Final Entry
Title: Final Entry
Character: George
Word Count: 1,393
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Note: Okay, so I intended for this to be a GeorgeAlex fic, but I couldn't get it in at all, so it's come out as gen. Let me know if you guys want a sequel. If you do, that one will be slash.
Summary: It's coming to an end.
Spoilers: Spoilers for the season finale.
PLEASE REVIEW!
Hey, everyone.
Okay, it’s finally time. Three months later and I’m finally being released. No more hospital (until I come back to work), no more poking, no more prodding. The next time I come to this hospital, I’m going to be the doctor. It’s still a long way until I get there, but I will.
It all still seems like it’s a dream. I remember being on the street and pushing Amanda out of the way, but everything after that is a blur until I got to Seattle Grace. I guess I should be grateful that I don’t remember the pain from the impact or the pain before they doped me up with enough painkillers to kill an elephant. At least I don’t have those memories in my head. What I can remember…I remember writing on Meredith’s hand, trying to trace out “007” because there was no way I had the strength to actually write a name that I didn’t hate and I can remember (although it was blurry) the look on her face when she realized it was me.
I can still hear her “Oh, God”.
I don’t really remember the surgery they rushed me into after that.
But I do remember Izzie.
I don’t care what they say. I know it wasn’t a dream. I saw her. She was in her prom dress, the one she wore when Denny died. She stared at me and I stared at her and I knew, I knew that something wasn’t right, but I didn’t care. I was standing in front of my best friend, I was in one piece and she was healthy. Then I could feel a tug and she was fading away. I’d wanted her to come with me, but she didn’t move.
There are facts that I know about what happened after that.
Fact: Derek was able to bring me back after I flat lined.
Fact: I slipped into a coma and stayed like that for two weeks.
Fact: They put me under for another two so that my wounds could heal properly.
Fact: I was in a coma (natural and chemically induced) for twenty-nine days.
It still feels weird knowing that I missed a month of my life. Somewhere in my head, I know I heard snippets of conversations, Meredith talking about her and Derek getting married on a Post-It, Cristina telling me that I wasn’t allowed to die, my mom and brothers begging my dad to not take me with him. What I hate is that I had absolutely no sense of time. It’s disconcerting, waking up and wounds that your mind is telling you should be fresh and aching are healing and relatively pain-free. I knew my face had been destroyed in the accident, but when I woke up and demanded a mirror, I was looking at myself.
And this is the one time I’ll say it…I owe Dr. Sloan.
He pulled out every skill he had to fix my face, took the piles of pictures my mom threw at him and fixed me. It’s not exactly the same as before. My nose is a little smaller, my cheekbones are a bit higher, and my face is just the least bit shorter, but no one else could tell any of that. It’s just something you know about your own face. I just thank any god listening that I didn’t have to stare at myself with my face the way it was. I’ve seen pictures and that was more than enough.
There are still scars on the rest of my body, some almost invisible thanks to Dr. Sloan, others a little more obvious because of the size they’d been. But I can deal with scars. I’m alive.
It just kills me that Izzie isn’t.
It kills me that I missed her funeral.
I know it sounds insane, but I still wonder if maybe I could have changed it. Maybe I could have grabbed her hand and pulled her with me before Derek brought me back. That elevator was what took her to Denny, the real Denny, not the one her cancer made her hallucinate. That elevator was what took her away from Alex.
I didn’t see him much for the two months I was in the hospital following my coma. He’d come in sometimes, but he’d leave within seconds. I know it hurt him, another reminder that his wife was gone. They hadn’t even been married a week and he was already a widower. I never minded that he left as fast as he did. I didn’t know what to say to him.
I still didn’t know what to say to him when I move into Meredith’s today.
It was the best plan. We had to explain to my mother that I’d be surrounded by doctors just in case anything took a turn (which I’m praying to God nothing does). The Chief is setting their schedules so that someone will always be home. They’ll be the ones to help me with my physical therapy so I don’t have to keep going to the hospital and wearing myself out.
It’s going to be weird, moving back into my old room while all Alex’s things are still scattered around. Meredith told me that he’s been sleeping in Izzie’s room.
I am worried about him. He depended on Izzie and now she’s gone. He looks paler and thinner every time he walks in here. Meredith said that he hasn’t really been eating, can’t keep anything down. I just hope he’s able to before he’s the next one of us in a hospital bed.
I’m praying to God a lot more now and I just keep praying that he watches over our little family. I don’t think we can take another hit like this.
This accident was an eye-opener, is all I can say. It’s brought us all closer, because even though we saw death every day, none of us had ever thought those tragedies could happen to us. It made us realize just how easily everything can change. Meredith still gets all teary at the slightest mention of “007” and Cristina is a bit more human.
The day of the accident, I’d been ready to leave Seattle Grace and go off to the army, and now I’m not. When I’m fully recovered and ready to be a doctor again, it’s going to be at Seattle Grace. I don’t know the full details, but I do know that Dr. Hunt talked to some people. My name was withdrawn without a fuss. Honestly, I think that the accident was a sign that my place was here, that I was needed right here.
Meredith says I wouldn’t have looked good with a buzz cut anyway.
Cristina says I would have killed myself cleaning my own gun.
Alex hasn’t said anything.
It seems like yesterday that I was in Izzie’s room with her while she tried to decide whether or not to let Derek do the surgery and it feels like only hours ago that I was opening my eyes and seeing friends and coworkers above me as they rushed to save my life. It still hurts knowing that Izzie won’t be there when I get to Meredith’s. It still hurts knowing that I’ll never again will I see her smiling and covered in flour. But I know she’s in a better place now. She’s away from the pain of the cancer and the constant wonder of what will happen.
I still wish she was still here, though.
I wish that Alex could have had some kind of warning instead of just losing her the way he did.
I’m going to keep a closer eye on him. I know everyone else has been, but I need to keep my own on him too. It’ll be strange and it will hurt, but I think he needs someone to force him to talk before he runs.
So, yeah. I think I’m done. This is my final entry into this blog.
Joe, I want to thank you for pushing me to start this. This blog has been my outlet for everything these last two months and it’s helped more than you can imagine.
This is George O’Malley signing off for the last time.
Rest in peace, Izzie. I’ll never forget you. June 23, 1981 - May 14, 2009.
The End/TBC?
Character: George
Word Count: 1,393
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Note: Okay, so I intended for this to be a GeorgeAlex fic, but I couldn't get it in at all, so it's come out as gen. Let me know if you guys want a sequel. If you do, that one will be slash.
Summary: It's coming to an end.
Spoilers: Spoilers for the season finale.
PLEASE REVIEW!
Hey, everyone.
Okay, it’s finally time. Three months later and I’m finally being released. No more hospital (until I come back to work), no more poking, no more prodding. The next time I come to this hospital, I’m going to be the doctor. It’s still a long way until I get there, but I will.
It all still seems like it’s a dream. I remember being on the street and pushing Amanda out of the way, but everything after that is a blur until I got to Seattle Grace. I guess I should be grateful that I don’t remember the pain from the impact or the pain before they doped me up with enough painkillers to kill an elephant. At least I don’t have those memories in my head. What I can remember…I remember writing on Meredith’s hand, trying to trace out “007” because there was no way I had the strength to actually write a name that I didn’t hate and I can remember (although it was blurry) the look on her face when she realized it was me.
I can still hear her “Oh, God”.
I don’t really remember the surgery they rushed me into after that.
But I do remember Izzie.
I don’t care what they say. I know it wasn’t a dream. I saw her. She was in her prom dress, the one she wore when Denny died. She stared at me and I stared at her and I knew, I knew that something wasn’t right, but I didn’t care. I was standing in front of my best friend, I was in one piece and she was healthy. Then I could feel a tug and she was fading away. I’d wanted her to come with me, but she didn’t move.
There are facts that I know about what happened after that.
Fact: Derek was able to bring me back after I flat lined.
Fact: I slipped into a coma and stayed like that for two weeks.
Fact: They put me under for another two so that my wounds could heal properly.
Fact: I was in a coma (natural and chemically induced) for twenty-nine days.
It still feels weird knowing that I missed a month of my life. Somewhere in my head, I know I heard snippets of conversations, Meredith talking about her and Derek getting married on a Post-It, Cristina telling me that I wasn’t allowed to die, my mom and brothers begging my dad to not take me with him. What I hate is that I had absolutely no sense of time. It’s disconcerting, waking up and wounds that your mind is telling you should be fresh and aching are healing and relatively pain-free. I knew my face had been destroyed in the accident, but when I woke up and demanded a mirror, I was looking at myself.
And this is the one time I’ll say it…I owe Dr. Sloan.
He pulled out every skill he had to fix my face, took the piles of pictures my mom threw at him and fixed me. It’s not exactly the same as before. My nose is a little smaller, my cheekbones are a bit higher, and my face is just the least bit shorter, but no one else could tell any of that. It’s just something you know about your own face. I just thank any god listening that I didn’t have to stare at myself with my face the way it was. I’ve seen pictures and that was more than enough.
There are still scars on the rest of my body, some almost invisible thanks to Dr. Sloan, others a little more obvious because of the size they’d been. But I can deal with scars. I’m alive.
It just kills me that Izzie isn’t.
It kills me that I missed her funeral.
I know it sounds insane, but I still wonder if maybe I could have changed it. Maybe I could have grabbed her hand and pulled her with me before Derek brought me back. That elevator was what took her to Denny, the real Denny, not the one her cancer made her hallucinate. That elevator was what took her away from Alex.
I didn’t see him much for the two months I was in the hospital following my coma. He’d come in sometimes, but he’d leave within seconds. I know it hurt him, another reminder that his wife was gone. They hadn’t even been married a week and he was already a widower. I never minded that he left as fast as he did. I didn’t know what to say to him.
I still didn’t know what to say to him when I move into Meredith’s today.
It was the best plan. We had to explain to my mother that I’d be surrounded by doctors just in case anything took a turn (which I’m praying to God nothing does). The Chief is setting their schedules so that someone will always be home. They’ll be the ones to help me with my physical therapy so I don’t have to keep going to the hospital and wearing myself out.
It’s going to be weird, moving back into my old room while all Alex’s things are still scattered around. Meredith told me that he’s been sleeping in Izzie’s room.
I am worried about him. He depended on Izzie and now she’s gone. He looks paler and thinner every time he walks in here. Meredith said that he hasn’t really been eating, can’t keep anything down. I just hope he’s able to before he’s the next one of us in a hospital bed.
I’m praying to God a lot more now and I just keep praying that he watches over our little family. I don’t think we can take another hit like this.
This accident was an eye-opener, is all I can say. It’s brought us all closer, because even though we saw death every day, none of us had ever thought those tragedies could happen to us. It made us realize just how easily everything can change. Meredith still gets all teary at the slightest mention of “007” and Cristina is a bit more human.
The day of the accident, I’d been ready to leave Seattle Grace and go off to the army, and now I’m not. When I’m fully recovered and ready to be a doctor again, it’s going to be at Seattle Grace. I don’t know the full details, but I do know that Dr. Hunt talked to some people. My name was withdrawn without a fuss. Honestly, I think that the accident was a sign that my place was here, that I was needed right here.
Meredith says I wouldn’t have looked good with a buzz cut anyway.
Cristina says I would have killed myself cleaning my own gun.
Alex hasn’t said anything.
It seems like yesterday that I was in Izzie’s room with her while she tried to decide whether or not to let Derek do the surgery and it feels like only hours ago that I was opening my eyes and seeing friends and coworkers above me as they rushed to save my life. It still hurts knowing that Izzie won’t be there when I get to Meredith’s. It still hurts knowing that I’ll never again will I see her smiling and covered in flour. But I know she’s in a better place now. She’s away from the pain of the cancer and the constant wonder of what will happen.
I still wish she was still here, though.
I wish that Alex could have had some kind of warning instead of just losing her the way he did.
I’m going to keep a closer eye on him. I know everyone else has been, but I need to keep my own on him too. It’ll be strange and it will hurt, but I think he needs someone to force him to talk before he runs.
So, yeah. I think I’m done. This is my final entry into this blog.
Joe, I want to thank you for pushing me to start this. This blog has been my outlet for everything these last two months and it’s helped more than you can imagine.
This is George O’Malley signing off for the last time.
Rest in peace, Izzie. I’ll never forget you. June 23, 1981 - May 14, 2009.
The End/TBC?