gleesanatomy | Entries tagged with [where] neurosurgical unit

woman-or-a-girl.livejournal.com

I hope you know you are in VERY deep trouble with your hag, darling fag.

woman-or-a-girl.livejournal.com

Who?

live4today and

woman_or_a_girl
What? The nurse makes her rounds
When? Early Sunday AM
Where? Jack's room, Neurosurgical Unit

Quinn's shift had just started, which explained why she was in a relatively good mood, still cheerful and alert instead of living on a cup of coffee by the end of the day. Being on day shifts this rotation was a blessing, and one she was very grateful for. It was incredible how twelve hours on in the daytime felt like nothing by comparison to twelve hours on over the nighttime hours, but it was the truth.

Glancing over the chart for her next patient, Quinn realized it was someone she hadn't met before. Most of the patients in her unit had been here on her last shift, before she took some leave to go on vacation with her mom and sister for a girls-only trip, but this was a new name, and apparently, a very puzzling case for the doctors. Relatively young guy, not yet in his thirties. Paperwork signed by both Dr. Pearson and Dr. Anderson... So he'd been seen in the ER, and then had surgery. Quinn's mind slotted all of his information in as she acquainted herself with his file, just as she did with any patient she worked with. It was important to know what was going on before she went into a room. Like her best friend, Kurt, Quinn knew her shit as a nurse, and she refused to be unprepared.

File in hand, she made her way down the corridor to the room of the patient, knocking lightly against the already open door before she went in. "Mr. Frazer?" she said softly as she started to round the corner. The patient was lying in his hospital bed and looking like hell. Not that Quinn ever judged on that. Looking like hell after neurosurgery was pretty damn common, and she probably would've been slightly concerned if he didn't. Cauterization of a cerebral hemorrhage was no laughing matter, and certainly not a simple outpatient deal, and then there was still the fact that no one knew what had caused this guy's tumble in the first place. "My name is Quinn Fabray... I'm your nurse today."

nickthewarbler.livejournal.com

Who:

nickthewarbler and

zizes_schmizes
What: That crazy little thing called... life
Where: Neurosurgical Unit
When: A couple of days after visiting Artie
Rating: Innocent, baby on board (again)

It was another of Nick's rostered days off and he - gratefully - managed to get five whole hours of consistent sleep the night before. That was some sort of miracle considering his sleep patterns of late, he just couldn't tell whether he actually felt any better for it. After another failed attempt at the toilet training regime that morning, Nick bundled Rory up, packed his baby bag that was close to packing for a month-long vacation by the time you considered how much crap a baby might need when out, and then headed to the hospital again.

By the time he finished visiting Artie the other day, Rory had been in a miserable, tired and grizzly mood so rather than stopping in on Lauren, Nick just took him home for an early bed. But had promised Artie he would drop in again on his next day off, but this time he figured he should see Lauren first whilst Rory was in a relative good mood. Artie was used to the tired toddler mode, and after all, that's what family was for, right?

With Rory nursed on his hip, Nick made his way back to Lauren's room for the first time since he walked out in a confused haze. Rory was intently playing with the cord on Nick's hoodie before shoving the little into his mouth and drooling all over it. He was teething again, so yet another force to be reckoned with. He noticed now that she seemed to have acquired a room mate who was sleeping on the opposite side fo the room. "Hey," he greeted her with a smile and he walked softly and carefully into the room.

live4themoment.livejournal.com

Who:

live4themoment and

zizes_schmizes
What: Random meeting
Where: Neurosurgical Unit
When: Jack has no idea
Rating: Innocent

Jack knew he was hospital. He knew he was seriously sick. He knew he had bandages wrapped around his head. Beyond that, there wasn't a distinct amount of recognition. He didn't know he was in the Neurosurgical Unit, or what hospital. He didn't know the unit was connected to the High Dependency Unit and that he was here because he was seriously sick. He didn't really know what was wrong beyond the fact he apparently had brain bleeding, and that was a piece of information he had only been able to retain when the doctor actually quit with the medical jargon and called it 'bleeding on the brain'. They kept telling him, too, that he was ill but they couldn't do any further tests on him until he healed a little. They listed the tests they wanted to do, but Jack had no clue what they were on about.

But he was awake, so that was a start. Dazed, but awake. And he had a whole bunch of flower arrangements sitting at various points in the room. At first, his vision was blurry and he hadn't been able to focus on what the colours were, but now that he had been awake for a couple of days, he could see them. They were beautiful, but his parents couldn't tell him who was sending them. None of them had cards. Now he just felt sick and the pain in his head took it out of him. Lying in the hospital bed with tubes and wires connected him was almost like a holiday. The time just ticked away when he was awake. He really didn't have the energy for anything.

zizes-schmizes.livejournal.com

It's been a while since I've posted, I know. And I'm sorry about that, dear readers, whoever and wherever you are. The truth is, I haven't been too busy, and I haven't been neglecting informing you about my oh-so-glamorous life - it's because I've been in the hospital.

So, your favorite blogger has a confession: I've been having really bad migraines, so bad that I used to spend days in bed at a time because just moving or seeing light or hearing things would make me feel like I was dying. So, my loving father gently chided me [read: bitched me out] to see a doctor. So, I did. And they did an MRI. And they found something. So - earlier in the week, I had exploratory brain surgery. And ... the thing that the docs found? Turns out to be a tumor. [Insert Schwarzenegger 'It's not a tumah' wav here, totally] And it's inoperable. And even if I have chemo to shrink the fucker, they don't know if it'll work. So. Do I stick with the 1-10 years they say I might have, or do I do the chemo and maybe eke a tiny bit more time out of it? I don't know. I have a lot of thinking to do, I think.

The most shocking part of all wasn't even the diagnosis. It was seeing One True Love afterwards. Apparently, he works here. And he'd been told I was here. And he came to see me. Talk about a surprise. And maybe a good one, I thought, considering I've been in love with him since I was 16 years old. I left Dr. Dinosaur, Ph.D. practically at the altar because of the hope I had of reconnecting with OTL. And I really wanted to be Mrs. Dr. Dinosaur, Ph.D.

We talked for a while, I disclosed my diagnosis and then he dropped the bombshell that he was a dad. A single dad. Which, I mean, I know he dated after me - it's one of the reasons I stopped talking to him on Facebook and whatever - it just hurt too much to know that he'd moved on when I couldn't.

I might've asked him to come see me again. And he might've said that he can't do 'this', whatever 'this' is, and I haven't seen him since. I won't lie. I want 'this' to be 'us'. And it hurt when I finally realized that there will probably never be another chance at 'us'.

So, hope? I kind of don't have any right now. About anything. And having no hope is probably worse than just about anything in the world.

Signing off, your faithful blogfriend.

nickthewarbler.livejournal.com

Who:

nickthewarbler and

zizes_schmizes
What: Faces from the past
Where: Neurosurgical Ward
When: Monday night
Rating: G

Nick had just finished a twelve hour shift that had been one of those intense shifts that just didn't want to let up. It didn't help that two-thirds the way in, they got a nine year old child who couldn't be revived no matter what they did. There was nothing worse than getting that flatline mid-flight when you know you're still a good ten minutes out from the hospital. He was exhausted, and he gratefully accepted the coffee Blaine met him with in the staff dining room. They often caught up after Nick's shifts for a coffee. At least, when his shift happened to end at William McKinley, and if Blaine was available.

"Have you got to head straight home?" Blaine asked as he tossed his empty cup into the trash and adjusted his stethscope around his neck. He looked tired too, but he had admitted he was in it for the long haul that night.

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[ooc: Blaine used with much love and permission]