My Total Disaster

By rosso-bass

Chapter 9: My Uh-Oh

AN: Thanks for the reviews guys! You're keeping me going strong!

Day 10 of Hospital Quarantine – 10:13 P.M.

After talking to Elliot and Sam, I felt incredible. Turk, Dr. Cox, Carla, Elliot, and Sam, they had rescued me, I knew that. The good mood wouldn't last, how could it? But at least for now, I felt that nothing could go wrong, and if it did, I could take it in stride. Bring it on Ebola, 'cause the J-Dizzle is back in the hizouse!

"Dude, Turk," J.D. said after returning to the second floor.

"What's up buddy?" Turk asked, glancing over a chart. "Feel better?"

"Oh yeah," J.D. replied, leaning on a counter. "Like, that's what I needed man. You guys… man." Turk clapped him on the shoulder.

"Well, you know why Dr. Jackson pulled it through right?" Dr. Jackson had done that for him? He was getting a basket of J.D.'s favorite lotions when this was all over. "So you could do your job. He did a nice thing, yeah, but you're the hero figure to these people. Their hero can't go down, or they all go down." J.D. nodded in disbelief. He hadn't realized at all that he was any sort of rallying point for the hospital staff. If it was true, at least he had the emotional capacity to fill his role now.

"Alright dude," Turk said, flipping the file closed. "Gotta take a patient into surgery, she's been holding out a long time, so we need to get it done."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks again man. Oh! Carla told me to pass something on to you. Um…" He racked his brain as the words came into place. Turk waited with an expectant smile.

"Um… Si usted juega con las mujeres, tajaré apagado su pene," J.D. said, impressed with his memory. Turk's smile disappeared and some of the color drained out of his face.

"Two semesters of middle-school Spanish, whatevah," J.D. said, putting on his best "cool-cat" expression, as Turk called it.

"Dude…" Turk said, his face shocked. "If I play with the ladies, she's gonna cut off my… you-know…?" He nodded his head down repeatedly. J.D.'s blood ran cold.

"Oh…" he said, his expression evaporating. "Turk, I promise you, if she comes back, I'm gonna give her such a talking-to!" Turk, still wide-eyed, staggered down the hall to the surgical ward.

Time for some shut-eye.

Day 11 of Hospital Quarantine – 3:28 A.M.

When J.D. woke up, he felt the discomfort of a loaded bladder. As per protocol, he waddled down to the quarantined bathroom, a suited man ambling over to open the plastic flap for him.

He went in and struggled to undo his precarious suit. As he began to relieve himself, pain erupted in his pelvic region. He looked down. Blood.

J.D. bolted upright in the on-call bed, panting. God it was hot. He ran his hands over himself, seeing the suit still clinging to his body. It seemed he was not yet impervious to the lurking fear that permeated the hospital. But he did have to go. His bladder felt swollen terribly, and a pulse of pain reminded him that he had not urinated since he had been tranquilized.

Shaking off the terror of the dream, he steadily eased himself out of bed, and retraced the same route he had followed in his dream. The same suited man helped him through the sterile chamber, and he walked in. Experiencing déjà vu, he struggled out of the suit. As he began, his pager rang. He enjoyed the relief a moment, leaning against the steel barrier of the stall, before he pulled the pager up to look.

"Damn," he said aloud. It was Leo again, coding. He quickly pulled the suit back over his head, zipping up the long crotch-to-neck zipper, and began walking out of the bathroom, forgetting to flush. He turned to the mirror, and though he was reluctant to look, it was like seeing the scene of a murder- you don't want to look, but you can't help yourself. He stepped closer to the mirror, and looked into his own eyes. Bloodshot.

A thin trickle of blood had dried underneath his nose, just above his lip.

"Oh my God." He jumped back, throwing open the door to the stall he had used. The same caramel-colored urine Mr. Jacobsen had produced was hanging stagnant in the toilet. His head began to swim. His feet went numb, and it felt as if his legs were melting through the floor.

"No," he said weakly, vertigo gripping him as the dizziness amplified. "No, please. Please." He stepped backwards on unsteady legs, determinedly making for the door. Colorful spots appeared in his vision, seemingly to metastasize, spreading rapidly across his field of view.

"I need help!" he said as loud as he could, but he couldn't even hear himself. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his legs buckled. He plummeted towards the Earth.