Can I get a Baran Al-Hashimi x resident!reader sickfic? Maybe the reader is trying to work through a chest infection and she's been doing well with her inhaler, only for her to be stuck in an active trauma and can't get to it.
The reader stumbles out of the patient's room and nearly has to crawl to the hub to grab her inhaler coughing and gaging. She freaks out ALL her coworkers and she ends up in an er bed being personally looked after by Dr. Al-Hashimi herself?
A really cool metaphor of being all the air you need
Pairing: Baran Al Hashimi x Resident!Fem!Reader | WC: not THAT long | G Rated
A/N: ok so i didn't proof read it, y'all know english ain't my first language and medical inaccuracies may be written below. Enjoy!
It was cold, and gloomy, and you were starting to reconsider the idea of becoming a doctor by the hour 13 of your doble shift. You had to help out Parker, her third cousin or something wedding becoming the excuse your friend had given you along some dextrose puppy eyes and a bag of chips.
You gave another hit of your inhaler, basically collapsing on Dana's chair, maybe you should take something for your headache, also your neck hurted, your feet weren't doing much better, you wanted a nap, or a lobotomy, but you settled on pretending to movie watch with Baran on the sofa that night.
The sirens had you standing up before you noticed, gloves and gown on in less than a minute. The moment the paramedics pushed past the doors you began moving. "Male, late 30's. Industrial accident, fell from 5 meters into a pile of cement bags. We had trouble trying to intubate in scene. Coded on route but we brought him back"
"Not the best landing" Called Santos besides you, quickly joining in the inspection as you cough against your elbow. You could feel Abbot behind you, the man stubborn enough to refuse to go home even though his shift had ended a bit ago. He assigned you lead as you got into South 3. One of the new kids cut open his shirt, a nasty bruise beginning to form in his chest along side the uneven surface of what signaled heavily broken ribs.
It happens fast. Collapsed lung. Blood coughing. An awful wet cackling sound.
Abbot insists you do the chest tube. A cut, a violent push, blood drains out almost immediately.
You feel the tightness on your chest as you order a CT scan and X Rays, one of the younger kids ventilating the patient. You ask for Walsh or Garcia, whoever is in shift to come downstairs for a posible rib fixation.
"How are you doing, sir?" You searched for his eyes, the pain medicine doing its jobs, he only manages to give you a light thumbs up and a loopy smile.
You are securing the chest tube dressing by the time Walsh comes down.
"Another victim of schedule juggling, I see" Calls the surgeon as she appears into the trauma room. "I'm sure I saw you here a couple hours ago" You nod at her, your dry remark turning into a wheeze before you actually manage to give it.
You moved to the fill out the charting, "Ellis had a wedding" You barely managed to access the system when another fit of coughing hits you. "Fuck's sake"
"Seasonal flu? Didn't get your shot yet?" Emery says among talking with the patient, he is stable, on his way to get a fast track to surgery.
"Not yet, Perlah was going to give it to me after my shift" You wave her away as they roll the patient upstairs.
Patient was brought in at around 9.30 am, paramedics had-
You don't really know what got you first, the tunnel vision of the screen or the fresh fit of coughing, but soon enough you were crouching down, grabbing your chest.
"Doc are you okay?" Esme appears by your side, having come in to start cleaning the bloody mess you left behind. She crouches besides you and you hold onto her.
"Yes, is probably just early bronchitis, I-" You feel your airways close on themselves and start coughing again, trying to will the air in and out of your lungs. It's like breathing trough a wet chewed cardboard straw. Shit, you need your inhaler. You pat your pockets but it's not there, shit. Esme it's looking at you with a sort of urgency in her eyes that is not fitted for a woman so used to seeing gore.
"Kid, what do you need" You give her a poor version of signaling the movement of the inhaler, she understands quickly, bolting out the door.
You stand up amid the fit of coughing, your lips starting to get that weird hue of skin that happens when people can't enough air in. You are suffocating, just because you misplaced your inhaler, where? When was the last time...?
You basically trip on your feet as you get trough the doors of the trauma room, panic gripping your body among the quick lost of oxygen, you don't know what feeling is worse, wanting to throw up, faint or the fist you feel around your airways. You look up and your eyes meet Dana's, Esme by her side quickly speaking, the nurse's eyes widen and she sprints to your side, but you are first found by McKay, her arm circling your waist as she holds you a second before you legs give up, you all but sag in her arms. Vic is a second behind her, a wheelchair ready and you are carefully lowered to it.
"Someone prep an Albuterol neb!" Calls Dana and in a moment you are wheeled into a room, you manage to sit yourself on the stretcher, but it's not long before you hunch forwards with another cought, pushing at the mask in your face.
"I'm- fine- just my- inhaler" Someone tries to put the mask back on, but you push them away. They say doctors make the worst patients, don't they? Before Emma even manages to ask where your inhaler is you feel exhaustion win over and loop to the side.
Someone catches you, your eyes are unfocused as to know who, but you know that feeling, that warmth. A hand comes to rest on your cheek as the mask is placed on your face again. You try to swat it away but will makes your eyes focused and you are met with big brown doe eyes trying to stay calm and collected over sheer fear, Baran. Your hand catches on the wrist of the hand holding the mask and you stop fighting, face a bit heavier against her hand, eyes never parting. The deafening wheezing that had been filling your ears begins to ease up after a bit, and you feel your chest start loosening. Baran comes closer, forehead against yours as you two breath in and out together.
"I'm sorry" You manage to say when you believe your body will cooperate.
"Nothing to be sorry about, I'm glad to have you back" She steps away a second, warming her stethoscope before placing it in your back. You rest against her shoulder as she does so, her other hand holding you close. She looks up at Dana, the only one left in the room besides Emma. "We'll need a round of steroids and chest x rays"
"Sure thing, hon" Dana tells Baran, eyes soft. She turns to Emma to call Radiology for a turn as she begins setting the IV.
"No, no. No X Rays, I know what happened."
Both Baran and Emma stop moving, Emma looks up at Dana, hand reaching for the phone. Dana keeps prepping your arm for the IV, only giving Baran a slight glance.
"I've been doing a double, got agitated with my last patient and may have bronchitis..." It's fine, you just needed your inhaler and didn't have it close. "I'm fine"
A mix of emotions shape Baran's face in a few seconds, confusion, anger, fear, and settled in one you know well, love. "Please, just to rule out everything else". She whispers, easing you down against the stretcher. You stare at her, find her hand and squeeze lightly, nodding. "Do the call, Emma. Please"
It's 30 minutes before you start to feel complete control of your body. Baran is still by your side, sat on the bed next to you, hand caressing up and down your arm, lulling you to sleep. It may not be a movie night, but with the day you had you'd take the win.
