#tw depression

“You can’t accuse someone without evidence. Denying treatment plans does not always equate neglect. He is within his rights to refuse the medications.” Robby’s frustration wasn’t subtle and everyone who walked by the hallway he had dragged you into could see it.

“I’m not apologizing. I stand by what I said.” You crossed your arms in defiance.

“No one asked you to. You’d just make it worse. Go finish your charting and go home.” Robby snapped.

“I’m not going-”

“Do as you are told! Chart and go home! You’ve crossed a line and I have to figure out how to fix it!” Robby’s voice boomed throughout the ER. You were suddenly aware of everyone staring at you.

“I just have one to finish.” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you scurried off to find the computer furthest from everyone.

Robby let out an exasperated sigh as he dug out his phone.

Robby: Jack, you have to talk to them. Things are getting out of hand.

Jack: What happened?

Robby: They berated a patient about neglect over declining antibiotics.

Jack: That doesn’t sound too bad.

Robby: They called the dad an arrogant asshole in front of his kid.

Robby: She needs help. Help her or I’ll have to step in with Caleb.

Jack: I’ll try.

Jack groaned as he tossed his phone onto the mattress and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t know how to bring up your recent attitude change. He had watched you start to disappear a few weeks ago. He had chalked it up to periods or the change in the weather. But you never let your emotions affect your work. If Robby was concerned, things were bad.  

He heard the door slam and your heavy footsteps as you stomped through the house. He steadied himself for your arrival.  You stormed into the bedroom, a look of fury on your face. He stayed quiet as you undressed from your scrubs.

“Your bestie is a fucking dick.” You hissed, pulling on your sleep shorts.

“He texted me. Told me you snapped at a patient.” Jack watched your shoulders tense.

“He denied antibiotics for his kid! Of course I snapped!” You felt the anger and despair start to rise again.

“Robby gives you a lot of leeway because you’re a great doctor, but even he has limits. He has a point here.” Jack braced for the rage.

“You’re kidding. You’re siding with him!?” You looked at him shocked.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side. I’m just saying that you can’t explode at patients, even if they are being idiots.” Jack moved to sit at the end of the bed.

“Unbelievable.” You huffed.

“Baby, we need to talk. Will just sit down, please?” He reached over and grabbed your hips. You pushed his hands off.

“Don’t.” you warned.

“Please. Things can’t keep going like this.” He grumbled, getting frustrated.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You hissed.

“Tell me what’s going on? Something is happening, you’re not acting like this for no reason.” Jack didn’t know how to get through. He thought about calling Caleb and making him do it.

“Nothing is going on! I’m allowed to be upset when my patient isn’t getting the care they deserve!” You couldn’t believe you had to defend yourself.

“It’s not just today. You’ve been floating around the house like a ghost. You’re snapping at everyone and everything. You go to work and come home, shove food down your throat and go to bed. You don’t do anything you like anymore. I’m worried.” Jack sighed.

“You’re exaggerating.” You scoffed. You turned to walk off but Jack grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t walk off like that. We need to talk.” Jack was getting angry.

“You’re being ridiculous.” You snarled, ripping your wrist from his grip and moving toward the door.

“Don’t. You know the rule.” Jack warned.

You walked out of the room.

“Un-fucking-believable.” He growled. He fumbled with his crutches, his hands shaking with rage.

You were sat on the couch, flipping through the apps like they would give you the answer. You knew you shouldn’t have walked off, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“What the fuck is your problem!?” Jack yelled.

“Jack-”

“No! You know the rule! If I don’t have my leg on, you can’t storm out of the room. It’s not fair! You never break that rule, so you best have a good excuse!” Jack sat on the opposite end of the couch, slamming his crutches onto the ground.

“I…I’m….” You didn’t have words to describe what was going through your head. You didn’t have an answer. You hated whatever you were.

“When was the last time you took your meds?” Jack was seething. He knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“I ran out a month ago.” You admitted, your head hung.

“A month!? You stopped taking your SSRI cold turkey without telling your doctor!? Do you know that can cause permanent issues? Why the fuck would you do that!?” Jack was seeing red.

“I’m sorry! I thought I could do it! I’ve been on them for years. I thought maybe I’d made progress. But I’m stuck like this. I’m just a mess for the rest of my life.” You sobbed.

“Shit.” Jack sighed. Your tears were his kryptonite. “You need to talk to me about this stuff. I need to know. I could have helped you.”

“I don’t like being saved! It makes me feel weak.” You cried.

“It’s not being saved. It’s getting help. Everyone needs help. You help me all the time. This is no different.” Jack pulled you into his arms.

“I’m sorry. I embarrassed us both. I pissed everyone off.” You cried into his chest.

“Honey, I’m mostly worried that you were suffering for so long and I didn’t catch it. Being on meds for the rest of your life doesn’t make you weak. You know that, right?”

“I know. I just hate it.” You sighed.

“Yeah. I get that.” Jack rested his chin on your head.

“I’ll call my psychiatrist in the morning.” You held him tight.