Medical Center
Adam was escorting Mrs. Rogerson, a patient, to get a CT scan. Meanwhile, her daughter stayed back in the room, busily assembling a dollhouse.
It was the kind Monica would adore—a panoramic mini-villa. Everything inside was a perfectly scaled-down version of reality, complete with working electricity. Tiny lights twinkled, casting a colorful glow, as little happy figurines lived their perfect little lives. Mrs. Rogerson used to love this hobby, crafting her dream life by hand. She'd passed it down to her daughter, but now, with her illness sapping her will to live, she'd lost all interest.
Her daughter, though, dragged her into building a new dollhouse together. Partly to keep her mom's hands busy and slow the disease's progression, and partly because it used to be her mom's passion—hoping it might bring some comfort. Truth is, it was mostly the daughter's idea. She'd prepare all the tiny parts—glass windows, sofas, coffee tables—and place them in her mom's hands, letting her feel them, nudging her to join in, even if just a little.
"Doctor, will it hurt a lot?" Mrs. Rogerson asked, looking up at Adam with hopeful eyes as she was wheeled along.
"Uh…" Adam faltered, unsure how to respond.
"Mrs. Rogerson, you should try to stay positive," Cristina chimed in from beside them, unable to hold back. "FOP isn't the end of the world. You know Stephen Hawking, right? He had ALS—amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. It's kinda like your situation, where you can't move much, but that didn't stop him from living a rich mental life and becoming one of the world's most famous scientists!"
"Oh, I know Hawking," Mrs. Rogerson said with a faint smile. "You're right, but not completely."
"Huh?" Cristina blinked, caught off guard.
"Hawking was a lot like me, sure, but he didn't suffer as much as I do," Mrs. Rogerson said with a self-deprecating chuckle. "He wasn't totally immobile. The key parts of his body could still move—that's half the happiness of a normal person right there. How could I possibly compare to him?"
"…" Cristina's jaw dropped. She hadn't thought of that.
Now that Mrs. Rogerson pointed it out, it clicked. Hawking didn't just let his mind soar across the universe and timelines—his body wasn't as bad off as people assumed. Fame and fortune brought perks: a computer voice, a future mechanic like Howard the space plumber, and experiences most people could only dream of. Like, say, a rotating cast of gorgeous nurses. Or getting his students to take him to strip clubs for a wild night out. 😏
In that sense, Mrs. Rogerson couldn't hold a candle to him. With FOP—fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva—even a light bump triggered bone growth. She couldn't dream of living as freely as Hawking did. So even if she suddenly unlocked a genius IQ and fell in love with cosmic mysteries, there was no guarantee she'd shine like he did.
"The heart isn't everything in life," Adam said, glancing at Cristina before comforting Mrs. Rogerson. "I've got a friend who's a huge Hawking fan, but he's all about the brain—studying the universe's secrets. If he could, he'd stick his brain in a machine and call it a day. So your situation? It's not the end. Plus, tech's advancing crazy fast these days, and medicine's keeping up. Maybe in a few years, there'll be a breakthrough for FOP—a new treatment to get you back to full health. As long as you're alive, there's hope."
"You've got a friend like that, huh?" Mrs. Rogerson shot him a playful "sure, buddy" grin. "How old is he? Don't tell me he's too young to have felt the heart yet. You guys know it's a whole different mindset once you've experienced it, right?"
"His name's Sheldon…" Adam said smoothly, though inside he was groaning.
Because, yeah, Sheldon hadn't experienced it yet. In the future, once he did—and enjoyed it—he basically turned "once you taste it, you're hooked" into his personal motto, grinding that phrase into the dirt. To Adam, it felt a bit unreal. Only in a sitcom world could a guy like Sheldon exist. Problem was, he couldn't exactly use Sheldon's future antics as proof right now.
"He's still pretty young," Mrs. Rogerson said after hearing about Sheldon, laughing. "He doesn't get it yet—life's different when you're still clueless about people."
As they chatted, they reached the scanning room.
The CT results came back: internal bleeding. Severe internal bleeding. When Mrs. Rogerson heard that without surgery she'd die within a day, a flicker of anticipation crossed her face.
"No!" Lina, her daughter, couldn't accept it. "There's got to be another way!"
"There is," Adam nodded. "We could insert a catheter through Mrs. Rogerson's groin and use it to induce an embolism in the area. It's the least invasive option we've got, but given her condition, even that's risky."
"Lina…" Mrs. Rogerson looked at her daughter cautiously.
"No!" Lina cut in, knowing what her mom was about to say. She shook her head firmly. "Mom, don't give up hope. If you hang on, there's always a chance. Please, for me—do it!"
"Sigh…" Mrs. Rogerson let out a breath and fell silent.
"Do the surgery!" Lina turned to Adam.
"Alright," Adam agreed, then walked her through the procedure and risks in detail. As her current guardian, Lina signed the consent forms.
"We need to draw blood for pre-op tests first."
"Be careful—you can only use one vein…" Lina jumped into full-on watchdog mode.
Clearly, she'd done her homework on her mom's condition. 📚
"Don't worry," Adam said. He'd planned to let a nurse handle it, but seeing Lina's intensity, he decided to draw the blood himself.
"Your skills are impressive," Lina said, visibly relaxing as she watched him work. An expert's touch was obvious.
Adam smiled and nodded, handing the blood sample to Carter before prepping for surgery.
Operating Room
"It's still bleeding."
"Platinum micro-coils, polyvinyl alcohol, gelatin sponges—I've tried everything. Nothing's working."
"Systolic pressure's down to 62."
"We need to open her up," Adam said.
"If we do that, she's dead," Kelly, the orthopedic surgeon assisting, warned.
"If we don't, she's dead anyway," Adam shot back, locking eyes with her.
Kelly sighed, watching as Adam treated this like a last-ditch effort, opening Mrs. Rogerson up to stop the bleeding.
This time, no miracle came.
"Grey!" Adam stopped moving and called out to Lexie.
"Time of death: 15:34," Lexie announced after checking the clock.
"Carter, O'Malley, take it from here," Adam instructed, then led Lexie and the short one out to face Mrs. Rogerson's daughter, Lina.
Back in the hospital room, Lina had just finished a glass window for the dollhouse and was about to install it. When she saw Adam and the team approach—and caught their expressions—the window slipped from her hands. It hit the floor and shattered into pieces… 😢
(End of Chapter)