Chapter Text
The interns' lounge room was always a messy place, not in the traditional way of disorder or uncleanliness, never that, it was messy in the sense that there was never order. You'll see people always trying to get to their lockers, to change their scrubs, or simply trying not to get late for rounds.
Today, a particular group of interns was really trying their best not to mess up this day. The intern group of Dr. Adams was about to start their first oncology rotation, which, according to all the other groups, was no joke.
"I'm just saying, we survived trauma during a code silver, we can survive everything," one of the interns, Dr. Baker, said.
"One was old people, these are super sick people, do not compare them like they are the same."
"Maybe let's not try to judge the patients before we meet them," finally said Dr. Byers, or as his workmates usually call him, just Will.
Weston rolled her eyes as the five of them finally went to the hallway to find their attending, "You don't have to be so uptight all the time, Will, if you get too intense in this, you're gonna lose your mind before residency is over."
The rounds proceeded as usual, moving from patient to patient, reviewing each chart and treatment plan, with the familiar question, "Aren't you too young to be a doctor?", which Will was so used to that he nearly expected it.
When they got to the last patient of the day, Michael Wheeler, in room 315. Before they got inside the room, their attending, Dr. Adams, paused in front of the closed door to tell them something.
"Okay, this patient is special, not because he's a VIP, not because he's a pediatric patient, and definitely not because he's popular. He's gonna interrupt, he's gonna talk over you, he won't respect you, not because you're interns, but because you are doctors, understood?"
They all nodded, except Will, who raised his hand, waited until Dr. Adams noticed him, and asked the question they all had in their minds, "Why?"
The attending just raised his eyebrow before opening the door, "You'll see."
Inside the room, Michael was there, sitting on the bed, wearing a sweatshirt over the hospital gown, eating snacks that clearly weren't hospital-approved, playing a video game and wearing headphones, clearly not noticing, or not caring, about the bunch of doctors who just entered his room.
"Michael," Adams said, and when that did capture Mike's attention, he tried again while pulling the game out of his hands, "Michael, I need you to pay attention."
He rolled his eyes, but he took off his headphones and leaned on the bed. "I think I've already made myself very clear. It's Mike, not Michael, and I don't need a bunch of doctors coming in to tell me what I already know. Plus, look at them, they seem like they know nothing."
"Your parents gave consent, so rounds are mandatory. Speaking of them, where are they?"
"My little sister has the flu; they didn't want to risk infecting me when I already don't have a very good immune system." He said like he didn't care, grabbing her sleeves of his sweatshirt.
"Very well then, very responsible of them. Dr. Weston, present."
Dr. Weston cleared her throat and read directly from the chart, her voice a little shaky under Mike's hostile stare. "Michael Wheeler, 16-year-old. He's here for inpatient chemotherapy for acute lymphoblastic leukemia. This would be his…" she paused, flipping back a page, "his fourth hospitalization since he was diagnosed."
"Wow, she can read a tablet. Did you learn that in med school, or is it something you learn here at the hospital?" Mike clapped sarcastically, "At least the last group added something extra to their presentation."
Dr. Adams ignored him. "Can anyone tell me why Mike has to be in the hospital during his chemo sessions?" Dr. Adams asked the interns. No one raised their hand.
Mike laughed before saying, "Am I really supposed to trust them with my health? Because they don't seem very trustworthy."
Before the attending could say why, Will, from the back of the group, spoke, "For most acute leukemia treatments, since they require a higher dosage of chemotherapy, they also require 24/7 care to monitor for severe, potentially life-threatening reactions."
Mike fixated on the voice because he was sure it wasn't an adult's. Once the group shifted a little to reveal Will, Mike had to blink to confirm he was seeing right, making sure his eyes weren't fooling his brain, because that was a teen, and the coat looked almost like a costume on him.
"Correct, Dr. Byers.”
Mike almost choked to that, “I'm sorry, he's a doctor? He looks younger than me.”
“He's actually two weeks older, and you might as well get used to him, he's gonna be your doctor.”
Mike looked at the attending, then at Will, and then at the attending again, “If this is a punishment for the time I put food coloring in the soap of the resident’s bathroom, I already apologize for that, and I’m pretty sure putting my life at risk is not a fair retribution.”
“This is not retribution. All the attendings and your oncology specialist agree on this.” He said with a smile before walking out of the room, and all the interns followed him.
Once they were back in the hallway, Dr. Adams gave each one their jobs of the day. Weston and Baker were gonna run labs; Carson was going to see the MRIs and PET scans; Sanders was making treatment plans with the oncologists; and finally, when they were all gone, he looked at Will, who was already waiting to ask the question.
“Why me? I thought you said he was difficult and that he doesn’t like doctors.”
“That’s exactly why we chose you. He’s been in hospitals basically all his life; he needs a little sense of normalcy, and you are close to his age, so maybe he won’t be an asshole to you.”
“I’m not sure you should be referring to patience that way…”
“You’ll get it one day. Now, go in there and talk to him. The last time he was here, he almost made his mom promise that if the cancer came back, he wouldn’t go through chemo again.” Dr. Adams then walked away
Will stood there for a moment, just trying to process all of the information. He took a deep breath before turning around, firmly grabbing the handler, and opening the door to enter the room again.
Mike was obviously still there, sitting, “So, you sure you're not gonna kill me, right? Cause my own blood is already trying to do that, so two against one wouldn’t be fair.”
Yeah, this wasn't going to be an easy rotation.