1) What is one thing you have learned from your past?
He was watching her again.
It was just plain ridiculous how delicious it felt to just *watch* Izzie walk past his room, but goddamn if it wasn’t as wicked and wonderful as sneaking out to see KISS play in concert when he was sixteen. Back then, he’d been smoking in the boy’s room, feeling up girls on Lover’s Lane...and letting it all slip by completely unnoticed.
Now he was leering at pretty blonde interns and couldn’t believe his good luck.
So much of his past was spent taking simple, insignificant, glorious pleasures for granted, and now he was chained to his hospital bed by tubes and wires, marveling at the fact apple juice could taste so good sipped out of a wine glass with Izzie smiling at him, or that Scrabble was probably the greatest game ever invented when he was waiting for her to use a quasi-dirty word, or what a rebellious charge it was to watch her petite little frame whiz back and forth outside the halls in a blur of delicate, surgical blue and labcoat white limbs, and know that she’d be in later to see him.
She’d be there to keep him company and take care of her patient, and reward him with those moments that lived in her eyes between flirtatious jokes ...those stolen seconds when he was healthy and strong again, when she saw the man and not the ruined heart.
In those moments, he could almost feel his pulse beating in his veins with the steady, sure, life-giving rhythm he’d never appreciated before he got sick.
He’d learned what a large part of life the small things really were...and right now, the smallest thing wasn’t only the largest part of his life...
...she was swiftly becoming one of the most important.
2) Describe a dream that you've had. How did the dream make you feel?
Me? I dream about everything your average red-blooded transplant candidate dreams about...big money, new hearts, and various other indulgences which are more than a little on the X-rated side, so bein’ that I’m a gentleman I won’t go there.
All right, you want the truth? Bein’ stuck in this goddamn hospital, there’s only one dream I ever have anymore. Keeps me awake a lotta nights...I know, bad thing to do, lose rest when your own heart can’t even support your body, but I can’t help it. It’s like the Grim Reaper’s tapping on my shoulder with that damn scythe, and I just can’t ignore him anymore.
I dream about an operating room...sorta outside my own body, watching myself on the table with Dr. Burke opening my chest up to fix something that’s wrong...I don’t know what he’s fixing, but I know there’s blood *everywhere.* Weird thing is, it’s not gushing out or anything, it’s...seeping. Like the life dribbling away from me each passing day, my blood is trickling out of every opening the surgeons have hacked into my body.
I finally realize it’s on the floor and spreading outward at the same time I realize the surgeons working on me ain’t actually doing anything. A cut here, an organ shoved to the side there...all they’re doing is cutting away at me while my life slowly slides out of me.
I always wake up with Dr. Burke’s voice in my ears, pronouncing the time of death...and wondering just how much longer it’s gonna be before that voice in my head becomes a reality.