What You're Wishing For
We all have something we're wishing for - something we dream of or work towards. A change for the future we covet. It's the story we tell ourselves when we say things are going to get better. We imagine all the ways our lives could improve, if only we were a little luckier or tried a little harder, if only the universe went our way just this once.
It's been nearly two weeks since Lexie arrived on the island and Meredith has done everything in her power to avoid her. She won't run if she sees her. She's insistent on standing her ground (she was here first, this is her home), but that doesn't mean she won't leave just a little sooner than she might otherwise, keep to one side of the room more than normal, seek out different parts of the beach in the afternoon just in case her half-sister gets it into her bleached blonde head that she needs to sunbathe.
The job you want to get, the hot guy you want to be with. A life that's just a little more exciting. No matter how good things get, there's always just one more thing… We fear change, but still we hope that, tomorrow, something will be different. That we will be better. That our lives will be more interesting.
With classes out and her ribs still healing, there isn't that much Meredith can do as it is now, and she finds herself at home or else wandering aimlessly, sometimes walking Doc, more than she'd like. For a little while there, in spite of her restlessness, things were so good, but this last month or so has been a disaster. She's always complained about not having enough to do, about being bored, but she never asked for any of this. Truthfully, though, she's still a little stunned she managed to avoid trouble like this for so long.
And sometimes, sometimes we get lucky and we get it and it's everything we wanted, but more often than not, the things we want are more than we bargained for. There's a reason they tell you to be careful what you wish for. It's because we can't always see just how getting it will affect us. Sometimes, more interesting? Isn't better. Sometimes it's just a different kind of difficult, and the thing you thought would make things better isn't anything like what you thought it would be.
The clinic, at least, remains a safe haven. She knows what she's doing there and she knows - though it's not really something she thinks much about - that Lexie won't bother her there. She's made it plenty clear she doesn't want her around, and this clinic is her indisputably her territory, not Lexie's. In spite of her injuries, she refuses to keep away for long and she's been back at work for a while now; it's not like there's anything especially strenuous about sitting around the clinic. She had a novel earlier, but finished reading it too early in her shift, abandoning her post briefly to find something new. The bookshelf's been less than cooperative, refusing to give her anything but trashy magazines (and okay, she doesn't actually mind those) and wedding ones, but she isn't about to let that keep her from being satisfied with the one part of her life she can still keep in perfect working order.
Maybe it's childish - no, scratch that, it's definitely childish - but there's a certain simple pleasure in doodling on those perfect smiling faces, using highlighters and Sharpies to add mustaches and pink streaks to all that bridal self-satisfaction. Maybe it's just that it reminds her of a childhood spent doodling on hospital charts. Elbow propped on the counter, paperwork done for the evening, she turns a strapless Vera Wang gown bright green with several vigorous strokes of her pen, setting it down when she hears someone walk in. "Can I help you?"
It's the nature of surgeons to push harder, want more, gun to be the best there is. It's the nature, I think, of most people, and ambition can be a good thing. But there's something to be said for appreciating what you have when you have it. Like Oscar Wilde once said, when the gods wish to punish us… they answer our prayers.
[Clinic post, regular EP. Need a doctor, looking for Meredith, took a wrong turn, bored and wandering past the clinic sometime in the evening? If you have a patient, make sure and fill out a form at island_medical!]
It's been nearly two weeks since Lexie arrived on the island and Meredith has done everything in her power to avoid her. She won't run if she sees her. She's insistent on standing her ground (she was here first, this is her home), but that doesn't mean she won't leave just a little sooner than she might otherwise, keep to one side of the room more than normal, seek out different parts of the beach in the afternoon just in case her half-sister gets it into her bleached blonde head that she needs to sunbathe.
The job you want to get, the hot guy you want to be with. A life that's just a little more exciting. No matter how good things get, there's always just one more thing… We fear change, but still we hope that, tomorrow, something will be different. That we will be better. That our lives will be more interesting.
With classes out and her ribs still healing, there isn't that much Meredith can do as it is now, and she finds herself at home or else wandering aimlessly, sometimes walking Doc, more than she'd like. For a little while there, in spite of her restlessness, things were so good, but this last month or so has been a disaster. She's always complained about not having enough to do, about being bored, but she never asked for any of this. Truthfully, though, she's still a little stunned she managed to avoid trouble like this for so long.
And sometimes, sometimes we get lucky and we get it and it's everything we wanted, but more often than not, the things we want are more than we bargained for. There's a reason they tell you to be careful what you wish for. It's because we can't always see just how getting it will affect us. Sometimes, more interesting? Isn't better. Sometimes it's just a different kind of difficult, and the thing you thought would make things better isn't anything like what you thought it would be.
The clinic, at least, remains a safe haven. She knows what she's doing there and she knows - though it's not really something she thinks much about - that Lexie won't bother her there. She's made it plenty clear she doesn't want her around, and this clinic is her indisputably her territory, not Lexie's. In spite of her injuries, she refuses to keep away for long and she's been back at work for a while now; it's not like there's anything especially strenuous about sitting around the clinic. She had a novel earlier, but finished reading it too early in her shift, abandoning her post briefly to find something new. The bookshelf's been less than cooperative, refusing to give her anything but trashy magazines (and okay, she doesn't actually mind those) and wedding ones, but she isn't about to let that keep her from being satisfied with the one part of her life she can still keep in perfect working order.
Maybe it's childish - no, scratch that, it's definitely childish - but there's a certain simple pleasure in doodling on those perfect smiling faces, using highlighters and Sharpies to add mustaches and pink streaks to all that bridal self-satisfaction. Maybe it's just that it reminds her of a childhood spent doodling on hospital charts. Elbow propped on the counter, paperwork done for the evening, she turns a strapless Vera Wang gown bright green with several vigorous strokes of her pen, setting it down when she hears someone walk in. "Can I help you?"
It's the nature of surgeons to push harder, want more, gun to be the best there is. It's the nature, I think, of most people, and ambition can be a good thing. But there's something to be said for appreciating what you have when you have it. Like Oscar Wilde once said, when the gods wish to punish us… they answer our prayers.
[Clinic post, regular EP. Need a doctor, looking for Meredith, took a wrong turn, bored and wandering past the clinic sometime in the evening? If you have a patient, make sure and fill out a form at island_medical!]