Broken Thoughts
Part Two
By Kristen
kdarganin@hotmail.com

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters of "ER" this is for fun, not profit.

NOTE: Any mistakes are on purpose, this is a different style for me.

I'm reposting this since I'm done with the last part. This is for any catching up that is needed.

Journals Of John Truman Carter
May 19th, 2000 noon

Well the doctors here suggest that I keep a journal of my thoughts.

I'm not sure why this is important. THEY think it will help me open up with my problems, to help me express myself. I'm so tired of other people telling me what is best for me. I mean I am a doctor or I was one or---I don't know anymore. Damn it! Why is this happening me? All I wanted to do was go back to work. Is that so bad! I want to help people always have. Ever since... NO I won't go there. This is stupid, I'll go to THEIR classes and talk to their counselors, but I'm not going to sit around and try to "find" myself.

May 19th, 2000 8.p.m

OK, I said I wasn't going to write in this thing. I told THEM that I wasn't going to, but there's nothing to do. I don't want to watch TV. Dr. Pierson encouraged me to write out how I have felt during events. He said I should just try with the events that led me here. I asked him which ones? I mean that would be a novel. He said maybe the 24 hours before I came here. So, here it goes.

The day I arrived at work was typical. Let's see I got out of bed, not that I had slept the night before. I just can't sleep. I used to have these terrible nightmares about the day it happened, now I just can't shut my brain off. Do you know how difficult it is not to be able to control your own thoughts? Do you? I just lay there, in bed, just waiting for my shift to start. I relive traumas in my head, conversations, random thoughts, you name it. Everything except a moment's rest. It's not like I share my bed with anybody, who would stay with me? Who would want to? At work I'm doing something, staying occupied. Hell I even save a few lives from time to time.

I ate breakfast a little bit of cereal. My appetite comes and goes. I guess now I know the reason. I took my prescription. I even took the regular dose of 500mg of Codeine. I wasn't in too much pain and had a decent range of motion. I went to work. Nothing too exciting happened at first, saw some flu patients. There were no traumas. Then we heard about the school shooting and Weaver sent Benton and Kovac to the scene.

Both went on the helicopter. Part of me wanted to go, but they needed to move fast and I knew I couldn't do that. I did not want to be around any deranged shooters, either. I hoped that they would be safe. I just stood my and watched. Then a trauma was called in man versus some street sign or something. I took it and left Dave to take out a screw that some idiot drilled into his own leg. Guess I should have switched with him.

The guy came in all agitated and yelling that he wanted the neck collar to come off. Weaver came in and helped. Why do people always try to fight us? People yell at us for everything! I mean we do everything in our power for every person, we're not miracle workers, don't they know that we want our patients to make it just as much as they do? We're doctors we don't sit back and go "We'll let's not put much effort into this one. Or we could use that miracle cure, but nah, let's not." Where was I? Oh yea. Abby was busy examining the guy's throat while I continued to pump him with Fentanyl. I had 200 ccs and gave him 100 then another 50 when he hadn't calmed down. Then without really thinking I put the syringe into my pocket very quiet like. No one saw me, hell we were in a middle of a trauma. I stole a narcotic like some criminal some damn junkie! It was like... instinct? Survival?

But in my mind I knew I might need it later in the day. I mean twelve hour shifts. All the doses of Codeine don't put much a dent in the kind of pain I'm in. The Fentanyl could act a hell of lot quicker if I was in a pinch. Gee, how many times have I heard one of my patients say "All I needed was something in a pinch". Any ways if I was needed in another trauma and I was slow. I could endanger my patient's life. Hell even on my meds I still have to raise examine tables to intubate or examine someone.

So, I took it. Plain and simple. The next thing I did was show Abby how to put the guy's hip in place. Dumb move there. I should not have been on top of the gurney I knew that, but I'm a doctor. No one's bothered me about my pain, because they haven't noticed. I wasn't about to ask for help.

Then it was too late. The guy wasn't out. As soon as I manipulated his leg he kicked me across the room.

I mean I went flying. Hit my back on the instrument tray. Dam it hurt like a bitch. I was dazed there for a minute as my back screamed at me. It hurt all over again. A white-hot pain seized my back almost like a horrible spasm.

I heard a few gasps and Kerry was worried. I got right back up ignoring the pain that now enveloped my every move. Good thing it wasn't a long distance back to the gurney. Kerry asked if I was OK. I hate that question, heard it too many times. I told her my usual line. "I'm fine". I went right back on top of the gurney. There was no way in hell I was going to let Dave handle it. Screw that I would finish the procedure and just rest for a minute.

And I did. Got the hip back in place. Kerry was called to another case and every one left. Abby hung around and I told her I would be right there. I limped over to the sink. The pain was really bad. I mean it hurts if I bend over, but I was thrown into another object. I knew I could just inject the Fentanyl and it would take care of things. Fifty-mg wasn't much. I guess I don't know what I was thinking, but when I injected it I heard Abby come in and I froze. God could she see it? It was hanging out of my vein what could I do?

I should have realized I was in trouble. Knew it too. I was pissed at myself I usually go somewhere discreet, but I didn't... I mean I couldn't walk out without them seeing...that I wasn't all right. That I hurt, that it was hard to move..They would see my weakness. So, I injected myself right then and there. Stupidest thing I ever did. Maybe, I don't know. The stupidest thing I ever did was-- I think that's enough for now. I'm tired.

May 19th, 2000
10.00 p.m.

So, I can't sleep, what else is new. Where was I? Oh yea recalling how I screwed up my life. I walked around the rest of the day on eggshells. I saw Mark and Abby talking. Let it distract me from what I was doing. Luka and Elizabeth both had to get my attention. Didn't matter they knew. What I didn't expect was to be called onto the carpet for it.

I actually asked them if they thought I was a drug addict? Where does that word come from anyway? Addict. Addicted. That means that I can't live without it? But, I couldn't function in normal circumstances with the regular amount. Was that an addiction? I really can't believe that I accused Abby of doing drugs.

I swear they could see right though me. I kept pacing, wringing my hands. I was a wreck. They had no evidence so, I left. Mark caught up to me outside. I was smoking then. Didn't try to hide that, why bother. When he told me I couldn't see patients everything crumbled for me. My protection from the real world was gone. Did he know what he was doing to me? Chart reviews! He didn't trust me to practice medicine, all the things I was doing was so I COULD help people. It was the only thing keeping me going. Keeping me away from my isolation. He couldn't take that away from me... but he did. I acted cool with it. Patted him on the back, almost gave him the thumbs up, but that would have been too cheesy.

I spent the rest of my day doing chart reviews, just sitting there. Even after my injection. Yes MY injection, my back was seizing up. I took it. Kept thinking about all those ancient rituals that Dave spoke about when it came to withstanding pain. Guess what? I'm not some damn idiot who enjoys the feeling of agony. If I really knew what pain was, then I was not prepared for what happened to me next.

When I followed Kerry into Exam three it was like reliving the stabbing. Not the kind that Paul did to me, no this was... this was far worse. Kerry, Mark, Deb, Anspagh and... damn it why did they drag him there. Why! To see Benton's face. I bolted, but Kerry blocked my escape. So, I was forced into the corner where Paul waited for me that night. I waited for this attack to end. Except this attack hurt even more then when the knife entered my back.

Mark stood there told me that he knew about my "problem" that I was addicted. Kerry kept me trapped while I was told that I had friends, that I wasn't being judged. Right. They had convicted me for something that they cold never, ever experience. I was being truthful about not complaining. I came to work and did my job, without asking for a hand, without wasting anybody's time. I didn't want their pity, their sorrow. I deserved all that I got, except I had problems dealing with my punishment.

As they ganged up on me, I saw Benton looking down. The disappointment he must have had. All I ever wanted from him was some approval, some respect some... I don't know. I care what he thinks about me. I've always wanted to impress him, to gain some... to make him happy? To make him feel pride because of me. He is such a great surgeon. To have someone that I admire, that I look up to...to .think that I was something less...something so pathetic. I'm sorry that I couldn't handle it.

I'm sorry I hit you. Cause...God I got to stop.

May 19th 2000 11:00 p.m.

I've got to get this down, even though you'll never read it. I won't let you read it. To see how screwed up I am. I will always regret hitting you Benton. I can't believe that I raised my fist, that I decked you. But, you were getting to me. You believed THEM! You thought I was an addict, you wouldn't let me go, you wouldn't let me run away. You thought I would hurt myself? That I could end up dead? I'm not that stupid, I know what I'm doing,... what I was doing. Then you mentioned Chase and I flew off the handle. Then I hit you. I'm....I let you down. I....I let myself down. Then I broke down. I realized I needed help. That I couldn't control it anymore. I can't control the pain, the hurt, the disappointment. I'm sorry.. I need help.

Thank you for helping me...Peter, nah, Benton. I needed that. You held on to me, YOU would not let me run away. You stayed there when everyone let me go. You took notice and would not let me self-destruct. When you kept me from collapsing the world went away for just a second. For that instance someone that I love,... cared about me. Just me. Just Carter.