My Shattered Reality

Chapter 7 My Family Visit

“So what did he say?” I asked Carla.

“He said that he was playing with matches and gas and burned down the playground and that now he had nowhere to play.”
“Now that is just creepy.”
“Something’s wrong with him.”
“What, just for standing up to Coxy?”

“Well…the way he said it. And he was sitting in a windowsill when we walked in, just staring out of the window. And I mean a bit more of the past few weeks. He’s closed off and all and he usually asks us for help on different things and such, and he was getting better, but now he stopped. And we didn’t figure it out until recently, but he never has problems!”
“And that’s a problem?” But I already had a vague idea of where this was going.

“No, what I mean is…look, it’s like, big problems, he never has any, but I think it’s more that he won’t tell us! He seems to act like one giant shoulder but he never comes to us for help. He’s just like a closed book.”
“It’s a shield.”

She looked up at me from her coffee. I sipped at my own and she frowned.

“What do you mean by that?”

And now I think that maybe that wasn’t exactly the smartest move. The darker side of our, or more accurately his, past is something we buried along time ago, and now that it seemed to be resurfacing again, I wanted to deal with what little terrible memories I had to deal with, but he just wanted to shove them right back into his mental shoebox.

Oh, wait, I think I’m supposed to be talking.

“It’s a shield. He’s trying to stay far away from the flame so he doesn’t get burned. If he keeps to himself, he won’t get hurt…and…well, there are a few others things, but…well, lets just say some memories are best not remembered.”
“What memories?”
“Nothing, Carla. It’s a long story.”

“We have the time.”
“Okay, let me rephrase that: It’s a long story that everyone wants to forget.”

“What story do you all want to forget?”

Dan only shook his head as I looked back at my coffee. I feel like yelling at him, but the Starbucks on the corner doesn’t exactly sound like the best place to do that.

I was about to ask another question when my cell phone rang, so I picked it up and saw the caller ID.

“Hey, Turk.”

“Hey, Baby. How’s it shakin’?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“I’m almost done, so I called to ask if you wanted me to pick you up or if you wanted to come here.”
“I’ll be right over.”
We hung up and Dan was already getting up and walking towards the hospital.

I led him in and went all the way to the staff lounge and he slouched on the couch while I waited for Turk, and Perry walked in.

“Hey, Carla, D.D. Dumber.”

We both rolled our eyes at him and I get up when Turk and JD walk in.

“Hey, Carla,” JD said. “Enjoying your vacation?”
“JD, you try taking care of a baby 24-7 sometime. Trust me, it ain’t no vacation.”

He smiles and sits on a chair facing his brother and Perry groans.

“Did you have to ruin my break?” he asked the Dorian brothers, who both just shrug and lean back in their seats. Turk, Perry, and I get up to leave but when we walk out, it hits me.

“Perry, why are you out here on your break?”
“Because those two ruined it.” With that he left and stormed straight to the stairwell to stomp around pointlessly.

I shake my head to myself. I don’t really know why, and but he gets unusually depressed around this time of year. I guess it hit just about now.

I guess I should be honest and say I’m glad I’m not here for his little annual rage. I remember when he was in a rage so severe he dragged Bambi in a onesie to the bar…god that image was hilarious…I almost wish JD still wore onesies at night instead of his new short and tee, just so I can drag him there myself and take a picture…

Ah, good times…good times…

I sighed and leaned my head back against my chair. I doubted I was going to get any sleep, but it was nice to rest.

“So, Johnny,”
Never mind.

“Why are you working on hyper drive? I haven’t seen you slow down all day until now.”

“Keeps me busy is all.”
“From what?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re trying to avoid something. I want to know what it is.”
“I’m fine.”
“Johnny…”
He sighed.

“This is about Frank, isn’t it?”
“No it’s not.” I think I said that a little too quickly. “Look, I said I’m fine.”
“Johnny, I know you too well. It’s about him.”
“There’s nothing about him.”
“That bastard nearly killed you-”

“I told you last night not to remind me of that.”

He shut his eyes and shook his head.

“You’re turning back into the old Johnny. I don’t really like that to be true, but it is.”

“What the heck are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about. You’re closing yourself off from your friends, becoming anti-social, becoming depressed. What next? Remember what happened?”
“Nothing happened.” Why doesn’t he get that I just don’t want to remember.

“Johnny, you tried to kill yourself, remember? I can’t have that happening again. I don’t care about many things, but I do care about you.”
“Shut up! I don’t want to remember any of that. Why do you think I try never to talk about my child hood? Why do you think I try to pretend it never happened? Why do you think that no one here knows a thing about my childhood? I made it nonexistent and I want it to stay that way.”

“Just shoving it away isn’t going to work.”
“It’s been working for years.”
“But not for much longer.”
I just pursed my lips and got and up paced around, feeling a little restless.

Seriously, why can’t these people just leave me alone? I mean, come on, I’m not that bad, am I?

“You have to deal with this eventually.”
“Forget it. Mom’s just fine and I never knew anyone named Frank George Stephan.”
“Johnny, how can you just forget him? He nearly killed you.”
“He did not.”
“Remember everything he did? Stove? Coin jar? I constitute that as attempted murder. I was there, you idiot. He. Almost. Killed. You.”

“Just shut up and forget about it!” I half-yelled out at him. But he just got up and grabbed my forearm, pushing up my sleeve to reveal a very faint, pale scar.

“Remember this?” he growled at me. That’s it – this was getting way out of hand.
He then pulled up the hem of my shirt, on my lower left back, revealing a faint burn scar.

“And this? How do you explain to the ladies why you have a burn shaped a bit too much like a stove?”
“I tell them I had a kitchen accident. Easy enough to believe coming from a klutz like me.” I finally get away from him. “And quite frankly, I wish you would just shut up!”

There was a slight pause as he sat right back down while I started pacing again.

“Johnny?”
“What?” Where the hell was he going with this?
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Whenever it was, look, right now I don’t particularly care-”

“Tell me right now.”
“Lunch.”
“What did you have?”
“Some…stuff…sandwich…” but as his eyes bore right into mine, I knew it was hopeless to lie. Damnit it, whenever I was feeling a lot of anger, it was near impossible for me lie to anyone. Which is why I made it a point to never get angry. I have a lot I want to keep to myself.

“That pudding last night.”
“And before that?”
“One slice of pizza with you.”
“And before that?”
“Burger.”
“When?”
“…day before you came.”
He shut his eyes and leaned his head back.

“Not again. JD, you’re reverting to they way before you went to college, the one that just fades away. So please just don’t…I mean…god damn, how do I say this…”
“How about you don’t?”
But right about then my pager beeps and I ran out to deal with Mrs. Wasserman coding.

I ran in and grabbed the paddles of the defibrillator and started trying to revive her.

“Clear!”
“Get the adrenaline.”
“Clear!”
“CPR induced-”

“Clear!”
“Someone get Mr. Wasserman out of here!”
“Clear!”
“That’s my wife! I have to help her…”
All of this is blurring through my mind, but I am only focusing on keeping this woman alive.

“Get him out!”

“CLEAR!”

“Clear the area!”

“CLEAR!”

“O2 stats are dropping!

“CLEAR!”
“Adrenalin…now! Get the mask-”

“Clear!’

I press down, but she doesn’t respond. I try again.

“Clear.”
But I already know it’s useless.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

I switched it off at that point and called the time.

“Nothing you could do,” a nurse said. I barely glance at her nametag.

“Thank you, Michelle. But it doesn’t matter. Calling it time of death 9:47 PM. Cause of death, heart muscle failure and instability.”

I walked out and walked down a hallway but I was stopped my Mr. Wasserman himself.

“Is my wife okay?”
I look into his hopeful eyes and I know my own have hardened. I suppose I would have once, long back, tried to sugar coat it, avoid it for a few moments, for a few more seconds give him a lost feeling of hope.

But now I can’t. It’s so routine. I know not to let myself get close. Otherwise his agony might stay with me for a while, and after a certain point I just can’t bear that.

“I’m sorry,” I say in a robotic voice. “I tried.”
I wait for a moment.

“What do you mean, you tried? No…she’s not…” But he looks down the hall and sees the nurses walking out of her room, all with somber looks on their faces. “NO!”
I sigh and simply stand there for a few moments. Just because I don’t sugar coat it anymore doesn’t mean I don’t try to help them with the losses. I glance up and nod vaguely at Dan, who seems to be waiting so we could finally go grab those drinks.

“You…why couldn’t you…” Then suddenly the grieving husband looked back at me, his grief now turned into anger. He saw my slightly robotic face. “HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU NOT SAVE HER?”

“Mr. Wasserman, we tried, and there was nothing we could do-”

“You just don’t care, do you? What’s she to you, but another number, another piece of flesh, huh?”
“Mr. Wasserman-”

“YOU DON’T CARE YOU LITTLE SON OF A BITCH!”
“Sir, I understand your loss-”

WHAM

I stepped back from the punch but two more already hit my face, and he’s aiming anywhere, and soon was backed against a wall, trying not to be hit by his punches, and thankfully succeeding.

Finally security got him and held him back.

“Mr. Wasserman,” I said finally to his face. I know we have a lightly large audience but I don’t really care. “You’re wrong. I do care, about each and every patient I get that comes and goes, I care and know each of them and every loss is one I feel. But this is one for you, one. I have to deal with death every day. Staying distant is the only way to stay safe. Think about that.”
With that I backed up and he finally seems to have calmed down, but I am already walking away.

Finally I lean against a wall and someone leads me into a patient room. I feel a bit dizzy and a LOT of pain, especially from the one on the side of my head, but I sit down and I look to see Doctor Cox is the one helping me. Then I snap back.

“I’m sorry, sir, I have my rounds to do-”

“Sit down right now, Newbie.”
“Why, sir?”
“You got a bunch of punches less than three minutes ago, including one to your head, not to mention that street thug attacker weeks ago left your ribs pretty scratchy, and this wasn’t very helpful, just now.”

“I’ll be fine, sir. I have had worse and kept on going through much harder.” With that I stood up and stood fully upright. It was in all actuality killing me and I was barely keeping on a calm face, and Doctor Cox seemed to realize that.

“Newbie-”

“I’m fine.” With that I walked out and went into the nearest medical supply closet and sighed.

There were two types of supply closets here: the most common one, the janitorial ones, and there was about three or four per floor, depending on what was there. And the one that were was really only one or two per floor, the medical supplies. I was currently in the latter, looking for some strong painkillers.

I found the box in the corner and pulled out two pills from the jar, then replaced that jar back. I grabbed a Dixie cup and took the pills in the bathroom and swallowed them with some water.

I went through my rounds like normal, and soon I was back in my streets and walking out with Dan. He had apparently rented a bike, seeing as now that he was one step down from basically owning the bar because he got a big raise, and so we drove off, half racing, to the bar. Probably dangerous with a little frost on the streets, but I didn’t really care too much about my well being, and apparently neither did he about his.

So we got to the bar, parked, and walked right in and took two stools at the bar and Candy walked up and looked at Dan.

“Who are you?”
“Johnny’s brother, Dan.”
“JD’s bro? Older or younger?”
“Older.”
She rolled her eyes.

“What’ll it be?”
“Miller Lite,” I said.

“Same,” Dan requested. She got us our order and as she walked off to deal with someone else, Dan was eyeballing her ass. Judging by the way she suddenly shifted her walking I think she knew it, too, and was mocking him without him knowing. I barely managed to hold in a laugh.

“Who is that piece of eye-candy?” He said.

“That’s funny because her name is actually Candy.”
His head snapped back to me.

“Your one-night stand Candy?”
“That’s the one.”

He laughed and in the next half hour we each had two light beers grand total, laughing and making jokes about the women, and about work, and Dan telling me how much better his bar was and me just rolling my eyes at him.

“…and the lighting in the corner!”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it needs to be dimmer to make the rest of the bar look brighter, and so couples can do stuff in the corners.”

“Dan, you are putting way too much thought into this. Drink, don’t talk.”
“You know, neither of us had much to drink.”
“How do we fix that?” I asked jokingly.

“You know…” then he smiled. “Don’t see many of them here.”
“See what?”
“Drinking contests. You and me, and who ever drains eight bottles of heavy beer first wins.”

“Dude, I am going to lose, so that is so no fair.”
“Who cares, so long as we get drunk.”
We both laughed.

“Candy!” I called.

“Yeah?”
“Can we have…sixteen heavy beers.”
“Drinking contest?” She said when she finally faced us.

“Hellz yeah!” We both said at once.

She smiled and went to get another one of the bartenders, and two came back, each holding a large tray with eight beers on each.

“Drinking Contest!” Candy shouted out.

A lot of people at that point came to watch.

“May the best man win,” I said, holding the first beer.

“I will,” he said.
“GO!” Candy started us.

And so the night of fun began…

Which I suppose explains how the next morning I found myself on the floor of Dan’s motel bathroom, with my brother on the one bed in there.

I woke up and almost immediately threw right up into the toilet. I heard Dan groaning and slowly got up.

“What happened?” He asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

He looked at me and suddenly was laughing his ass off.

“What?”
“Check…check…your back belt loop…”
I did and felt something looped right through. It turned out to be a pink, lacy thong.

“Uh…” I laughed and tossed it on top of the bed. “At least I beat you at the first drinking contest.”
“How did that happen anyway?”
“I have no idea.”
He laughed before he groaned again and I just laughed.

“I’ll call Turk and ask him to bring two of those IV’s we used to cure the hangovers.”

He nodded thankfully and I found my phone.

“Turk?”
“J Dizzle? Where are you?”
“Dan’s hotel room. Can you stop by the hospital and get us some hangover cures?”
“Sure thing, man.”
I gave him the address and lay on the bed by Dan.

“He coming?” Dan whispered out. I nodded and smiled.

“That was fun…I think.”
He laughed, too and we made about a dozen different theories about how I got the pink thong when Turk knocked.

Dan opened it and Turk walked in carrying two bags and the needles for us, and he laughed.

“You guys look like crap.”
“Thanks,” Dan said while I got him hooked up, before Turk did that for me, and we hung the bags on the headboard.

“So what happened last night?” he asked.

“Besides him actually beating me at a drinking contest? No idea.”
I held up the lacy thong. “We’re still trying to figure this out.”

Turk stared before he broke out laughing and for the next two hours we sat there joking about what could have happened to us. I found two receipts that basically told us how much we each drank, though all I got was that Dan and I had another drinking contest after a while…I think.

We all went back to my tent and hung out on the two lawn chairs, while I took a hammock. Though it was frosty, it was also sunny, so it was actually kinda nice. Turk had to go back to Carla, though, so it was just me and Dan.

“Hey,” he said. “What was with you after the guy attacked you? You seemed a little loopy.”
“Probably the painkillers.”
I he had leaned the lawn chair all the way back so he sat up and was looking right at me.

“You were high?”
“No, though I guess I just couldn’t feel it, but I was a little lightheaded is all.”

He sighed and lay back down.

“That was some impressive dodging, by the way.”
“Years of experience.” I think I shouldn’t have said that because I saw his face darken. “Being the number one school yard bully target has some advantages later on, mainly this.”

I knew it wouldn’t work.
“Don’t try to cover it up.”
“Look, why can’t you just shut up about this? What part of ‘Lets pretend this never happened’ do you not understand?”
“Johnny, I am trying to deal with this, but you never have.”

I glared at him, hoping my glare was strong enough to set him in fire

It wasn’t.

“I have to go.”

“Where?”
“Anywhere but here.”
He frowned. I tried to get off the hammock, but ended up falling off instead. I hid a wince from a few bruises hitting the empty lawn chair and got up, but so did Dan.

“Look, fine, we can stop talking, but don’t walk out of your own home.”
“Fine,” I said and sat down. He ducked into my tent to go and grab some juice from the cooler and came back out with that and the booklet of apartments.

“Lookin’ for a place?”
“Yeah…I find a cheap place, and then I build a nice pool here, maybe a cottage or something like that. Who knows.”

He laughed and we spent a few hours just talking and looking through apartments for me, before he went to his hotel and I stayed inside.

Throughout all of this my thoughts kept going back to mom and Frank. I honestly hated that bastard with a passion. He had gone to prison for some bank fraud and I guess now he was out.

I don’t know why I was afraid of him. It was a long time ago – almost 18 years, really. And he was all the way in Ohio, far away from me here in California. Why did I care?

I think I was honestly more afraid of what he really was – my past. The part that not even Turk let alone anyone else, knows about. The way I nearly killed myself, the way those guys nearly killed me – blaming me for absolutely nothing or just plain and simple attacking me for no reason, other than a good punching bag.

As I drifted off, I remembered how many of my most terrible nights would begin.

A young John Dorian stood in the kitchen cooking some chicken thing for dinner for him and his brother, waiting for his brother to come back from some date. He was hoping that his mother and her boyfriend would pass out at the bar, saving his skin.

But he paled when he heard the door slam open and was glad that he closed the kitchen door.

Please don’t come here, please don’t come here, please don’t come here…

But that hope vanished when the kitchen door slammed open, as well, and a drunk man stood there, smelling terribly, bottle in hand, and a murderous glare in his eye.

“Little bag of crap, what…are you standing there for? Get me a…hic…drink!”

-

-

I woke up in my tent, sweating.

Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream…more like a nightmare, really…

I just sat there for ten minutes, trying to calm myself down.

That dream was really a memory, but of so many different men of my mother’s…

I realized I had tear streaks down my face, and quickly wiped them away. I have never cried in front of other people in my life so far as I can remember, and I wasn’t going to start now. Hell, I haven’t cried period in a few years. Not even for Kim. I drank, sure, when no one would really see (leaving everyone thinking I was always sober), but for actually crying, no.

I got up and stepped outside, and lay on my hammock. The cool night air was…comforting. Seeing as it was only mid-October I was honestly a tad bit surprised how cold it was.

The chill calmed me down a bit. I was left freezing, but it worked. I knew it was hopeless that I was getting back to sleep. Oh, well. It was…midnight. Crap. I now had six hours to myself and nothing to do. Even though I now only had two hours of sleep, I knew sleeping wouldn’t happen again anytime soon.

After somehow managed to get out of the hammock without actually tripping or falling, I got dressed for no real reason and simply lay on a lawn chair, looking up at the stars. Somehow that managed to keep me busy for two hours, but then I still had another four hours with absolutely nothing to do.

I tried looking through apartments in my booklet. After a short time, I found the perfect one. Had a…well, not the best, but decent pool, near this land, the bar, and my work. And it was only $600 a month. I could pull that off on my own.

And once again, three hours, nothing to do. So I decided to just pack my backpack and go for a walk…all the way to the hospital. What, three hours to get there!

I am not really sure what happened in those three hours, to be honest. I was walking, and I do know I was thinking, but mostly I was trying to push away the nightmare and the memories it brought up.

What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just…forget it? Why was my mind trying to remember when I specifically told it to forget?

The crappy part about walking is that whatever you’re thinking about has this tendency of being the only thing you really need to think about. So I kept trying to push this back, but it refused to go under. I tried to figure out the answers to my questions, but rather than actually get answers, all I got were more questions.

I looked up after a few hours and realized that I had made it with about forty minutes to spare.

I headed to the cafeteria and got a strong cup of coffee. Even though I couldn’t get back to sleep, I also wouldn’t really be what one could call awake, either. I considered getting something to eat, for the last solid thing I had eaten was that pizza two days ago, and since then coffee and alcohol, but decided not to. I would just end up puking it. I drained that cup and got another, and sat at a table drinking coffee, staring at the cup, when someone pulled a chair up besides me.

Why won’t he ever leave me alone?

“You look like crap,” Dr. Cox said bluntly.

“Thanks.”
Doctor Cox seemed to want to take a closer look.

“Ever heard of sleep?” I nodded vaguely, still staring at my cup. “Then why do you look like you didn’t get any?”
“Because I didn’t.”
“Why not? Even with that coffee, you’re on the verge of collapsing. You know that, right?”

“I’m fine.”
“For some reason the past few weeks every time you said that you were lying.”

“Since when do you care about my well being?” I asked before finishing my second cup.

I got up and got another before walking up to the locker room. I got changed and started my rounds.

“Newbie,” Cox came up. “As much as I hate to say this…need some rest?”
“I’m fine.”
“Any moment now you’re going to collapse and we both know it.”
“Doctor Cox, I have a lot to do here, so unless you need anything I’d like to get going.”
With that I walked away.

I guess throughout the day I seemed to get better at pretending to be normal, because people kept treating me like normal. That was good. Hell, I even went back to rambling and talking too much. I was good at faking that.

At lunch Carla was visiting again. Turns out that baby sitter was her brother, and she came in just for lunch, so Turk and I squished two tables together, and Elliot and Dan sat with us, along with Laverne because she was on lunch, and somehow Carla got Dr. Cox to sit with us, as well. I am not really sure I want to know how. They were all eating something, and thankfully no one asked why I wasn’t eating anything, except for a bottle of Gatorade and Coke to keep me awake.

“So, how was your day so far?” she asked us all.

“We found out from the autopsy what that Wasserman woman had,” Elliot said. “Botulism. We think she may have gotten it from the same source as the other botulism patient – they were both at a recent gardening club thing, apparently.”

“Oh, my god.” Carla said. “I can’t believe having to go like that.”
“I am not that surprised we didn’t get it.” Cox of all people. “Cases like that…if someone got it I would have said that it was a lucky guess that the doctor guessed it and diagnosed it.”
“Unless you got it,” Carla said. “Then it would have been some actually good doctor work.”
“Of course it would.”

“Just like always,” I said.

“And today we couldn’t get Newbie here to shut up,” Cox growled out. Dan smiled.

“I think you would have liked him before college.”
“What?” I was glaring at Dan but he ignored it.

“You know how hard it is to get him to shut up right now?” he asked. They all nodded. “Before college, it was twice as hard to get him to say more then three sentences that wasn’t academic in a week.”

That had them all staring.

“Newbie? Quiet for longer than ten seconds? That idiot talks to himself, how the hell does he manage that?”

“I’m right here, you know.”
“The only way I can imagine JD quiet for longer than that,” Elliot said. “Is when he’s asleep…or dead.”
“Then is there any chance we can get Newbie to, oh, I dunno, jump off this building so he’ll shut up?”
“Ask Elliot,” Turk said. “She did try and kill herself when she was a teenager.”
“Turk!” there’s that night pitch again.

Dan and I laughed.

“We got a ton of suicidals at our school.” He started.

“Miserable,” I said, shaking my head while everyone else laughed. It was probably cruel, especially since one of those said suicidals was me. But we had images to keep up.

So we played along and all.

During rounds, I helped Elliot deal with another sexist doctor. Except I talked with Laverne and our newest male-nurse Dante (how does an Asian guy with blue-tipped emo-hair hair get that kind of name?) and we got a little plan to give the latest sexist something to think about. Not everything may have been completely true, but hey, it’s not that far off.

“Hello, Mr. Barabasso,” I said. “I am Dr. Dorian, you can call me JD if you wish, and I am going to be your doctor this week to deal with that pneumonia.”
“About time, too!”
“I can assure you, this is one of the best hospitals around here,” I said. “And right now you are looking at the second best doctor here, so you will get top notch care.”
“Second best? Why not first?”

“Just left here ten minutes ago at your request.”
“I never saw him!”
“Well of course you had to. You’re the one that asked her to leave.”
“You said best.”
“She is.”
He smirked and sat back.

“She’s got you whipped if you’re saying that.”
“I don’t believe so. I believe if someone is truly strong…then they will have the confidence to admit when someone might be better than them and learn from them. Only those who aren’t strong will try to deny the weakness.”
I am not sure, but he actually looks surprised.

Then Dante walked in, holding a bedpan.

“Who’s this, ‘nother doc?” The guy in the bed asked.

“He’s your nurse. You got second best doctor here, best nurse here, as well.” Which was, in a way, true. Carla, after all, wasn’t here, and Dante was actually pretty good.

He stared at Dante who smiled and then fixed up the bed pan and then just left the room.

“This is messed up.”
“I thought you had the impression that only males could work in the medical field?”
“They are the doctors. The women are the nurses.”
“Sir,” I said. “Please shut up. Men and women are equal no matter what you say. They live and work just like us, and thus they hold the same positions. You are getting the best nurse and you want the second best, so long as she’s female. You had been assigned the best doctor and then decided to have second best. That’s ungrateful if I have ever heard of it.”

With that I walked out. I smiled and winked at Dan, Elliot, Dante, and Laverne who were standing just outside.

“I think he’s going to be think for quite a while,” I said simply, then walked off with Dan on my heels.

“Do you guys do this all the time?” he asked.

“Actually, I just got that idea a month ago and we used it on a patient. He didn’t completely drop it…but he definitely left thinking. We figured we would try this more often.”

He laughed and he talked with a few of the patients while I did my rounds. I told him when to ‘duck’ when Kelso came around so we wouldn’t get in trouble and all in all I had a pretty good day.

So I had to wonder why I didn’t feel like it. I honestly feel like I’ve been through a meat grinder and back, though not eating in almost three days might have something to do with that, and I feel like sleep is once again going to come as easy as catching smoke with your bear hands.

I am honestly amazed with my own acting skills. All through the day, I haven’t been that cheerful face I’ve pulled. I haven’t been that healed soul people think I am. I haven’t been the old JD everyone missed and loved.

All through the day I was around everyone. Yet no, absolutely no one at all, saw through my mask.

Which just brings up a good question:

Was it because I am really that good an actor…or just because I am not at close to anyone as I had thought?