(no subject)
It's funny, really, how quickly things can change.
Hours ago, Izzie Stevens was engaged. Hours ago, she was trying on dresses, wanting to look perfect for the prom at the hospital. Hours ago, she was, without a doubt, the happiest person on earth. Now, her fiancé is dead, she's still got her prom dress on, and all she can do is lie on the bathroom floor.
It's funny, except for the part where there isn't anything funny about it at all.
Izzie isn't even sure exactly how long she's been lying there, unmoving, cheek pressed to the cool tile. She can't be sure of anything anymore, in fact, just that she has to have been there a long time, if George and Mere and Cristina coming in to try to talk her out of this is any indication. Frankly, she doesn't care. This is how she's always going to be remembered, as the girl who fell in love with a patient and went crazy and cut an LVAD wire and lost said patient and quit her job and lay on the bathroom floor for, most likely, the better part of a day. None of that matters except for the part where Denny is dead, and despite the people on the other size of that door, Izzie is absolutely, completely alone, because things like this, they aren't supposed to happen. She's built a whole life around believing that. Without that to hold on to, nothing makes sense anymore.
What makes less sense than the rest of it, though, is that the gray tile suddenly feels like wood and there's a bed where the bathroom should be, one she hasn't ever seen before. Too confused to do anything else, Izzie considers the possibility that she's finally snapped, gone and really lost her mind in the face of all of this, because there just isn't any other explanation. Cutting an LVAD wire is one thing, and maybe not particularly sane, but outright hallucinating is another entirely. Still, regardless, she doesn't move, stays right where she is, chest slowly rising and falling, eyes staring blankly in the direction of the bed. If this isn't real, there's no reason for her to do anything else, and even something like this seems inconsequential in the face of what's happened.
Hours ago, Izzie Stevens was engaged. Hours ago, she was trying on dresses, wanting to look perfect for the prom at the hospital. Hours ago, she was, without a doubt, the happiest person on earth. Now, her fiancé is dead, she's still got her prom dress on, and all she can do is lie on the bathroom floor.
It's funny, except for the part where there isn't anything funny about it at all.
Izzie isn't even sure exactly how long she's been lying there, unmoving, cheek pressed to the cool tile. She can't be sure of anything anymore, in fact, just that she has to have been there a long time, if George and Mere and Cristina coming in to try to talk her out of this is any indication. Frankly, she doesn't care. This is how she's always going to be remembered, as the girl who fell in love with a patient and went crazy and cut an LVAD wire and lost said patient and quit her job and lay on the bathroom floor for, most likely, the better part of a day. None of that matters except for the part where Denny is dead, and despite the people on the other size of that door, Izzie is absolutely, completely alone, because things like this, they aren't supposed to happen. She's built a whole life around believing that. Without that to hold on to, nothing makes sense anymore.
What makes less sense than the rest of it, though, is that the gray tile suddenly feels like wood and there's a bed where the bathroom should be, one she hasn't ever seen before. Too confused to do anything else, Izzie considers the possibility that she's finally snapped, gone and really lost her mind in the face of all of this, because there just isn't any other explanation. Cutting an LVAD wire is one thing, and maybe not particularly sane, but outright hallucinating is another entirely. Still, regardless, she doesn't move, stays right where she is, chest slowly rising and falling, eyes staring blankly in the direction of the bed. If this isn't real, there's no reason for her to do anything else, and even something like this seems inconsequential in the face of what's happened.