#pittmade.

[harkerspitt]

✧ @pittmade ﹕❛  everyday  is  difficult  down  here.  ❜

" you can say that again. " he sighs, eyes closed for a moment. soon he's pulling his gown off, trying not to think about the blood too much, dumping them in the bin. hands drag over the flesh of his face. cold water, that's all he can dream of for now.

" does it get better ? or easier ? " he knows the answer, and yet he still asks. a sliver of hope that the answer could change, that it's not all predefined by death, blood, and the weight of the trauma rooms.

[harkerspitt]

✧ @pittmade ﹕if you're so smart , why are you so afraid ?

gaze follows after a patient leaving trauma one, car crash victim rushing to surgery for a ruptured spleen. frozen entirely in place, replaying his care. he didn't lack the knowledge of proper procedure, but he lacked action. hands move to begin cleaning up, distracting from the faint shake of his hands --- the weight in his chest.

apparently his hesitation was obvious, a faint stare falls over linoleum, soon redirected toward jack. eye contact doesn't last long, returning to glaze over the tiling. he slowly pushes back to his feet, silence given in lieu of a response while he thinks.

" i'm not afraid. i turned down the opportunity because i've already helped with a splenectomy, it's a teaching hospital. i've been taught. " talking entirely out of his ass, hands settle in the pockets of his scrubs. something lies deeper beneath, but if god's ever answered a prayer for him before, he hopes it's the one where jack abbot believes this crock of shit..