popcornpoppypop

[popcornpoppypop]

At The End Of The Day

Summary: Kit and Robby deal with having a newborn in the house. Robby notices changes with Kit. He'll keep her from drowning, no matter what.

Warnings: Postpartum depression, intrusive thoughts, bad moms, talks of birth

A/N: I have never had a baby nor postpartum. I did a lot of research for this one. I feel like there are a lot of fics that just end with the happy family and wanted to sprinkle a little reality in there. This is The Pitt after all.

The moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the bed and its inhabitants. The Robinavitch house was quiet; everyone was sleeping soundly. Michael and Kit were tangled in each other’s arms, Hawkeye snoring at their feet.

A cry crackles through the baby monitor on the nightstand.

The two stirred, Michael sitting up out of instinct and practically still unconscious. Kit groaned as she rolled over, pushing herself up.

“I got her.” Robby murmured.

“She needs to be fed.” Kit groaned.

“We have bottles in the fridge. Sleep.” He cleared his throat.

“And let my tits leak all over myself for no goddamn reason? Brilliant.” Kit snapped as she padded out of the room. Robby felt like he had whiplash, unsure what had just happened.

She’s tired, he thought. They both were. It had been only a week since they had brought Abby home. For the most part, they had adjusted. It was, however, evident that Kit was starting to feel the toll of their new responsibilities more than he was.

He got up and went to the nursery. He stood silent in the doorway, watching Kit. She sat in the rocking chair, the baby held to her breast. The shadows hid her face, the silhouette was still enough to take Robby’s breath away. He never would get used to the sight, something so intimate and beautiful about it. He had to choke back tears every time he saw her feed their baby.

The sound of sniffling made him tip his head in confusion.

He cleared his throat, a small warning that there was another person near, as he walked toward her.

Kit was in her own world, the baby suckling and her head bowed. She didn’t care that Robby was there.

He knelt in front of her, her face clearer, as were the tears falling down her cheeks. It took him by surprise.

“Kit?” His voice soft, afraid of startling her.

“Don’t.” She whispered. “I can’t do this right now.” Her voice was small and fragile.

“Alright. I’ll sit here then, that okay?” Robby put his hands on her knees. She nodded. They sat together in the moonlight as the baby finished feeding. Kit put Abby back in her crib, the baby settling back down.

Robby came up behind her, running his hands up and down her arms. The feeling had always calmed Kit, it was a small gesture that had saved her time and time again. Not this time. In this moment, it was closer to a cheese grater against her skin.

“Stop.” She bit and stomped off, back to the bedroom.

Robby stood staring at the doorway that Kit had just left through, a strange, dejected feeling washing over him.

The sun was streaming through the window, it beat against Kit’s eyelids. She groaned as she sat up. She looked over to see that Robby had woken up already.

The smell of coffee and food felt like a warm hug as she walked into the kitchen. Robby stood over the stove, the baby in her rocker on the floor near him. He looked up at the sound of Kit entering.

“Decaf is ready when you want it.” He smiled

“Great.” Kit forced a smile, he could tell.

“Do you want some eggs? I know they are hit or miss for you.” He observed her as she made her coffee. It was clinical more than romantic.

“That’s fine.” She shrugged.

“I can make something else, if you want.”

“That’s dumb, you’re already doing eggs, just make the damn eggs.” She sighed as she walked over to the table and set her mug down.

“O-kay.” Robby felt himself getting frustrated and did his best to stamp it out.

“When did she eat last?” Kit sipped her coffee.

“About an hour ago. She’s okay.” He smiled down at the baby as she gurgled in her rocker.

“Did you change her?”

“Yes. Honey, I’ve got her taken care of. Don’t worry about her right now.” He put the plate of eggs in front of her.

“Don’t be so patronizing. I’m just checking on my daughter.” Kit snapped.

“That’s not fair.” Robby looked down at her, his annoyance evident.

“Whatever.” She sighed. The baby started crying in her rocker. Kit moved to get up but Robby gestured for her to sit down. He gathered the baby up in his arms and cooed for her to settle.

“We’re going to go and play in the living room so you can have your breakfast.” Robby sighed as he walked off.

The day went on and Kit couldn’t shake the cloud over her head. Robby did his best to keep everything light.

Kit was sitting on the couch, watching some nonsense on the TV, Abby was lying on Robby’s chest. She watched as he rubbed gentle circles on her back. A thought flashed across her mind. It was terrifying and came out of nowhere.

He’s going to take her from you and you won’t care.

Kit shook her head, the tears burning her eyes.

He’s going to take her and you won’t see her again and you’ll be relieved.

She felt her chest tighten.

He’s going to take her because he knows what a bad mother you are, what a bad person you are.

She sat up straight in her seat, her hands rubbing up and down her thighs and breath picking up.

You’ll be so relieved when they aren’t here and you’ll get the confirmation that you’re no better than your mother.

Kit jumped up and rushed over to them.

“Give her to me.” She said, her voice panicked and shaky. She pried the baby off his chest.

“Kit, what the hell?” Robby looked up at her furious and confused.

“She’s my baby too. I’m allowed to hold her.” She snapped as she rushed out of the room. It was the first time Robby didn’t recognize his wife.

The tensions only grew worse over the next few weeks. Robby did his best to be understanding. He tried to give her space and let her work through whatever was going on.

“Can you just clean up after yourself, honestly!” Kit snapped as she tossed Robby’s coffee mug into the dishwasher that he had left in the sink.

“Kit, I put it down for a second. I was going back for it.” His shoulders were tensed.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Kit scoffed.

“I’m tired of this. Can you tell me what I can do right?” Robby snapped.

“Don’t yell at me.”

“You don’t stop yelling at me and I have no idea what is happening!” Robby through his hands in the air.

“Just leave me alone, right now.” Kit hissed.

“Right. I’ll just go spend every waking moment with our baby that can’t hold a conversation yet. Fine.” He knew he shouldn’t have said it. But he did it anyway.

“If you don’t want to spend time with your daughter, why did you knock me up then!?” Kit barked.

“I’m not doing this.” Robby turned and stomped off.

Robby was at his wits end. He was trying so hard to help her. Any time he broached the subject, Kit brushed him off or bit his head off.

Kit could feel herself slipping away. She felt herself turning into something different. It was dark and heavy and she couldn’t figure out how to fight it. She knew that this wasn’t rare, but she didn’t think it would happen to her.

The late nights and early mornings were getting to her. She just needed some sleep, she told herself.

She stood rocking the baby in the living room, standing by the window to get some sunlight. Abby was cooing and wriggling in her arms. Kit watched her face scrunch up and test it’s flexibility. She should be enthralled, Kit thought. But she was indifferent.

Robby walked into the room, watching her stare down at Abby. The look on her face was disconcerting. He walked up behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“She’s getting so animated with her face.” He hummed.

“She’s supposed to by now.” Kit’s voice was monotone.

“It’s fun to watch it happen, though.” Robby rubbed her shoulder.

“I need a shower.” Kit passed the baby off to him.  

“Kit?” Robby called after her.

“What?” She snapped.

“I know it’s hard. But you’re doing really well.” Robby smiled. Kit watched him for a long, silent moment. Tears pricked behind her eyes. She shook her head and left.

The baby monitor crackled with soft sounds that lulled Robby awake. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked over to find himself alone in the bed. He was going to roll over and sleep when he heard the sounds again. It was soft, but the sobs of his wife had him up and out of the bedroom quick.

He walked into the nursery to find Kit in her rocking chair, the baby nursing in her arms. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed.

“Kitty, what’s wrong?” Robby fumbled his way over to her. “Is it painful? I can get that massage thing.” He moved to get up but Kit grabbed his wrist.

“I can’t do this, Michael.” She sobbed.

“What are you talking about?” Robby knelt down in front of her.

“I can’t…it’s too much. I might…I might hate her. I don’t want to hate her.” Kit sobbed. Robby’s heart stopped in his chest. The pain she’d been keeping to herself to spare them was breaking her.

“Honey. When…when did this start?” He brushed a stray hair from her face.

“I don’t know. I just keep having these thoughts, horrible thoughts. I hate who I am. It’s miserable.” Kit sobbed. The baby finished feeding and Robby took her and settled her in her crib.

“It’s okay. This happens. Everyone has scary thoughts, it doesn’t mean you hate her.” Robby put his hands on her knees.

“I-I’m turning into my mother.” Kit cried. Robby wrapped her up in his arms, kissing her head.

“You are not your mother. You’re not. We’re going to get through this. You just need some help. We’ll figure this out.” He promised and Kit sobbed, her hands clawing at his shirt, desperate for escape.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” her voice was raw. She wasn’t sure who she was apologizing to at this point. Maybe Robby, maybe the baby or perhaps herself.

“Shhh. You’re okay. You don’t need to apologize.” Robby held her tight to his chest. “Let’s go to bed. You need some sleep.” He pulled her to her feet, guiding her back to their bed. Her emotions taking their toll caused her to pass out the second her head hit the pillow.

Robby sat up all night looking up the best ways to help and the best therapists in Pittsburgh. He sent emails, pulling on every favor owed to him to get her in somewhere.

Dr. Robinavitch,

I’m sorry to hear of your wife’s struggles. This is very common and, unfortunately, rarely discussed. I want to ease some potential grief that you’re feeling and let you know that it’s hard to differentiate the signs of postpartum from exhaustion; you didn’t miss anything.

I would be more than willing to see Katherine this week. I understand the urgency this case has for you. I have personally dealt with postpartum myself and can understand how quickly it can escalate. If she is willing to come on Thursday, I have an opening at 1pm. I will tentatively schedule it for her.

Please let her know that this isn’t a failure or defect in her. That’s the most important thing you can do for her.

Sincerely,

Dr. Joanna Groff.

The morning light was harsh, unwelcome this morning. It felt nagging. Kit rolled over to find the bed empty. She groaned as she got up, her tits hurt, her head hurt, her body ached. She thought she would start to feel better once Abby was born, but she felt worse than ever.

She walked to the nursery, pulling her robe close to her to fight the cool air. She stood in the doorway, watching Robby hold their daughter. His big arms enveloped her tiny body. She looked so small in his embrace.

“Mama is so good to you. We just need to help her a little. We’re going to take care of her just like she takes care of us.” He hummed to the baby, bringing her close and kissing her soft hair.

Kit’s chest tightened and twisted. She felt so much from those words. She wanted to revel in the beauty of them. She wanted to be comforted by his care. But she couldn’t fight the feeling of failure. She couldn’t stop her mind from spiraling and her mother’s words ringing in her head.

“You think you can do better? Please! You’re no better than me, you’re just like me.”

She couldn’t stifle the sob. It echoed into the nursery. Robby whipped around, surprised to see her and the tears streaming down her face. He put the baby down and gathered her up in his arms.

“You’re okay.” He murmured into her hair.

“I’m just like her.” She whispered.

“Nope, not even a little. Come here,” Robby pulled her to the living room and sat her on the couch. He knelt in front of her, holding her face in his hands.

“She told me that I was no better than her, the day Abby was born. I fought her, but maybe she was right.” Kit shook her head.

“No, she’s never been right about you. Kitty, you are so much more than your mother could ever be.” Robby brushed the tears from her cheeks.

“I know you think you’re failing right now, but you’re not. Your mother would never be this upset; she wouldn’t care the way you do. You care so much, it’s too much for you right now. That’s okay. I’m not letting you drown.” He told her, holding her shaking hands in his.

“What if I can’t get out of this?” She couldn’t look at him.

“I’m not letting that happen. I pulled some favors, I got you in with Dr. Groff. She’s the best in the state. She’s gone through this too, she’s going to help us. I’m getting you whatever you need, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.” She shook her head; her body couldn’t stop shaking.

“I love you so much.” He wrapped her up in his arms, Kit clung on to him for dear life.

Kit hadn’t realized it until she was in the parking lot of Dr. Groff’s office, but that was the first time she had left the house for herself since Abby was born. The world felt foreign, scarier. Her hands shook as she opened the car door and made her way inside.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The receptionist’s bright smile didn’t help Kit’s nerves.

“I have an appointment at 1 pm with Dr. Groff. Should be under Robinavitch.” She cleared her throat.

“Of Course. She’s finishing up with her last appointment. I’ll let you know when she’s ready.” Kit nodded and sat in the plastic cushioned chair. The waiting room was sterile. The pictures on the wall were stock photos of plants. The magazines on the side table taunted her with headlines like; How to relearn self-love, 6 ways to a happier mindset, You steer the ship: how to take control of your decisions.

“Mrs. Robinavitch, she’s ready.” The Receptionist smiled. She got up and walked into the office. She was shocked to see how different Dr. Groff’s office was from the waiting room. There was a colorful rug on the floor, the furniture was soft and pillowy, and the walls were covered in beautiful art. There was a warmth to it.

“Mrs. Robinavtich, have a seat.” The woman was in her mid-fifties, her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. Her clothes were loose and airy. Her top was an earthy green and her pants a deep maroon. Her glasses sat on the tip of her nose, just above a kind smile.

“It’s Dr. Robinavitch, actually.” Kit cleared her throat as she sat on the couch.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were both doctors. I’ll make a note of that in your file.” She nodded as she scribbled something on her notebook.

“It gets confusing. Katherine is fine.” Her body was tense, and she was trying to make herself as small as possible.

“I bet. What is your specialty?”

“EM, like Michael. Same department at PTMC. I just go by Dr. R and he’s Dr. Robby. Still causes some confusion with the med students.”

“Well, it’s not hard to confuse them.” Groff chuckled.

“True.”

“Shall we get down to it?” Groff gave a soft smile, trying to encourage Kit.

“I guess. I’m not sure where to start?” Kit gave a nervous laugh.

“Wherever feels most comfortable for now.”

“Right.” Kit bit at her nails. “I guess, I started having these…thoughts about a week after Abby was born.”

“Abby is your daughter?”

“Yes. Abigail.”

“That’s a nice name. After anyone?”

“Michael’s grandmother. She raised him, it meant a lot to him.”

“What a wonderful memorial. How old is Abby?”

“She’s five weeks.”

“How long is your maternity leave?”

“Eleven weeks. Michael’s paternity leave is only eight.”

“So, he’ll be going back soon. That’s scary.”

“I guess. It’ll be different.”

“Do you want to tell me about your thoughts?”

“Want to? No. But I have to, I think.”

“Why do you have to?”

“Because they’re eating me alive and I feel like Michael just can’t understand. He tries, believe me. He’s a man at the end of the day.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well…he didn’t go through all of it, physically. I had carried her, I was so sick. The worst morning sickness, almost had to be hospitalized. But I never cared. I loved her so much from the moment I found out I was pregnant. Then I went through labor and birth, it was so hard.”

“Was it a traumatic birth?”

“No. Not any more than usual.”

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“All birth is trauma. It’s your insides being ripped apart. It’s your body changing violently against your will. It’s your child being ripped from you. It’s pain and fear and violence and too many emotions.”

“Some women find it to be beautiful. You don’t feel that way?”

“No. I don’t. There were moments during labor, at least. Michael holding me and keeping me safe. It was nice when we talked about the future. But once it reached a point when it was relentless, it wasn’t beautiful.”

“What about when you saw her for the first time?”

“I was scared.”

“Why?”

“Well, she didn’t cry at first. The doctor and nurses had to help her and she wasn’t on my chest like all the other mothers talked about. I thought something was wrong. I couldn’t move to help; I was in so much pain. But I was too scared to move.”

“That would be terrifying. But she was okay.”

“Yeah, it only lasted 20 seconds. They put her in my arms, and she was so beautiful. I loved her so much. But…” Kit couldn’t get the words out.

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

“I’ve never even told Michael this.” Her hands were shaking again.

“I’m not Michael. Everything you say to me stays with me.”

“I know. It’s a lot to say out loud.”

“I think you need to say it out loud.”

“When they put her in my arms, after a minute, I wasn’t interested in her at all. I wanted to push her off of me.” Kit couldn’t stop the sobs. Groff handed her a box of tissues.

“Katherine. It’s normal. Everything you’re feeling is normal.”

“I faked it. Every time someone came in the room, I plastered a smile on my face and pretended like I was beside myself with joy. But I was drowning and couldn’t find the words.”

“We’re going to find the words here, together.”

“I love her. I know I do. But I might hate her too.”

“Why do you think you hate her?”

“She cries and my body just gets so tense it hurts. I hold her and look at her, and half my brain thinks she is so beautiful, and the other half is annoyed at her presence. Sometimes, it’s just disinterest.”

“Katherine, what you’re feeling is just normal emotions. Do you have violent thoughts?”

“No. But…Michael was holding her once, and I thought how much better he was at this than me. How he was going to realize I’m a bad mother and leave, and I’d be relieved.”

“I see.”

“I’m crazy.”

“No one is crazy. You are exceptionally normal, I’m afraid.”

“I get it from my mother.”

“Tell me about your mother?”

“She hates me. She’s told me. She had kids because she thought she had to, not because she wanted to. Every time we talk, she tells me how disappointed in me she is. She doesn’t like my life.”

“How did your mother react when you told her you were pregnant?”

“She laughed at me, told me that I wasn’t mother material.”

“That must have hurt.”

“Yeah, but I’m used to it.”

“What do you do when your mother says these things to you?”

“I tell Michael. He counters her, talks me off the figurative ledge. Most of the time, her words just annoy me. I don’t hold much importance to them.”

“Okay. I want you to try something for me this week. When you have these thoughts that upset you, that feel bad, I want you to tell them to Michael like it’s your mother saying them. Take those thoughts and put them into your mother’s voice. Take the importance away from them, like you do with your mother. Do you think we can try that?”

“I can try.”

“You took a big step today, Katherine. It was a lot, you’re going to be tired. It’s okay. You need rest. Let yourself rest. Be kind to yourself as we figure this out. Healing is not linear; there will be good days and bad days. I want us to meet once a week for now. I’m going to keep this time for you.”

“Okay. Thank you. Thank you.” Kit wiped the tears from her face.

“I’m here if you need me. I’ll see you next week.” Groff smiled.

Kit sat in the driveway for a while. She lost track of time. Her mind felt lighter than it had in weeks, months, even. She took a deep breath before she moved to go into the house.

Michael was cooking, humming to the soft music playing, Abby strapped to his chest. He hadn’t heard her come in yet. She stood in the doorway, letting the sight sink in.

“You look good like that.” She smiled. Michael jumped, looking at her and softening as he saw how relaxed she looked, how she looked more like herself.

“Back at you.” He hummed. Kit walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around him and the baby.

“Thank you.” She kissed his shoulder.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing what’s needed.” He said as he stirred the pasta sauce.

“I know. But some men would have just let me drown. You didn’t. You took care of me, even when I didn’t make it easy.” She buried her face in his back.

“I’ll do whatever you need, Kitty. You are the love of my life. You’re my wife. You and Abby are all that matter.” He turned around and held her face in his hands.

“You’re all that matters.”  She pulled him down into a deep kiss. Abby started fussing between them.

“Valid, we were squishing you. Sorry, Babygirl.” He laughed and kissed her little head.

“After dinner, I need to tell you some things about therapy.”

“Big things?”

“Heavy, yeah.”

“Alright. Food, then feelings.” He kissed her cheek.

[popcornpoppypop]

Snippet Saturday!

Haven't fed you guys in a while, I'm sorry! I've been fighting my muses and attention span. It's a bloody battle. Here's a snippet of my POTS fic that I'm finishing up. I don't have a title yet, I usually come up with those once it's finished. I've stopped doing a lot of X Reader fics, I just find it limits my language style a bit. Does that bother anybody? I still leave the descriptions vague, avoiding physical descriptors if I can to make up for it. Let me know!

“I just need a second.” Olivia started trying to get out of bed. Robby pushed her back down onto the bed.

“Nope. You need to relax for a minute.” He told her.

“Laying down isn’t great for me right now.”

“Okay, sit, but stay off your feet.” He scolded as he got the glucometer prepped.

“Come on. No. I don’t need that.” She crossed her arms.

“Don’t be stubborn. POTS patients can experience hypoglycemia. You know that. Humor me.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Fine.” She growled, flopping her hand out to him.

“Thank you.” He swabbed her finger with alcohol and pricked it, letting the stick fill with blood.

“I haven’t passed out in so long.” Olivia shook her head.

“Stress can make things worse.” Robby pulled his glasses out to read the glucometer.

“I haven’t had any more stress than usual.”  

“You’re a senior resident. Your life is stress.” He snorted. He turned the glucometer to show her. “70. You just earned yourself monitoring and a sandwich.”

“Fuck.” Olivia cursed.

“Hey, just let us take care of you. Any preferences?”

“Same as Earl.”

“No egg salad, got it.” He smiled as he left the room.

[popcornpoppypop]

man I told myself I wouldn’t comment on this situation but damn I have seen SO MANY takes about how they should recast heather collins and/or should have recast her when they fired her.

first of all, we don’t actually know when (or why) they let her go. we can make inferences and informed guesses, but we won’t know unless they tell us. and second of all. no. no no no no no. all that does is send the message that black women are interchangeable. it would just create discourse of a different flavor.

[popcornpoppypop]

So… this is disappointing. Maybe a T.R. Knight/Isaiah Washington situation accrued.

It seems weird. The timing feels weird. They were talking like she was part of it for so long. She was doing panels with everyone, idk. Now I’m starting to feel like something went down.

anyway that lasted abt 10 seconds um

https://x.com/holdenfordfocus/status/1943465745012396336?s=46

content warning for the links: homophobia, pro-life advocacy, and religious fundamentalism.

there are credible receipts that tracy ifeachor belongs to a homophobic, pro-conversion therapy church that's pretty big among african immigrant communities in england. i'm not going to go any further into this but i know people who have been traumatized by this church and this pastor particularly. i really hope she finds her way out soon.

link 1

link 2

[popcornpoppypop]

it’s fine Heather is just having a well needed vacation from work for Fourth of July and she’ll be back for season 3

[popcornpoppypop]

i think a lot of the pitt fandom missed this this morning but tracy has been cast in the new m. night shyamalan movie! that's why she can't do season 2. there isn't some grand conspiracy and it's her choice as the actress to agree to do one project knowing she will have to miss out on another. the film industry and contracts can get pretty complicated and there's no reason to think that both parties did not part amicably

[popcornpoppypop]

Okay. Deep breath. All reactions are valid. I had been thinking about how they’re going to move forward for a while. I kind of thought that, with the nature of the show and how it’s done in one day, they may rotate cast. I think multiple things are at play, Tracy is amazing and got booked for something she really wanted being one of them. I also think they are going to bring her back in future seasons. I think we need to be prepared for there to be rotation in the casting. Robby is the main character. That will shift over time most likely. But the story they are setting up right now is Robby’s. That’s how it started so I’m surprised people are upset about that, seeing as that was what was going on from the beginning. Let’s all be kind to each other and the cast and creators. Let’s keep in mind they have a plan and information we are not privy to. Deep breaths and no bullying.

[popcornpoppypop]

Hello, hope you are doing ok. I saw your ask about what next and I would LOVE to see you write about reader either,

Being epileptic

Being diabetic

Or having a severe asthma attack

All of they being either Jack or Robby’s partner thank you so much if you take your time to write about any of these things. 🫶🏻

I do have a sort of series with a character who has epilepsy. The fics Done For and The Old Man and the Time Bomb deal with epilepsy, if you want to check those out!

[popcornpoppypop]

Hey ya’ll! I’ve got a story I’m working on with a POTS reader, but wanted to see what you all wanted to see next?

Also! I see all of the comments and things you leave and the fuel me but I get too embarrassed to reply a lot of the time. I love them. I appreciate them. I’m weird.

Let me know what y’all are craving!

[popcornpoppypop]

WRITING RESOURCES

The Pitt edition

The Pitt resources

The Pitt episodes transcripts

The Pitt wiki : the PTMC

The Pitt wiki : doctors

The Pitt wiki : nurses

The Pitt wiki : other staff

The Pitt wiki : patients

The Pitt wiki : patients' visitors

The Pitt timeline

Official floor plan of The Pitt

The Pitt hospital staff scrubs

Catalogue of stethoscopes in the Pitt

Medical resources

Glasgow Coma Scale (GCS)

Top reasons people visit the ER

Reasons for immediate admission

List of ER medical procedures

Procedures allowed for Med Students

Emergency medicine

r/emergencymedicine (be respectful)

EM attending : work schedule

EM attending : call shifts

EM attending : shifts per month

EM attending : 12 12-hour shifts

EM attending & residents on staff

Medical school / Residency / Fellowship

Med Student & Residency system

EM Residency curriculum (UF Health)

EM Fellowship programs (John Hopkins)

EM Fellowship programs (UF Health)

EM Fellowships : SCC vs CCM

Pittsburgh

Pittsburgh's neighborhoods map

Pittsburgh summer festivals & events

Covid data

COVID-19 Deaths (graph)

COVID-19 pandemic in the US

COVID-19 vaccination in the US

Abbot resources

US army medical scholarship

USU medical school

Kosovo War (1998-1999)

War in Afghanistan (2001-2021)

Iraq War (2003-2011)

Improvised explosive device (IED)

Combat support hospital

Misc

Hospital handling of staff's substance abuse

With links to some amazing posts by @cowardlycandy, @overtea, @renkyol and @sergeant-angels-trashcan

POST WILL BE UPDATED AS I FIND NEW INFORMATION

[popcornpoppypop]

Desperation

Summary: She and Jack receive the worst news. They hold each other, what else is there to do?

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader: no use of y/n

Warnings: Illusions to death (no one actually dies), illusions to serious illness like cancer.

A/N: I had a menty B last night and I've been in a bad depression for a few days. I'm angsty to say the least. Anyway, this is the result of that. It just kind of spewed out of me. I don't know.

The drive home is quiet. A silence that makes your skin ache and chest crack under the weight of it. She focuses on the road. Her elbow propped on the window base, her head leaning into her hand. Her other arm folded in her lap. She can see the road, but the tears make it difficult.

He reaches over, his fingers gently grazing the skin of her forearm, reaching for her, reaching out to keep her here. He was desperate for the reassurance that she wasn’t slipping away.

“Love…” His voice pulls at the edges of her consciousness. She registers his touch and allows him to pull her arm out. He intertwines their fingers, locking their souls together.

She can’t think about it. If she does, she’ll lose it and crash the car. She’ll break when they park in the driveway.

“Love…” He pulls again, needing to hear her voice.

“I can’t.” She hums. Her voice scratches her throat, feeling harsher than it ever had.

“Okay.” He rubs his thumb across the lines of her palm, tracing them, memorizing them.

The silence holds them tight, constricting and crushing. The tension builds up their spines. He shifts in his seat, used to the sensation and how to be comfortable with it. She tightens, her shoulders hunching as it creeps up, forcing her into unnatural positions.

She parks the car in the driveway.

They sit.

“Love.”

“I can’t.”

“Okay.”

She jumps out of the car like it’s on fire. She marches into their home, leaving the door open for him to follow. Of course, he follows. He’d follow her to the ends of the earth. There wasn’t anywhere she went that he wouldn’t be right behind her.

She doesn’t realize it, but she’s running from it, running from the emotion. She makes it to the doorway of the living room before her knees give out.  She crumbles like stone to the floor, her chest heaving with each sob. Her voice clawing at her throat as she cries.

He falls next to her, wrapping his arms around her as if they could shield her from everything. He doesn’t say anything; words couldn’t cure anything in this moment. His arms around her were the only salve he could offer her that was worth anything.

She wraps herself around him, clinging to him. Her hands grasp at him like he could be the only thing to save her.

“Breathe.” He hums into her hair.

“I can’t!”

“You can.”

“I don’t want to!”

“I know.”

He rocks them back and forth, the motion soothing to him if nothing else. He took a deep breath, reveling in her scent: vanilla and lilac and coconut and sweat. He feels his throat tighten, the desperate need to keep her safe and happy making bile form in his throat.

“I won’t lose you!” She screams.

“You won’t.” He promises. He promises, knowing he can’t guarantee it. He promises for her sake. He promises as a goal, something to fight to keep.

“You’re everything, Jack!” She pulls away just enough to look him in the eyes. His eyes stole her heart before he’d ever even opened his mouth. He looked at her across the purgatory of a crowded conference hall and hypnotized her.

“For you. I’m everything for you.” He held her face in his hands. He felt something new, something dangerous in his gut. A resolution. A calm acceptance of his fate. He would fight for her. But if he died fighting for her, there was no more honorable death.

“I don’t want to live without you.” Her voice stuttered as the air fought to enter her lungs. She ran her finger through his grey locks. They still had a tinge of auburn clinging on.

He closed his eyes, leaning into the feeling, committing it to memory. He was logging it all in his mind as if, should he be so lucky, in the afterlife, he could hold onto all of it.

“You can, though. I know you can.” He smiled. Her heart shattered. He should have stabbed her in the sternum; it would have hurt less, she thought.

“Jack.” Her lip trembled. His world shook.

“I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. I’ll love you when I’m not here anymore. I’ll love you if there’s more after this. I love you.” He prays. The words taste sweet on his lips, dripping with sugary adoration. He used to hope there was nothing after this life. Now, he found himself begging for more, for her.

“I love you. I can’t…”

“It’s okay.”

“What do I do?”

“What you can.”

“I’m nothing without you.”

“You are so much more than I could dream of. With or without me.”

“Jack…Promise me you’ll try. You’ll fight.” She holds his face in her hands. Her world in her hands. His scruff scratches her palm; the rough hair she used to beg him to shave was now so important to her.

“I’ll fight for you, always.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles. She forces a smile.

Her smile.

He’d go to war for her smile.

Kill a thousand men for her smile.

Lay himself bare for her smile.

“We still have time.” She takes a breath. The air feels different in her lungs. Suddenly, everything feels off.

“All the time in the world.” He nods, pulling her close. His lips caress hers, slow and desperate. Memorizing. He’ll memorize every inch of her, every breath from her, every sound she makes. He’ll remember it all.

[popcornpoppypop]

the way you return - jack abbot x reader

summary: jack comes home from a long shift, glad to see his wife

jack gets home late.

the kind of late that smells like antiseptic, forgotten coffee and another patient who didn’t make it. his coat is half-off when he enters the house, keys in one hand, phone tucked under his arm, his shoulders heavy from the kind of day he doesn’t talk about until you ask twice.

but the second he sees you barefoot in the kitchen, hair up, skin glowing with sleep and candlelight his whole body shifts.

not visibly. but you know the way his jaw unclenches, the way his hands stop curling into themselves, the way his eyes soften.

“hey,” he says, voice low, hoarse.

you cross the kitchen to him, fingers already reaching for the zipper of his jacket.

“hey yourself.”

he leans in, forehead against yours, and for a few quiet seconds, it’s just the two of you, him breathing you in, you undoing his jacket slowly, like undressing your soldier returning from war.

“rough one?”

“yeah,” he murmurs. “too many cases. ICU’s full. had to tell a daughter her mom’s time was up.”

you nod. you don’t try to fix it. you just press a kiss under his jaw, feel the stubble, taste the tension.

“i’m here.”

He sighs, full-bodied. the kind of exhale that drops every weight to the floor. he slides his arms around you, pulling you in completely.

“you always are.”

later, you sit on the couch, your legs across his lap, his hand absentmindedly stroking your shin while he reads through surgical notes. you’re scrolling through your inbox your newest client wants a full rebranding strategy, and for once, the work lights you up instead of draining you.

he glances over your screen.

“you’re building an empire over there, huh?”

you smile brightly. “not all of us get to cut people open and be heroic before lunch.”

he puts his tablet down.

“oh, i’m very good at being heroic. only for strangers.” his hand finds your knee, warm and sure. “with you, I just want to be a man who comes home and makes your world quieter.”

you blink.

It’s the kind of sentence he says when he’s tired, unguarded, when he’s being honest.

you sit up and straddle his lap, hands sliding into his hair.

“you don’t make my world quieter.” you kiss the corner of his mouth. “you make it safer.”

jack closes his eyes for a second like he’s absorbing that. then opens them, sharp, golden, tired, in love.

“marry me.”

you laugh. a soft, startled sound.

“again?”

“no ring this time. no pressure. just marry me every day.” his voice drops, quiet and grave. “because every day you wake up next to me, I swear the world feels fixable.”

you kiss him fully this time, slow and deep. he groans against your lips, hands finding your waist like they know the shape of your ribs by memory.

you pull back just enough to whisper:

“okay, jack. i do, always and forever”

[popcornpoppypop]

You're a Good Man, Jack Abbot

Summary: Ashley suffers from Endometriosis and Ovarian Cysts. When she's having a bad flare-up on a day when her partner, Jack Abbot, is covering another department, she has to deal with dismissive doctors.

Warnings: Endometriosis, ovarian cysts, vomit, medical neglect, surgery

A/N: I thought I had posted this forever ago, but I guess I forgot. Anyway, enjoy some protective Jack "I stand ten toes on business" Abbot.

The pain had hit hard and fast, something that Ashley was familiar with. She had Endometriosis and ovarian cysts on top of that. She knew pain, it was a constant visitor. Tonight it was different, worsening to a point that she hadn’t dealt with. She was barely able to stand upright; that was the final straw. She tried to stay away from the hospital as much as possible. When she got serious with Dr. Jack Abbot, he made that more possible. He took care of her at home most of the time. He was currently on shift, helping cover in the ICU.

Ashley made her way slowly but surely to PTMC. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the staff, but she hadn’t hung out much with them. Being a social worker for foster children kept her pretty exhausted, her and Jack crashed most nights. When she walked in, Lupe clocked her immediately.

“Hey, girl what’s got you coming in?” She smiled.

“Hi, Lupe. I’m in a lot of pain. Not sure what’s going on.” Ashley gritted her teeth.

“Let’s get you back, Ash.” She buzzed the door open and Ashley hobbled her way back.

“Hey! Ash! Shit, you look bad.” Mateo greeted her as he brought a wheelchair towards her.

“I feel it.” Ashley groaned as she sat down.

“Did you let Abbot know you’re here?” He wheeled her over to a private room, knowing that when Abbot eventually found out she was here, there would be hell if she didn’t have her own room.

“Not yet. Wanted to see what was going on first.” Ashley got into the bed with Mateo’s assistance.

“Make sure you tell him that when he comes down. We all like our heads on our shoulders down here.” Mateo chuckled.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll protect you guys from big, bad Dr. Abbot.” Ashley laughed but was overcome with pain and bent over in pain.

“Whoa, take it easy. I’ll dial down the charm for you, no more laughing.” Mateo put the monitoring leads on her. “Vitals all normal, heart rate is a bit high but not bad. You’re probably getting one of the interns tonight, just so you know.” Mateo gave her an apologetic look and shrugged.

“Well, they gotta learn some time, I guess.” She sighed. She had a hard enough time getting regular doctors to listen to her, let alone students.

“We’ll do our best to keep an eye on them. Let me know if you need anything.” Mateo sauntered off for his next patient.

Ashely couldn’t get comfortable at all. She flipped and flopped and turned in every direction, nothing helped.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Whitaker. I’ll be taking care of you today.” A young, blonde boy walked in. Ashley was already unamused.

“Hi. Can I get something to help with the pain? It’s getting worse.” She winced.

“Once I do my exam, we’ll discuss options.” He gave a thin-lipped smile that she recognized as disbelief.

“Yeah, sure.”

“What’s going on today?”  He gloved up and started looking over her body.

“I have endometriosis and ovarian cysts, so I thought it was just a flare-up. But the pain is worse than it’s ever been. It keeps getting worse and none of my regular remedies are doing anything.” Ashley yelped as Whitaker pressed on her abdomen.

“Okay, well I’ll order some blood tests. But I think you’re right, it’s just a flare-up and there isn’t much to do.” He nodded.

“No, this isn’t what my flare-ups feel like. Something is wrong.”

“Well, let’s get the blood going and we’ll go from there.”

“I want an ultrasound at least.” Ashley groaned.

“I don’t think that’s necessary at this point. I’ll have Mateo bring you in some Tylenol.” He nodded and left. Ashley groaned in frustration. She was about to text Jack when a wave of pain made her double over and drop her phone. She knew she couldn’t get out of bed to grab it. The call button was nowhere to be found, wrapped on some far-off piece of equipment.

She felt the bile building up in her throat; she fought it as hard as she could, but another crash of pain made her vomit over the side of the bed.

“Okay, Ash- oh shit!” Mateo came running over to help her sit back up and wiped her mouth.

“S-sorry.” She whined through the pain.

“No, nothing to be sorry for. Damn, this is bad.” Mateo cleaned up the mess and saw how sweaty and pale she had become.

“Mateo…call Jack…Please…” She choked out, pointing to her phone. Mateo ran over and brought it to her. She unlocked it and handed it back. “Can’t…talk…hurts…” She cried.

“Okay, okay. I got you. I thought Whitaker had more brain cells than this.” Mateo grumbled as he hit Jack’s contact.

“Hey, Honey. I’m not getting off for a few more hours. What’s up?” Jack answered.

“Dr. Abbot, it’s Mateo-”

“Why the fuck are you on Ashely’s phone?” Jack’s voice was stern, angry and worried.

“She’s in the ED. She’s in a lot of pain. I think you should come down here.” Mateo handed Ashley an emesis bag.

“On my way.” Jack hung up the phone before anyone could reply.

“I’m getting Ellis until Abbot gets here. Tylenol ain’t gonna cut it.” Mateo ran out of the room. Ashley cried as the pain wracked her body, she began shaking.

“Oh shit. Yeah, Mateo let’s her some morphine, now.” Ellis came in, her blood ran cold at the sight of Ashley. She ran over and started assessing her.

“T-thank you…”

“I’m sorry, Ash. I’m ordering an ultrasound. We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Ellis said. The door flew open, and Jack came barreling in. “Jesus! Honey!” He took in the pale, shaking form of his girlfriend and was filled with worry and rage. He ran over to her, brushing the sweat-matted hair from her face.

“Got the morphine on board.” Mateo said as he came running in and administered the drug.

“What the hell is going on that she looks like this!?” Abbot barked.

“Whitaker was on the case. I thought he could handle it.” Ellis said, standing in wait for her dressing down.

“Clearly not! Mateo, get him in here. NOW!” Jack yelled.

“Grab the ultrasound for me, too,” Ellis instructed as Mateo did everything he could to not be in that room.

“I’m so sorry, Honey.” Jack held her shaking hand in his. “The morphine isn’t touching her. Fuck.” He started grinding his teeth.

“Dr. Abbot? Mateo said you wanted to see me?” Whitaker came in, the fear evident on his face.

“What the hell would possess you to give such half-assed treatment to a patient?” Jack growled.

“I-I did what I thought was best practice.”

“In what world is a woman pale, shaking in pain with her history being treated with Tylenol and blood work, no ultrasound, no imaging at all, best practice!?” Jack stood, his anger radiating off of him.

“I thought…I didn’t know your relationship.” Whitaker cleared his throat.

“Why does that matter? I want your reasoning for treatment.” Jack’s voice was low, controlled and dangerous. Ellis had her arms crossed and head bowed, knowing she would be next.

“I thought she was drug seeking.” Whitaker tried to sound confident. It fell flat. Jack marched over, toe to toe with the boy. Jack wasn’t a tall man, but he didn’t need to be; he knew how to make people feel small.

“You’re not to touch her, look at her, speak to her again. You are off her case. You will learn to treat people better, Dr. Whitaker.” Jack growled, his breath making Whitaker’s eyes water from the closeness.

“Dr. Abbot…I don’t think you can make that call with how close you are to the patient.” Whitaker was trying to stand his ground and it was not going well.

“Whitaker, stop talking.” Ellis snapped.

“The only cases you will have from now on are constipation and enemas. Until you can be trusted to properly treat pain and care for patients in distress, scut work.” Jack hissed. “Get out of my sight!” Whitaker ran out of the room.

“Got the ultrasound.” Mateo wheeled the machine in.

“I’ll deal with you in a minute.” He pointed to Ellis as he got the ultrasound ready.

“Mateo let’s up the morphine dose.” Ellis instructed.

“I got to put pressure on your belly, I’m sorry Baby.” Jack said as he pushed the wand across Ashley’s abdomen. She let out a cry as he moved it across her body. “Shit.” He sighed.

“Ovarian torsion. Dammit.” Ellis looked over Jack’s shoulder at the screen.

“You’re going to have to get surgery.” Jack said wiping the gel from her belly.

“Just make it stop.” She sobbed.

“I know, baby. I’m going to.” He kissed her forehead. “Call up, get Walsh to put her to the front of line. If she gives lip, tell her she can come down here and talk to me.” Jack told Mateo who nodded and scrambled out of the room.

“I thought he knew better. I should have been in the room with him.” Ellis shook her head.

“Where the fuck were you?” Jack sighed, crossing his arms as he turned to her.

“I had a febrile toddler.”

“Is that patient also being neglected now?”

“No, sir. She just had an ear infection.”

“Good.” Jack paced in front of her. “I expect more from you, Ellis. You’re better than this. You dropped the ball tonight. If I hadn’t been upstairs, what would have happened? If it wasn’t Mateo, who knows her history and keeps an eye on everyone, what the hell would have happened!?”

“I need to keep better track of my students. I’ll be making sure all treatment plans are run by me for approval from now on.” She nodded.

“That should have already been the standard! Your job is to teach AND supervise! Do better! Get out of here.” Jack sighed.

“Ashley, I’m so sorry.” Ellis sighed as she left.

Jack sat next to the bed, doing his best to console Ashley, knowing it was fruitless with the pain she was in.

“If I wasn’t in so much pain…I’d jump you right now. That was hot.” Ashley gave a weak smile.

“Oh yeah? Next time you drop off my coffee, I’ll make sure there’s an intern around to yell at.” Jack chuckled.

“No, you standing up for me when I couldn’t.”

“I’ll always do my best to take care of you.” He kissed her forehead. The door opened and Dr. Walsh came sauntering in.

“Abbot. Thought I’d come down and escort our VIP myself.” She said, her tone laced with sarcasm.

“You dare to mingle with us ED weirdos. You’re too kind.” Jack smirked.

“Ashley, let’s get you out of here so we can both get some peace and quiet.” Walsh nodded to the nurses to start wheeling her out of the room. “You’re not allowed in the OR. Just setting boundaries.”

“No. I couldn’t do that anyway.”

“Can’t handle it?”

“Not with her.” Jack said as he let go of her hand. “I’ll be waiting for you when you wake up.” He called after her.

Jack marched back into the Pitt, his anger not diminished. He saw Dr. Shen exiting the break room and zeroed in.

“Hey, Jack. Thought you were upstairs.” Shen’s smile started to fade as he realized the anger that was rushing toward him like a freight train.

“You are the attending tonight, yes?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“So, do you want to tell me how one of your interns ordered Tylenol and blood work for an ovarian torsion case? No pain management, no imaging.” Jack looked like a raging bull, puffing air out of his nose to try and keep his temper in check.

“What? We don’t have an ovarian torsion case-”

“Yes, you did! Ellis dropped the ball; you are supposed to pick it up. Where were you!?”

“I was just…I, um, making coffee.” Shen hung his head, knowing that was a stupid excuse.

“Coffee. Ashley was writhing in pain, and you were making coffee!?”

“Oh shit. It was Ashley? Jack, I didn’t know!” John put his hands up.

“I have given you grace for too damn long. Robby and I will be discussing how to rectify your lackadaisical attitude.” Jack growled as he turned and stomped off.

“Fuck.” John sighed. He was shaken, having never been yelled at like that by Abbot.

“That man is terrifying. Like, for real.” Mateo shook his head as he walked by. “Glad it wasn’t my head on the chopping block.” He laughed as he went back to his patients.

Jack did his best to get back to work, making sure the ICU was taken care of. His mind was in the operating room with Ashley.

“Jack, we’ve got everything taken care of. Ashley will be out of surgery soon. Go, we can cover the rest.” One of the ICU doctors came up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, okay.” They scoffed. “Well, I don’t need you and Gloria will have my ass if I keep a doctor overtime more than necessary. Go.” They pushed his shoulder toward the elevator.

“You’re a dick.” Jack smirked. “Fine. Thank you.” He nodded his gratitude and made his way up to the surgery floor.

Jack was never good at sitting in waiting rooms. He was used to being on the other side of the door, preferred it that way.  Luckily, at this time of night, or rather morning, no one else was there. He paced back and forth, his mind starting to take off with itself.

“You want to stop burning a hole in the tile, Abbot?” Walsh came through the doors.

“Everything okay?” Jack ran up to her.

“Who are you talking to? Of course, it went okay.” Walsh smirked. “She did fine during the surgery. We were able to repair the damage to the ovary and fallopian tube. I can’t guarantee there won’t be some troubles with it in the future if you two ever decide to procreate. God help us if you do.”

“Easy, Emery. I’m not my usual sunshiny self tonight.” Jack warned.

“Okay, okay. Since you are her medical proxy, I should also tell you that she’s going to need another surgery at some point. Jack, the endo was everywhere. I don’t know how that girl isn’t rolling around in pain every day.” Walsh shook her head. “I got out as much as I could but we went in laparoscopically. We weren’t prepared for it to be that much.”

“Fuck. She’s been having a harder time, but she never mentioned feeling that much worse.” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thank you.  Can I see her?”

“Yeah, she’s just waking up.” Walsh led him down the hall.

Jack tiptoed into the room, and Ashley was starting to blink awake. Her head lolling back and forth as she fought the remnants of anesthesia. Jack moved the chair closer to the bed and held her hand.

“Jack?” Ashley groaned, scrunching her face in discomfort.

“Hey, how you feeling?” He brushed the strands of hair from her forehead.

“Mmm…like they cut me open and flipped my insides around.” She sighed.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. How’s the pain?” Jack ran his hand up and down her arm, the sensation soothing to Ashley, grounding her and helping her wake up.

“S’okay. I’ve had worse.” She smiled up at him. “When can I go home?”

“We’ll send you home in about an hour. I trust Jack to make sure your taken care of at home.” Walsh nodded.

“Thank you, Dr. Walsh.”

“Ashley, the Endo is getting worse. There was a lot when I was in there. You need to let your provider know when it’s getting bad. There’s no reason for you to be in that much pain all the time. No more downplaying your symptoms.” Walsh warned.

“Okay. I promise.” Ashley nodded.

“I’ll have the nurse come in with discharge instructions in a bit.” Walsh made her way out of the room.

“She’s soft on you.” Jack chuckled.

“She has to be hard around you. She’s a woman in a man’s field. If she was soft downstairs, she wouldn’t hear the end of it.” Ashley tried to adjust but stopped as the pain pulled at her abdomen.

“Fair point.”

“How many people did you yell at downstairs? Are they all shaking in their boots?” She chuckled.

“The ones that deserved to be yelled at were dealt with.” He stated, not wanting to go further into detail. Ashley had a knack for making Jack feel bad for reprimanding his residents and interns.

“They’re still learning. I don’t think they’ll forget this lesson, though.” She chuckled. “I thought you were going to pop a blood vessel.”

“Seeing you like that made my blood run cold. I never want you to be in pain, but Jesus, Ash, you were so pale. I couldn’t stop the panic.” Jack shook his head. Ashley reached over and held his face in her hand.

“I’m okay. I’m here and I’m okay.” She told him, knowing that he had a hard time seeing her sick. It would, on occasion, cause his PTSD to act up. Jack leaned into her touch.

“There is no excuse for how they treated you. I don’t want this to happen to anyone else, especially if I’m not there to rectify it.” He took her hand, kissing the palm of it.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Jack leaned over to kiss her.

“Even if all of this means I can’t give you a family?” Ashley’s voice cracked. Walsh telling her that the endometriosis was getting worse, something she knew would happen, reminded her that it was a slim chance they would have.

“Ashley. I love you. You are my family. You are all I need, all I want. If we have a kid at some point, that’s great. But it’s not a caveat for my love. I’m fulfilled with you and our life.” He promised. Ashley pulled into a wet kiss, her tears streaking down her face.

“You’re a good man, Jack Abbot.”

“I try to be, for you.”

[popcornpoppypop]

I think it’s because they still get money from the Jurassic Park movies, no matter how shit they are. They passed on the ER reboot and now they see what could have been and how much better The Pitt is and they aren’t getting money. It’s all about money. HBO will pay them out most likely at some point and it’ll disappear. It was never about integrity or legacy.

It’s crazy to me that Michael Chrichton’s widow hates The Pitt and is suing Noah Wyle & Co. in an effort to get it canceled because she thinks it’s a rip off of her husband’s work (E.R.), but she is totally fine with what Hollywood has done to the integrity of the Jurassic Park franchise.

[popcornpoppypop]

Happy July 4th!! Make sure to leave out some Xanax and a cold one for Jack Abbot tonight!!

[popcornpoppypop]

Well, if you guys are ever wondering why my characters always seem to have crappy parents, especially shitty moms, it’s because I do! I have POTS, hEDS and PCOS. I don’t feel well often. I’m on my period right now and feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. My mom asked me how I was doing this morning (as a greeting, not actually interested) and I said I didn’t feel well. Immediately, pissed at me and snippy. Now I’m getting the silent treatment. So, I tend to try and find the comfort I crave in fictional characters. Anyway, expect a sappy, period/sick fic soon.

[popcornpoppypop]

i love fics where the entire pitt crew is at the bar because it’s like who did you leave in charge of the ED?? myrna?? the rats??