"
John sighed heavily. "I bottled up my guilt and my pain as best as I could. If anyone asked, I said I was doing fine. I tried to throw myself into my work. But then I found the pain was preventing me from working. So I took stuff to ease the pain, so I could work. I felt that if I showed up for work every day, and never complained, that things would be all right. That the memories would fade, and life would return to normal. But it didn't."
There was silence in the room for a few minutes before John continued, "Dave, don't make the same mistake I did. Talk about how you feel. If you don't want to speak to someone face to face, then call a help line, but talk to someone. Promise me you'll do it."
"I promise," said Dave hesitantly.
The next day, Luka pushed an empty wheelchair into Dave's room. Dave was sitting on his bed wearing a pair of scrubs that he had persuaded one of the nurses to bring him. Dave knew that it was just psychological, but it made him feel a lot better to be wearing normal clothes instead of hospital gowns. He looked up as Luka came in.
"What's this?" Dave asked, looking at the wheelchair in surprise.
"It is a wheelchair Dave. Do you not remember?" said Luka with a deadpan expression.
"Ha ha, I know it's a wheelchair. I meant what are you doing with it?"
"I thought that I would bring you up to psych for your first session."
Dave's face clouded over. "Don't you trust me to go by myself?" he asked quietly, looking away from Luka.
Luka sighed and sat down beside Dave. "It is not a question of trust, Dave. I know that this is not going to be easy for you. I thought that it might help if you had someone to take you to your session. If you do not wish me to bring you, then I will ask one of the nurses."
Dave looked back at Luka. "Sorry, Luka. I....I appreciate the thought, and I would like you to come with me. Guess I could use all the help I can get." Looking at the chair, he said, "Do I have to use that?"
"Doctors orders. It is a long walk to the Psych department. Come, it is time we were going."
Dave sighed. He knew that he wasn't going to win this argument. Carefully he lowered himself into the chair.
Dr Pomerantz came out of her office. "Dr Malucci?" she said to Dave. "I'm ready for you now."
Luka patted Dave reassuringly on the shoulder. "It will be all right. You are in good hands, and I will see you afterwards."
"Thanks Luka," said Dave, as Nina pushed him into her office.
Closing the door behind him, she said, "So, would you like to take a seat?"
"Thanks, but I've already got one," replied Dave. He looked around the office. "What, no couch?"
"A psychiatrists couch is a bit of a cliché nowadays. I find that armchairs are more relaxing." She indicated a pair of comfortable looking chairs separated by a small coffee table. "You sure you don't want to get out of that chair?"
Dave considered for a moment and then moved himself into one of the armchairs. Nina sat down opposite him, a file in her hand. "There's a few things I want to make clear before we start, Dr Malucci."
"Please, call me Dave."
"Okay then, Dave. Firstly, these sessions are totally confidential. Whatever you tell me will not leave this room. No one, not your friends, your family, or even your boss, will be told what happens here without your full permission."
Dave nodded his acknowledgment. He knew all about doctor-patient privilege, but he had been worried that other doctors in the hospital would be able to find out about his treatment.
Nina continued, "The other thing I want you to understand is that these sessions are totally voluntary. At any time, for any reason, you can decide that you don't want to continue with them. Obviously, I would hope that you won't just walk out, but if you do feel that you can't continue, then all I ask is that you tell me why."
Dave was silent as he contemplated what Nina was saying. He was still wary of confiding in people about his problems, but he knew that he couldn't possibly go on without getting help. Last night he had had one of his worst nightmares yet. He had woken up in a cold sweat and had spent hours lying awake before finally falling into an exhausted sleep just before dawn.
"So, let's begin," said Nina.
to be continued
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ceindreadh
"i have never understood why it is necessary to become irrational in order to prove that you care, or why it should be necessary to prove it at all"
Kerr Avon
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