Help someone told me about a rude person and I guess she wanted to say narrow-minded but also had cold-hearted on her brain so she said "he was so narrow-hearted" and I've been whispering it to myself ever since. Narrow-hearted. Narrow-hearted. Narrow-hearted. An indifference or unwillingness to be kind or helpful to others borne by a general inability to relate to others or judge based on context and individual information.
Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!doctor!wife!reader
Hour Two. | Hour Four.
[ Series Masterlist ]
Summary: Hour Three: Denial is not just a river in Egypt, it also is beginning to live in your chest, screaming ‘we can make it’ even when everything points to the contrary.
Note: Thank you for all the comments, reblogs and likes on last part!! You guys are great💜Sorry for the delay! Halfway through writing I got ill, then felt better, then worse, then ended up in the ER with a ruptured appendix. I’m okay! But it’s been a process and I’ll need another surgery, but I hope it won’t be too long until the next part. (I think I jinxed myself with Chelsea from the last part lol)
Belated congrats: Noah won an Emmy!! Katherine won an Emmy!! Shawn won an Emmy!! The Pitt won an Emmy!! Look at us goooo
Word Count: 2.5k+
Warnings: age gap, ANGST, established relationship (marriage), rough patch in a marriage, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, canon typical gore, foul language, bottled up emotions/poor communication, being a bit mean to each other as a result, Robby is emotionally constipated, hurt/little comfort
not beta read !
HOUR THREE.
Rashes. Vomiting. Broken bones. Words echoing in your head, quieting only when you were with a patient.
Whatever you thought today would bring, it certainly was not this. Hurtful words and the inability to keep away long enough to cool down. The ED was a never-ending stream of cases, patients pulling you in each and every direction. Robby used to be the one who anchored you, but now you felt lost at sea.
You remembered the good days — how effortlessly you used to work beside each other and how creating a home meant being together. He had been easy to lean on, especially at the hospital, and you felt you had thrived.
As the honeymoon phase waned, the ED became less of a place to discuss the future and more of a tomb holding your present hostage. It was hard to discuss personal matters at work, and even harder when Robby avoided certain things at home. Your own lingering fears, starved off by the whirlwind romance and late nights planning your wedding, began to grow when everything finally started to settle.
Robby slowly became less sturdy to lean on the more you saw the demons that haunted him, and home slowly just became a house. Your inability to just move forward became just another fact of everyday life.
Dana slid in beside you while you were trying to distract yourself with charting at registration. She scanned Chairs before offering a smile.
“Robby’s looking for you.”
Your frown deepened, “I’ll be there shortly.”
It was thinly veiled that you would not in fact be there shortly, but Dana caught on all the same. Chairs could be hectic, and in the chaos, who could blame you for forgetting your boss wanted to say something to you.
Dana rubbed your arm, “I don’t know what’s going on with you two today, but it’s giving me heartburn. Some marriage advice—”
“Thanks, Dana, really, but I’ve got—”
“You don’t have a patient. Listen to me, whatever it is, you’ve got to talk about it. And—”
“Can you offer it to me later?”
She deadpanned, “Alright, kid. I won’t push. Come to me when you’re ready.”
All you had was a nod, and you watched her depart. Lupe side-eyed you before calling a name. You and Mateo got to work on the man with dizziness and fainting spells.
Discarding your gloves, your stomach knotted itself, rolling uneasily at why Robby needed to speak with you. Apologize, maybe? But why would he send Dana rather than come himself? Disciplinary? Again, not likely to send Dana for that.
You wanted to face it, whatever it was, but a high pitched scream called your attention back to Chairs.
“My friend! My friend, she won’t wake up!” The woman cried, panic etched across her face.
You waved over McKay and rushed to follow the girl out to her car, Javadi on your heels. The girl in the backseat of her friend’s car was pale with a sheen of sweat across her forehead. With no response to the sternum rub, your mind immediately went to an OD.
“What’s her name?”
“Jenna.”
Pinpoint pupils confirmed what you feared. You called for Narcan from McKay as Mateo ran up with a gurney.
“Hold her head back, Javadi.”
Javadi did as she was told, watching as you pushed the Narcan up her nose. One dose in and you wanted her on the gurney. It took a bit of finagling, but with all the hands you made quick work of it. You were unconsciously counting down in your head, hoping you did not have to give the girl another dose — but, you supposed, a lot of vomiting would be a small price to pay if she lived.
“If she doesn’t respond in another minute we can try another dose, or we might have to intubate.” You told Javadi.
“I’ll find a room and open a crash cart.” Mateo said, pushing the gurney along from the girl’s head.
“I can’t find a carotid pulse.” Javadi told you, looking over to McKay, who was beside her.
You wheeled her back through the doors, moving passed triage to get her a room to monitor her. Mateo was grabbing the crash cart when she bolted upright with a gasp.
With a sigh of relief, McKay welcomed the girl back.
“Where the hell am I?” Jenna asked, looking wildly between you, her friend trailing behind.
“Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.” McKay supplied.
“Why?”
“Your friend couldn’t wake you.” Javadi said, glancing down at her.
You wheeled her into a curtained room, allowing McKay to then run point while you observed. Mateo moved past you, and you side stepped to get out of the way.
It was quick to come to light the drug she had taken, but you ordered bloodwork just to be safe. While the girl did not seem like an addict, you figured having Kiara step in just to make sure couldn’t hurt.
You approached the hub, hoping to spot Kiara, or page her about your patient. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Robby closing the curtain to South 20, an obvious frown on his face. You quickly looked away when he met your gaze, and you cursed internally.
He approached with his hands in his hoodie pockets, exhaling a long breath.
“Hey.” He said.
You glanced at him, “Hi.”
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Depends.”
He looked down at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. When he met your gaze, he winced.
“I’m sorry about before. Today has—”
“Yeah, I get it.” You said, painfully aware of the way Dana was looking at you from across the hub. “It’s fine. What’s the favor?”
His eyebrows raised slightly, but he did not venture to question you, “Whitaker. He lost his first patient. Hoping you could work your mojo, keep an eye on him.”
That was definitely not what you had been expecting, “Okay, yeah. You good if I take him to triage, then? He can switch out with Javadi—”
“No, no. You can, uh, you can run him by some patients back here.”
You were silent for several beats of your heart, “Okay.”
Robby nodded, rocking back on his heels, “O-kay.”
You held his brown eyes for a long moment, itching to say something else, something more, but decided against it. You weren’t sure it was a calm that had settled, but it was worlds better than the turmoil that was rocking the boat.
Finding Whitaker was easy enough — standing at the charge desk, looking up at the board like a lost puppy. You took in his expression before approaching him.
“Whitaker, right?” You asked, before introducing yourself, “I heard you lost a patient.”
He quickly looked away from you, sucking in a breath, “Yeah…Mr. Milton—he—”
“Practicing medicine will come with its inevitable losses,” you said, leaning on the desk, “but that doesn’t make them any easier.”
He nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”
You offered an empathetic smile. “First ones are always the toughest. Walk me through it?”
Whitaker fiddled with his hands, mostly avoiding eye contact while he went over Mr. Milton’s history, chief complaint, and where it had all seemed to go sideways.
Letting out a long sigh, you digested the information. “Sounds to me that you did everything right.”
“I didn’t—”
“No one could have caught that, Whitaker. Sometimes you do everything right — perfect even — and it still has the same end result. You did your best, give yourself some grace.”
“Okay, yeah.”
“If you need a few minutes at any point, let me know.” You told him, before glancing at the board. “For right now, you’re with me. Let’s go.”
His eyes widened before he followed after you.
Stepping behind the curtain to where Chelsea laid — the appendicitis patient from triage — you greeted her and her mother warmly, introducing Whitaker.
“I see your results have come back.” You said, opening up to read the notes. “Looks like you do have a ruptured appendix, Chelsea. I’m very glad you came in.”
You moved slightly to the side so Whitaker could read the results, and see part of the CT scan.
“A surgical consult should be by soon to discuss your next steps. Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?”
“Is there anything you can get me for the pain?”
“Of course, let me go put that in for you and a nurse will be back with that, alright?”
You moved from the room back into the hallway, typing a few notes onto the tablet, before glancing at Whitaker.
“Pick one on the board.” You said, ordering a few things for Chelsea.
“Uh…” Whitaker stared wide-eyed at you. “I don’t think—”
“You got this. I’ll be right there with you.”
You knew he just needed to get a bit of his confidence back, but it might be a few hours before that was possible. You had seen a myriad of reactions to death, all of them valid, all including a med student just fully quitting then and there.
Whitaker ended up picking a relatively easy case off the board, but you made no comment. He had a hard time leading at first, but after a few minutes he was comfortable asking questions. The patient had taken a nasty fall down a flight of stairs, and was waiting some additional tests, but appeared relatively fine except some bruising.
“Why don’t you head to Central 14 — Mr. Fulton just needs a shot of Mylanta for his GERD.” You said, putting the tablet back, looking around for your husband.
“Alright, thanks,” Whitaker said, nodding before heading off in that direction.
You sighed.
“How’s he doing?”
You looked up to see Dana, who was studying you.
“I think he just needs to get back into the groove of it, but he’ll be fine.”
“And you?”
The inside of your mouth soured, “I’m good.”
She raised an eyebrow like she didn’t believe you, but didn’t press.
Typing a few things on the computer, he did not hear your approach.
“Did you inform Nick Bradley’s parents yet?” You asked, tapping your fingers on the desk, a nervous habit of yours.
“For Christ’s sake,” Robby grumbled. “Can you leave it alone?”
You put your hands up in surrender, “Just trying to help.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not.”
Your eyes grew hard and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Don’t wait too long.”
Robby rolled his eyes, “From the queen of delaying informing next of kin, or putting it off on me, you’re awfully eager to shatter their world.”
You clicked your tongue, “Why are you avoiding it?”
“I’ll get to it. I already told them his chances. He’s got a cerebral perfusion study.”
“You’re stringing them along, Robby. We don’t work in miracles.”
“What’s a little bit more time to hope? To maybe just come to the realization of everything that’s happened to them? You sound like Collins.”
Your jaw tensed, and you took a long breath, “Do you want me to do it? I don’t mind—”
Robby scoffed, “What? Just so you can avoid that, too?”
“You know what, sorry I even asked.”
He pivoted quickly, “How’s Whitaker doing?”
You pursed your lips, eyeing him with an eyebrow raised. You wanted to bite back, but kept it reigned, “I think he’ll be alright. Might take a bit for his confidence to come back, but it’s only his first day.”
Robby hummed absently, eyes going back to the screen.
“Well…if there’s nothing else, I’ll be heading back to triage.”
“Wait—Can you keep an eye on him? Float around here for an hour or so?” Robby asked, meeting your eyes. “Just in case he needs you?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, but didn’t push. “Yeah, sure.”
Robby smiled, just a small uptick in the corner of his mouth, but you caught it. It settled something in your chest — the clawing, anxious feeling that had been nagging you all morning. The bickering between you had been the worst than it ever was, like a rock and a hard place refusing to give up any ground to the other.
This felt like a stalemate — and against your better judgement, you decided to leave well enough alone. You were tired of arguing, bickering, trying to win or be heard.
The moment was invaded quickly with a new incoming trauma — but instead of disappearing completely, it felt as if someone had hit pause. And that was good enough for now.
Robby disappeared into Trauma-1 and you went looking for Whitaker, seeing there were plenty of hands to care for the incoming patient. You checked Central-14, and then the staff lounge, before checking back at the charge desk.
“Mohan, have you seen Whitaker?”
She looked up and smiled, “He had to change his scrubs. Unscrewed cap of Mylanta.”
“Well, that’s a lesson you only need once, I suppose.”
She barely hid a smirk, “Not that hard to remember to screw it back on.”
You chuckled, “You would think.”
“It’s good to have you back.”
You smiled warmly, “Thank you, how’s it been?”
“Actually, can I ask you something?”
You tried to make sure your smile didn’t fall, offering a cautious, “Sure.”
“Robby has been on my ass about how long I’ve been taking…and I’m trying, but I’m just trying to give the best patient care I can.” She said, biting her lip, “I don’t want to get between you two about anything….”
Your smile cracked, thinking ‘If he listened to me, everything would be less messy’ but you masked it.
“We’re pretty good at keeping our professional and personal lives separate.” You lied, and it burned in your throat.
She nodded, “Yeah, yeah of course. I was just hoping he might listen to you.”
“I’ll mention it to him to dial it back, but we both know you’re capable of giving great care in a timely manner, Mohan.” You said earnestly, and you meant it. Mohan was a great doctor, and had the potential to be an excellent ER physician when her residency was through, you just needed her to see that, too.
“I just don’t want to sacrifice patient care.”
“And if I know you, you won’t. Maybe grab another patient right now, show you’re trying. It’ll help ease him off, I’m sure of it.”
She let out a long breath of air before nodding, determined. “Alright, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
As she walked away, you realized you were going to have to hit resume on the little pause of conflict between you and Robby. You desperately did not want to, and really just wanted to get through the rest of your day without any additional hiccups.
You appreciated the fact that so many felt comfortable to come to you for advice or help, and that had never put you at odds with Robby before, but now it was just more kindling for the fire. You and your husband had always been great at keeping work at work, at least in the beginning. Personal and professional had begun to blur and bleed into each other likely long before you had even noticed, if it was truly separate at all.
With a new incoming trauma, you figured it would be okay to put Mohan’s request on the backburner for now. You could allow yourself to enjoy Robby’s presence beside you while you worked on the patient together, quiet, controlled, focused.
It was all going to be okay. It had to be.
[ Hour Four. ]
(sorry it was so long! It might be a bit for the next one, but not nearly as long!)
Congratulations to SHAWN HATOSY on winning the Emmy Award for Outstanding Guest Actor in a Drama Series for his performance as Dr. Jack Abbot in season 1 of THE PITT!
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