REFLECTIONS Part 3/3
By Missy
(missy@lexicon.net)

The characters that you recognise from ER are the
property of Michael Crichton, Warner Bros, Constant
Productions and Amblin Television and to the actors who
so marvellously portray them.  Thanks to the kind offer of
Carolann and Carolyn, one of my usual editors, for
editing this before being posted.   Be warned, it is as the
title says, reflections and written in the first person.  I also
forgot to mention in Part 1 that it has spoilers for Season
6.  Now I think it was Mandy who suggested about where
Carter's recuperation days should be spent and I think
you must have ESP since I had already planned it <g>

Frantically I searched through the album for the single
photo I knew existed.  It was a group photo but it was the
only one in which Lucy was centered where you could
actually see her.  In all the others, the only intimation that
she was actually in the photo was the golden halo of her
head or a noticeable space as she was towered over by her
co-workers.  She had made me feel tall.   

Fresh tears flowed and this time a box of tissues was
miraculously produced.  "Kerry, I know you've lost your
friend today but do you have to dwell on this time.  There
are many happy memories at County."  He hated me
dwelling on this particular event.  Each time I thought
about it, I would keep examining how things could have
turned out differently.

In all my time working in the ER of any hospital, I had
never before been placed in a position of a staff member
being seriously injured by a patient, let alone murdered. 
Yet both had occurred on the same day, in the same
incident.

There had been no suggestion of anything out of the
ordinary, it had been a typical Valentine's Day evening
except for the tragic events that followed.   Psychiatric
patients were always difficult to assess.  In the ER, we
have to deal with a wide range of illnesses and their
presentation but psych patients were the hardest because
there was always that possibility that they could be a
danger to themselves or others around them.  

I still remember the case in mid 1998 when the man who
had been declared fit for release, only hours later
presented back at the ER after having shot his wife and
two kids.  The only reason he hadn't shot himself was that
he had run out of bullets.  This is the type of situation that
walked into the ER that night.  

Lucy had treated the patient six months earlier when he
believed that he was being told to kill his wife.  At the
time he had been placed under the care of the psychiatric
department.  Now, six months later he had come into the
ER again.  His request to be seen by Lucy had not seemed
unusual considering her past experience with the case. 
Lydia had been in the room with Lucy when the attack
occurred.  Apparently, he had just pounced on Lucy with
a carving knife, repeatedly stabbing her as he had claimed
she had ruined his life.  

Lydia had called for security and attempted to get him off
her before being thrown violently in a corner.  The force
behind the push had broken her arm in three places. 
Carter and Malucci had heard the call for help, rushing in
the doors as he continuously thrust the knife into Lucy. 
Each attempted grabbing his arm but had forgotten the
strength that a psych patient has.  Carter was stabbed in
the stomach.  Malucci escaped injury long enough to
follow my previous advice, "give him an upper right cut
and knock him out".  

I still remember walking in on the scene.  Blood seemed
to be flowing from all directions around Lucy.   Her chest
resembled a pin cushion, deep stab wounds penetrating all
major organs.  Malucci was desperately trying to perform
CPR in the middle of the chaos.  Carter clutched his
stomach, trying to stem the blood dripping freely over his
fingers.  He was in a state of shock, not comprehending
the fact that both Lucy and he had been stabbed.  In the
centre of the room stood the culprit, handcuffed between
security, the blood of his victims staining his clothes and
still muttering about how Lucy had ruined his life.

In the next forty-eight hours, Lucy fought to live but the
damage to her organs had been extensive.  Even if she had
lived, one of the stab wounds had severed part of her
spinal cord.  Her chosen career as a doctor would have
been finished.  Carter had lacerations to his liver which
were repaired in the surgical department.  Benton operated
with care and after six weeks, he was able to return to the
ER.  

Counselling was needed for all staff.  None of us were
heroic enough to deny it.  That day had left its imprint
firmly on all of our minds and we were not going to forget
it soon.  To work in an ER of a hospital is not easy, the
workload is demanding, but it is made harder when the
staff have to suspect each patient that enters its doors.  

With John needing close access to the hospital, I decided
to break my rules for a change and offered him back his
former accommodation.  He had assumed it was
temporary and I enjoyed his look of surprise when I
advised him it would be permanent.   It always brought a
smile to my face when I did the unexpected to others. 
Sometimes it is nice not to be predictable.

It has surprised me that John had never married.  I
couldn't believe that there wasn't a girl out there who
wouldn't fall for those gorgeous eyes and that lovely
body.   Need I say that accidents do happen when a man
and woman share a bathroom.  I always thought he would
marry before I ever did.  But it wasn't to be.  

The photograph of my wedding day, leaning on his arm as
he guided me down the aisle of the church.  He had been
wonderful enough to give me away on that most important
day.   His eyes had glittered as he had handed me over. 
Over the years, he had teased me mercilessly over the
occasion.  The teasing was always good natured, true of
John's character  I had balked at the door of the church,
afraid of the commitment I was about to make.  Eyes from
the congregation had turned as I had not come down the
aisle and the man I loved stood pleading at the altar.  John
had talked me through it all, convincing me that it would
be okay.  He had been right, in the way he had been right
about many things in life.  

It had been John who had set my friendship with Mark in
the right direction.  I don't know what he said to Mark but
I do know what he said to me and after the events on
Valentine's Day 2000, none of our previous arguments
seemed important anymore.  I covered my mouth as I bit
back the bitter sobs that threatened to overwhelm me. 
Mark had been buried earlier this morning. Elizabeth,
Rachel and Mark's grandchildren had stood at the edge of
his grave, saying their farewells. Mark had died from lung
cancer.   Elizabeth and Mark had never married but had
remained true to each other.  She had supported him as he
had fallen ill, giving him the care and love that he had
relied upon in their relationship.  I had hung back, giving
them time to absorb their loss before approaching
Elizabeth.  We clung to each other, seeking solace in the
embrace.  
I cried as I remembered Mark.  Our talks, our fiery
debates, our understanding of what drove each of us. 
Robert pulled me into his arms, shutting the album which
held both happy and sad memories.  He sat holding me,
his body transferring fingers of warmth over me, easing
into my tired arthritic joints.  While I still had Robert, I
had a friend, comforter and a cherished husband.  My
tears subsided and I coughed as the night air began to chill
me once again.  Robert easily stood as he held out his arm
to help me inside.  Memories of the past sat on the old
swing, rocked gently in the evening breeze, to be
remembered again.

The end.