Chapter Text
Dr Mohan sighed heavily, feeling the weight of her job a little bit more as she contemplated what to do next. She didn't know how to make her patient feel better about his diagnosis. And if she couldn’t get through to a patient after her extensive time with them, she wondered if anyone could.
But she had to try. And she started with Dr Robby.
“He’s terrified. He wants to bail,” she admitted to Robby as she presented the case. “Kidney disease at his age is a life-long commitment. There’s drugs, dialysis, transplants and hospital visits. He's a sporty kid. It’s just...” she trailed off.
She half-expected Robby to tell her to focus on the clinical presentation, or just turf the case to Kiara. But Robby winced, rubbing his beard as he thought carefully on the case.
“Does he trust you, Dr Mohan?”
“I think so. At least, to tell him the truth. But he feels pretty alone right now.”
Robby nodded like his mind was made up. “Alright. Can you introduce us?”
She led him back to the bay, calling out respectfully before pulling back the curtain. “Manoj? Is it okay if my boss comes to speak to you?”
“Sure,” the college kid replied. His voice was a little bit tight, like he was holding onto control by a thread.
“Sorry to intrude,” Robby said. He took the rolling stool near the bed and stuck his hand out to shake. “I’m Dr Robinavitch, but please call me Dr Robby.”
“I get that. I’m Manoj Suriyanarayanan, so everyone shortens it to Suri.”
Robby smiled in solidarity. “You need to step up your game, Dr Mohan. You’ve got it far too easy.”
She rolled her eyes. “If we’re playing the privilege game, Dr Robby, I think I might have you beat.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. Listen, Manoj... Dr Mohan has told me that your kidney disease diagnosis has been a bit of a knock. Can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?”
“Pissed off,” Manoj said shakily. His hands pressed into the sheets, making fists. “Off-kilter. Surreal. Like my life is over before I’ve lived it.”
Robby nodded, waiting patiently for him to collect his words.
“It’s like, my body has betrayed me. I worked so hard to get this soccer scholarship, you know? To get into college. And now this thing completely out of my control... it sucks. I want to just go back to yesterday when I didn’t know.”
“All of that is perfectly reasonable,” Robby said in that calm tone that he used with patients and families. “Any diagnosis like this can feel unreal. It can make you angry, and depressed, and whatever you need to feel.”
“I’m just... I’m too young. Right? This shit – sorry – this stuff happens to, like, old people.”
Robby waved away the cuss word. “We’ve got an entire pediatric wing that would disagree with you, but I know what you mean. Can I share something personal with you? I think it might help.”
Dr Mohan frowned, but smoothed it away quickly. Dr Robby hated doing that, he hated it when his doctors got attached or shared too much of themselves.
Manoj just shrugged, not realizing how rare this was.
Without ceremony Dr Robby pulled up the back of his scrubs and his undershirt, craning his neck around to ensure his scars were visible.
And holy shit, there were scars. Surgical, but ugly and nowhere near the normal sites. He’d been stabbed first, Mohan realized with sickening clarity. It could have been an accident, but she felt like it wasn’t.
“I was about your age when I lost my kidney,” he said blandly. “My other one is on sixty percent at the moment. I get dialysis every few months. Pretty soon, if my kidney function doesn’t improve, I’ll have to go on the list.”
“Shit,” Manoj said. Mohan was thinking the same thing.
“So. I’ve been living with this for too many years – you're not getting my age outta me, but decades – but I remember being the kid in this bed, wondering if any of my dreams were too much for my body to handle.”
Manoj ducked his head. Tears were welling in his eyes.
“And I’m happy to report that I could do almost anything I wanted to do. Including running this ED. I was decent at soccer at school, not that being the next Messi was ever in my cards, but I promise you – it can still be in yours.”
“Messi sucks,” Manoj said with a small laugh. “But I get your point. Thanks, Dr Robby.”
“It’s still gonna be hard,” Robby warned. “I won’t sugar coat it. The drugs, the diet, the hospital, the surgeries. All of it will test you. But if you keep on top of it... I know you’ll do good, kid. You already have the drive.”
Manoj nodded. Robby pulled down his scrubs, clearing his throat. “Alright. Would you like to keep Dr Mohan as your primary physician? She’s one of the best, but I’m sure she’d understand if you wanted someone with some more experience being the patient or navigating the system.”
Dr Mohan nodded quickly, agreeing that it was Manoj’s choice.
“No, Dr Mohan is great,” Manoj said with an awkward thumbs up.
Robby stood, shaking Manoj’s hand again. “Good man. Here’s my card, if you have any questions or you want to chat. Oh, and one more thing...”
“Yes?”
“How are you going to fit ‘Suriyanarayanan’ on the back of a jersey?”
Manoj laughed. “That’s why you never went pro, Robinavitch. I’ll find a way.”
Robby saluted him and sauntered away.
Mohan stayed with Manoj for a while, glad to see that most of the tension in his shoulders had been replaced by determination and focus. He wasn’t going to bolt without understanding exactly what was in store for him.
When he was moved up to the renal unit for more tests, she cornered Robby by Central. He didn’t seem surprised by her approach.
“That was... very sweet of you,” Mohan said quietly. “And brave.”
Robby tried to shrug it off initially, his discomfort obvious to Mohan. “Just trying to up those patient satisfaction scores.”
Mohan raised her eyebrow.
Robby sighed, looking away from the board to match her gaze. “I was stabbed by a psychotic patient,” he said with alarming calm. “At my first residency. It’s getting easier to talk about it, but I’d prefer...”
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t say a thing,” Mohan agreed quickly.
He clapped her on the shoulder – something that he rarely did with her – and walked away to the sound of Collins calling for an assist.
She remembered how panicked Robby had been when Dana was hit by that asshole, and wondered if his stabbing ever haunted him as much as PittFest haunted everyone else.