[Sarah looked down, into Ian Malcolm’s big brown eyes, and could see the fear, the flash of embarrassment, the dawning of relief. She squeezed his hand again. ]
“I’m here, Ian. You aren’t alone.”
[The chaotician smiled in the smallest way. Sarah nodded, confidently. She squeezed his hand once more. It felt clammy, unsurprisingly, but also comforting, cozy. Sarah had never thought of a hand as cozy before, but it wasn’t that shocking, either. Not in the grand scheme of things. Besides, she didn’t mind. It was pleasant. Sarah smiled. ]
“You said they were feeding you well here, I hope your breakfast was good today.”
[Sarah glanced over to the now-empty hospital tray. She hoped her efforts to help Ian feel grounded in the present, in the now, would be helpful. Ian certainly had PTSD, Sarah had already come to realized. Probably from whatever happened on the island, but right now that wasn’t clear. What was clear was that he was suffering, he was struggling, and that he needed compassion and care. She definitely wanted to tell the nurses about then-although they probably were aware, Sarah wanted to make sure. It couldn’t hurt to make sure every possible avenue was addressed for Ian’s recovery! She would do what she could, too, in the meantime. ]
[Sarah wasn’t an expert in PTSD, she wasn’t a psychiatrist or a psychologist after all, but she wasn’t a stranger to it, either. Her grandfather had suffered from PTSD for so long, it was initially diagnosed as “shell-shock.” He had lived a long and fulfilling life, and productively managing his PTSD made it better still. She knew that research was still emerging, that the best way to treat it might change, that our understanding of it could change, too,(after all, look at how far we’ve come since World War One), but the need to treat it as best as possible remained. ]
[Sarah felt this simple statement to Ian was a little but nonetheless important part of that. It wasn’t a fix-all, but it was a small reminder of where he was now, and a likely pleasant conversation to boot. ]
“Well, I’m sure any breakfast they serve is better than my breakfast was! I had a cracker on the plane.”
“Just one! I had a small package but we hit some turbulence, and the rest of the pack slid off the tray and smashed on the floor, right at the feet of this smarmy businessman. The look on his face was worth loosing the food.”
[Sarah laughed a little, looking at Ian’s eyes, which seemed more lively than before, and heard him chuckle a bit along with her. The look on his face was worth loosing the food, she realized for a second time. ]
