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Susan is sitting at the admit desk, trying to get her mind off of Div's behavior the last few days. She's finishing up some of her charts when she hears someone walk up next to her. She quickly glances up to see Carter, looking weirdly determined, before her gaze flicks back down.
"Hey, Dr. Lewis, you know that wrestler we saw this morning?" She hums a sound of acknowledgment, which seems to spur him on. "I'm pretty sure he has an eating disorder and we need to admit him." He rushes it out, like he expects her to cut him off or dismiss the idea completely. She quickly turns to look at him, and she realizes he doesn't just look determined, he looks weirdly anxious.
"Oh, okay," she stutters a bit, wanting to figure out why he seems to worried but she doesn't want to prod too much, "what made you think of that?"
"Well, I used to wrestle in college, and it was pretty common." He shrugs quickly, "I mean, everybody did it. I—well, we all used to skip out on meals and sweat out as much of our water content we could to make weight. It's really competitive and sort of pushed on the wrestlers in a sense." He trails off while shrugging again. He's silent for a few seconds, long enough that Susan almost cuts in, before he takes a deep breath and keeps going.
"Nobody really…I mean, it isn't taken very seriously in the community itself. We were fit, worked out, and we won almost all of our matches. We were good. But, some of the guys, they would go a little far." He's playing with a stack of papers on the desk and Susan furrows her brow and frowns slightly.
"Carter—"
"Some of them wouldn't eat at all before weigh-ins, I mean nothing and then they would eat a bunch before their matches, just to—well, they would usually go to the bathroom right after the winner was announced. Wouldn't come out for awhile." He's looking anywhere but her eyes. "And, I just think if I could go back I would've wanted to have had them admitted. Or, I dunno—if someone had just noticed, someone who had a bit of authority to get us help, I think a lot of those boys would've been better off." He's almost whispering, clearly dancing around something. He shakes his head quickly, as if shaking off what he just said. "Anyway, his lab results were pretty telling too." He pulls a paper off of the small stack of papers on the desk, passing it over to her. She barely glances at it, keeping her eyes trained of Carter, who still looks weirdly anxious.
"Okay, I'll talk to him." She can hear the concern dripping from her own voice, and by the look on Carter's face, one akin to a cornered animal, she knows he hears it too. "Thanks for telling me, I'll try and get him admitted, okay?" Carter sighs a big breath of relief, and it's like a visual weight is pulled off his shoulders, he stands a little taller.
"Thank you, Dr. Lewis." He smiles at her, a little shaky, before he walks off. She sighs to herself, concern still furrowing her brow.
She's finally done getting the wrestler admitted, with no help from Div who seems to still be in a foul mood. Nonetheless, the kid is going to get some help. She's about to go find Carter to tell him the good news when she runs into Peter instead. He's sitting at admit, staring down at some papers.
"Oh, hey, Peter," she gets quick nod of acknowledgement, he seems engrossed with some lab results. "Can I ask you something quick? It's about Carter." That seems to catch his attention.
"What? Did he do something?" He furrows his brow, looking vaguely annoyed.
"No, no, I was just wondering if you've noticed any weird eating habits?" She asks a little sheepishly, but it's been worrying her since their conversation and she thinks Peter is probably the guy who would know.
He snorts a laugh, "I mean, he'd probably eat every minute of the day if I let him, but that's pretty normal for a 23 year old med student." He shrugs, "Why are you asking?"
"Well, he just mentioned some stuff about when he was a wrestler in college and I figured of anybody you'd know if he had any, y'know, lingering eating habits from back then." He shakes his head, "he seems fine to me." he mutters.
"Alright." She pauses. "You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?" Peter silently points his thumb behind him at the ambulance bay. She nods before quickly grabbing her coat out of the lounge and walking out the doors. She sees him leaning against the wall a few feet ahead. He isn't wearing his coat, just the thin white coat that does nothing to fight the cold.
"Hey, Carter!" She calls, quickly getting his attention. He smiles when he sees her, waving a bit. "Hey, Dr. Lewis." She stands in front of him. "Where's your coat?"
He gestures vaguely towards inside, "I just wanted some fresh air. I wasn't planning on being out here long." She nods, but judging by his pink nose it's been a little too long since he's been out here. But, one problem at a time.
"Hey, I got your wrestler admitted. Took a little fighting with Div but he's gonna stay up in psych for a while." She smiles at him as she see's him light up a little.
"Hey! That's great!" He's bouncing on his feet, either from the cold or excitement she can't tell. Maybe both. He still looks a little shifty, like he knows where this conversation might be heading. She sighs, knowing she just has to rip the band-aid off.
"Carter, are you," she struggles to find the right words, gesturing with her hands in a vague motion, "you just seem a little shaken by this case, and I'm a bit worried." Carter's smile drops a bit, and he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat. He turns to face the street again, and he sighs a bit.
"Yeah, no, I'm—" he cuts himself off, before quickly turning to face her again. He has a different look in his eye, one that says he knows what she's thinking. "I don't have those habits anymore." His tone is hard, a solid wall that cuts her her brain off from going to the worst possible scenario. "I just know that I would've wanted somebody to notice. I didn't want that kid to fall through the cracks like I did. I didn't want him to go through the process alone." He looks more sure of this than anything he's said in a trauma room. "The coaches didn't really care, as long as we won than nothing else really mattered." His voice is getting angrier, like he's thinking back to every concern spun into a positive by a coach who didn't care about anything but stats. She puts a comforting hand on his arm.
"You did a good thing today, Carter. That kid is probably going to be grateful someone cared enough to make him see that he had a problem." He smiles, quickly ducking his head and shivering a bit.
"Damn, it's cold. What do you say we get back inside?"
"I'd say that sounds like a wonderful idea." They both laugh, jogging back inside.