You suffered from regular Crohn’s attacks — too regular in fact. They told you a stoma would improve your quality of life, but they didn’t say it would come with its own problems. 

Medical supplies piled up outside your apartment because you were too overwhelmed with it all. It was all new — the stoma, your weak immune system, the stoma bags that never seemed to fit right. The fear of leakage, especially in the night, then the blockage… All of it. 

But thanks to the lovely staff at PTMC, who had saved your life more times than you could remember. Between weekly injections, stoma blockage and skin infections, you became a regular there. This wasn’t the life you imagined, but it was the life given to you so you dealt with it. You sighed and dropped your head back into the pillow, waiting in room three at PTMC for one of the doctors to come and check on your stoma. 

If they insisted on one more round of antibiotics, you were going to cry and give up on all of this. 

— 

Abbot’s mind was elsewhere; that’s how it was most days. He stared into the distance, mind empty but yet so full of worries. 

Then the image of you popped into his head, and that got him to focus. Only you and just you. Although he hadn’t seen your face, just your hair, your body… your shadow. He wasn’t a very curious man, no. But when it came to you, he certainly became one. 

“… there doesn’t seem to be an infection, but we can give prophylactic …”

The chatter was all a distant echo for him. 

“Dr Abbot?” Perla’s voice snapped him back to reality. 

“Sorry missed that” he blinked a few times, remembering where he was. 

“I was talking about your patient in room three? I need one of your doctors to take a look at her before I leave.”

He looked around for someone but everyone was too busy doing rounds. 

“Can you do it?” She asked. 

“Uhh… I would love to but I have to be somewhere else. I’ll send Parker. Thank you,  Perla”

He smiled at her and quickly rushed off. This wasn’t him — to not listen, not mentor or not take it all in. 

This wasn’t like him at all.

— 

“Hey” 

“Hey, Dr Ellis, thank you for seeing me so quickly. I really don’t mind waiting”

“Oh, I don’t think it would be wise for us to do that. You’re spiking a fever, and your stoma’s looking inflamed.”

“So just the usual then?” you gave her a small smile. 

“I’m sorry you’re having to come back. It must be disheartening to keep going through this every week”

“I should be the one saying sorry for wasting your time. What’s it gonna be this time? Antibiotics and fluids?”

She shook her head. 

“You’re admitting me?!” 

“Just for a few hours — we’ll get an IV and a cocktail of the best mix on the house”

“I can do it at home through the PICC line. Just tell me what I need to take and when, I’ll be okay!” 

“Not this time, I’m sorry” 

You sighed. It wasn’t her fault, of course, it wasn’t. You lived alone, you were considered high risk — it would be stupid to go home in this condition. 

“Few hours — I promise you.” She gave you a tap on the shoulder and walked out. 

She indeed stuck to her promise; she prioritised you and managed to get your meds in quickly, so you can go home early. 

“Patient in room three is getting discharged” Ellis said to Lena by the hub.

“Already?” Abbot said, looking back at the room “Isn’t she high risk?”

“It’s either that or she never comes back here, and we need her to keep coming back”

He muttered hmmm, not wanting to argue further. He didn’t know who the patient was — didn’t look at the name or address. Not his patient, not his problem. 

Until he saw the same figure again, leaving the ER doors shortly after. 

It couldn’t be, no, he thought to himself. He tried to walk towards the shadow but people kept talking to him. Voices and bodies blocked his path. Too many people got in his way. Until the shadow moved away and he indeed missed it again.

He convinced himself he was dreaming, or it wasn’t you. It couldn’t be you — how did he miss you? 

He was so close. 

He thought of going through the records or asking someone who you were. But that would be wrong, morally wrong. And Jack Abbot was a good man. 

— 

Thanks to Dr Ellis and her magical cocktail, you were feeling much better. At least now, you had the energy to move all the boxes into the apartment. It didn’t mean that you were going to empty them, no. They will most likely sit in boxes and overwhelm you until next week’s delivery. 

But by the time morning came, you indeed woke up a bit more energised. But you weren’t going to empty the boxes. You wrote on your anonymous, online blog about yet another struggle. 

Living with chronic illness was tricky for the patient and not just physically, not just mentally, but also socially. As much as your loved ones were supportive as you navigated through your illness, you felt like a burden.

They’d ask you how you were.

The honest answer would be: I can’t seem to gain weight, my stoma is yet again inflamed. I’ve changed my stoma bag three times today, which is actually wonderful given that I no longer go to the toilet fifteen times a day. 

But you simply said: I’m great! How are you?

So having an anonymous diary where you could share your struggle with people who also were going through chronic illness was a great coping mechanism.. 

You wrote:

I wonder if people without a chronic illness think about how their life would be if they had one? How would they cope? What would they say? Would they survive it?

Because someone told me once that they think they wouldn’t struggle too much if they had a chronic illness themselves. 

What I would have liked to say was: screw you. But instead I said: Aren’t you lucky you get the option to imagine it and not live it?

Your online blog was a way to cope, a way to survive, and a way to connect. 

You saw comments flood through, and you smiled at your screen. You loved this corner of the internet. 

— 

The boxes had been moved in; that was what Abbot noticed first. He wondered if you were physically able to lift them all yourself? If you had somewhere to store all of them?

He stared at the door for a little too long before walking back into his apartment. 

He dreamt that he no longer missed you. That he finally got to meet you. 

—

Abbot had convinced himself that the shadow was now following him at work. Because otherwise, why did he see it weekly at PTMC?

Sometimes it was your shadow.

Sometimes it was your hair. 

Sometimes it was the shape of your body through the glass doors.

It was never your face. 

Until one day…

“Hey Lena”

“Hey Jack, how are you doing? You’re here early”

“Uh couldn’t sleep. So I obviously came back to my favourite place” 

She smiled and shook her head “You need a hobby”

“Hey, can I ask you about the patient in central 11 — I saw her initials on the board, and she’s here a lot” Abbot tried to sound casual. 

“Oh yeah, her” she replied with a warm smile “she’s a sweetheart. Comes in weekly for injections, and sometimes for complications with her Crohn’s or her PICC line.”

“Why come to the ER for that? Why not her usual clinic?” Abbot wasn’t upset that the patient was coming in regularly, more curious to see why she was here all this time. 

“If you read her chart, you’d understand. She should never be turned away. She can go downhill in minutes.”

Abbot stared at the room in the distance 

“Why?” Lena tried to hide her smile.

He snapped out of whatever land he was in and looked at Lena letting out a hmm?

“What’s ticking in that old mind of yours?”

“Oh nothing. I was just curious about her that’s all. What’s her name?”

“Why don’t you go in and ask her?” Lena smirked.

“Too busy — gotta go” he smiled and walked away. 

— 

“Parker Central 11 isn’t looking too well” Mateo rushed over to her “fever, shakes, pain and meds not even touching it”

“Shit, alright.” Parker muttered “Get Shen in, please” 

He nodded and rushed off.

You were curled onto your side, tears slipping down your face “Parker… please make it stop.”

“Talk to me — what the hell happened?”

“It won’t stop leaking and there’s blood coming out of it”

“How much blood?” Parker asked. 

You and Ellis, whom you now call Parker, became close. Being in and out of the hospital so often didn’t really give you a choice; you ended up forming bonds with almost everyone on the team. Parker also trusted you — you knew your condition too well, better than anyone else here.

“I don’t think… it was a lot” you winced “but it was fresh, light in colour no clots”

“Okay let’s get you on your back, please”

“I’m leaking everywhere” you sobbed as she helped turn you over. 

“And I don’t give a shit, literally” she joked. You appreciated her sense of humour, despite how much pain you were in. She normalised your illness which you were immensely grateful for. She didn’t treat you like you were… dying. She treated you like a person first, then chronic illness second. 

“Backup’s here” Mateo rushed back in with another nurse and Shen.

“Dunkin Doc, how are we doing?” You managed to quietly say between waves of pain.

“Better than you” he joked, putting on gloves “how bad?”

“Fifteen” you yelled. Another wave of pain was taking over. 

“Morphine?” Shen asked as he helped Parker on the stoma. 

“She said no to start with” Parker said “but she’s being stupid”

“I love you too, Parker” you groaned “I’ll take some of that morphine now”

Mateo nodded and added some to your IV. You had leaked all over the bed, yourself and them. But no one said anything as they worked around it. 

— 

“What’s with all the yelling in central 11?” Abbot asked Lena.

She shrugged and casually said “go in and see for yourself”

He shook his head and walked the opposite direction. 

— 

“That is a good mix” you said quietly as you felt the pain meds starting to work. “Miracle workers, all of you” 

“Bleeding’s slowing down but we’ll need to speak with colorectal. O-neg?” Parker seemed a bit more relieved now. 

“Not yet, let’s wait for bloods?” You sighed “I hate colorectal. They’re a pain in the ass. Literally” you joked quietly, eyes fighting sleep “hey can I have some wipes to clean this mess, please?”

“I’ve got it,” Mateo said gently. He leaned over with warm wipes and started cleaning you up with care.

“You’re too good to me” you said quietly as you drifted off to sleep.

— 

“How’s central 11 doing?” Abbot asked Lena, trying to sound causal but this time he failed. 

Lena raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips “I don’t know, Jack, you seem really interested in her” 

He stayed quiet. His mind was ticking, who was she?

“You are interested in her!” She teased “Why don’t you go check in on her?”

Jack hesitated for a moment then finally mustered the energy to go see the patient. Her shadow reminded him of you. 

He walked in to find the room empty.

He stood there in silence, staring at the freshly made bed. Another missed chance.

He wondered why fate was so against him. 

—

You woke up alone in the room, your head feeling heavy but pain-wise, you had none. Or maybe you did, a small bit. But compared to your attack earlier on, you felt good. 

Colorectal of course, didn’t come down to see you, and you were pleased with that. They were only going to push more immunosuppressants on you, which you weren’t ready for anymore. You were a lot cleaner now and had been changed into a gown. There was no more poo on you or the bed. You then realised you had changed rooms altogether. 

You ordered donuts for the whole team as a thank you for everything they’d done. You were hungry too, so you got plenty for yourself. One of the one perks of your Crohn’s was that you never seemed to gain weight, so you figured you might as well enjoy the extra donuts. 

— 

“Room 22 got everyone donuts” Mateo announced, carrying a few boxes with a big smile on his face. 

“Well isn’t that nice of her” Parker said, immediately taking two “how is she doing?”

“Last time I checked she was waking up slowly. Colorectal isn’t here yet”

“Who are we talking about?” Abbot walked over, casually stealing a donut.

“Room 22” Parker said as she took a bite

He put his hands out to say who?

“You know… our ER regular. Frequent flyer” Another bite. 

He shook his head.

“Central 11? Yelling? Stoma?”

Central 11 is still here? His mind was screaming, telling him to go. But he casually said “No clue. I’ll go say thank you — leave some donuts for the rest, please”

Abbot’s heart hammered in his chest as he walked toward the room, donut in hand.

“Hi, I just wanted to say thank you for the donuts, I—”

The words died in his throat.

The donut slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a soft thud.

It was you.

It was unmistakably you. 

He had never seen your face but he’d recognise you anywhere. 

You were more beautiful than he ever imagined. 

He pictured your face, of course, he did. He pictured a million scenarios on how you two would meet. 

But you being in a hospital bed, fragile, sick, at risk, was not one of the scenarios.

Because if he had met you anywhere else, he would be asking for your number. Heck, he’d even tell you how gorgeous you were and how many complicated feelings he had for a stranger. 

But there you were, in his hospital and under his care. And he couldn’t even ask for your name.

Not his patient, not his problem, he reminded himself. 

But then he thought to himself — this might be the time to be selfish. The time to… shoot his shot. 

“For the donuts. Sorry, uh…” he bent down and picked it back up “How are you feeling?”

He cleared his throat and tried to look anywhere but you. He waited all these months, and he couldn’t even look you in the eye. 

— 

You wondered why this doctor was so flustered; it was quiet intriguing actually. 

He was a lot older than Parker and John; he had beautiful salt and pepper curls that shaped his face. You watched him as he fidgeted with his stethoscope and you wondered if he was nervous to see you? You also wondered if he was new. 

He asked for your name.

“It’s on the chart” you said quietly. You liked how flustered he seemed, so you decided to tease him. “But you can call me…”

“Misty. Can I call you Misty?” 

“That’s a cute nickname” you smiled “yes you can call me misty”

Jack’s expression softened. To him, you felt like mist — quiet, difficult to catch, hard to hold onto, yet refreshingly beautiful.

“Nice to meet you Misty. My name is Jack”

“I know” you teased.

Jack’s heart dropped and thought to himself you knew him?

“It’s on your name badge — I’m not a stalker, I promise”

Jack let out a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his curls. You made him strangely nervous, though he couldn’t quite understand why. You then felt him relax a bit. 

“Would you like a donut?” He asked, still holding onto the one he brought in. 

“I would love one… but maybe not that one. I heard there was a poop explosion earlier in one of the rooms and bacteria spreads”

He froze for a second, then burst into a genuine laugh. You laughed with him, the sound easing some of the tension in the room

He nodded, still smiling “I’ll bring you a fresh one”

And with that, he left the room. Jack didn’t return to the room no, he rushed outside for fresh air. 

He had finally found you and, you were his patient. 

His fate was cruel. His fate was unkind. 

He clutched onto his chest and tried to slow his breathing down. He repeated to himself 

I found her… but I can’t have her.

I found her… but I can’t have her.

I found her… but I can’t have her.

— 

Jack, the doctor, never returned to your room with the promised donut. You asked Parker if she’d let you go home which she of course protested, but eventually agreed to it. On the basis that you’d come back the next night for another check up. You protested, of course, but then agreed to it. 

You said bye to everyone and wondered if you’ll get to see Jack again. 

“Central 22 self-discharged but she said she’ll be back tomorrow night for a check-up”

Jack’s heart sank “she— she left?”

“Couldn’t keep her here. She’s more than capable of managing her condition”

He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling dizzy. A thin sheen of sweat broke out across his skin. “I, uh… I’m gonna head out. Robby’s around, right?”

Parker shot him a look of concern and slowly said “yeah… he is”

Jack barely waited for her answer before heading for the exit. He drove home faster than he should have, heart pounding the entire way. When he stepped off the elevator, he froze.

There you were, trying to unlock your apartment door. 

You glanced up, did a double-take, and your eyes widened.

“Jack…?”

“Hi” he said softly, almost breathless.

“What are you doing here?” You couldn’t help but smile, although still surprised. 

“I live here,” he replied, gesturing to the door just a few steps away. “Right over there.”

“We’re neighbours? And you didn’t say anything?” You smiled, your heart screamed: he was your neighbour!

“Yes…I did see it on your chart but I didn’t want to mention it. Didn’t want to seem like a stalker,” he said quietly.

“That’s…. Good to know” you smiled “nice to see you again, Jack”

“Nice to see you too” he walked to you slowly “Parker said you’ll be back at the ER tomorrow for a check-up?

You nodded. 

“Anything you need, just let me know. My shift starts at seven in the evening”

“I will do, thank you” 

Your heart was racing. The attractive, mysterious doctor who had made you nervous earlier was now your neighbour.

“See you later, Jack”

“See you later, Misty” his voice warm and gentle. 

—

Of course, you didn’t leave Jack’s mind. He had found you, finally found you. The shadow he’d chased through hallways and dreamed about…And now he knew you weren’t a ghost. You were real. With that bright smile and those beautiful eyes that had completely undone him.

He wished if you could be his, but he didn’t want to push his luck.

He made it over to the Pitt and kept glancing over at his watch, waiting for you to come in. But you never came. 

“Parker, she didn’t come”

“Who?”

“Stoma? Central 11? Self-discharged yesterday?”

“Ohh shit yeah” she muttered “We need to call her or send someone over for a welfare check. I discharged her on a promise she’d come back tonight” she glanced over at Jack who had the look of his fear in his eyes. “Spit it out Jack”

He hesitated for half a second before saying, “She’s my neighbour. I saw her in the morning… she told me she’d be in.”

“I can hold the fort” she said.

“What?” 

“Go!” She could see the hurt in his eyes. “We have Shen and Henderson, don’t be long”

He rushed home.

Knocked on the door. Hard. 

No one answered. 

He wanted to break the door down.

So he knocked again. Harder. 

The door opened. It was an older woman, crying. 

There were boxes everywhere.

He smelt blood.

His stomach dropped. 

He didn’t even know your name. 

He couldn’t even ask about you. 

Jack Abbot wished he weren’t a good man. 

He wished he had pushed for more.

So many regrets.

So little time. 

And just like mist, you disappeared again.