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Being in triage is not too bad. Sure, it's mostly boring cases, the same old thing again and again. Chest pains, broken bones, bad colds, some of the more classic injuries. He would never admit it to Robby, ever, but it's been nice to get his feet wet in triage, to ease him back into the swing of things.
Which makes it ironic that the only way he gets back into the E.R. rotation is by injuring himself.
It happens so fast.
A patient that has been in a bad mood since the moment he arrived has clearly had enough of waiting, and he puts his foot out while Frank's walking past, and he takes a tumble down to the floor.
He lands awkwardly on his side, but something about the movement has him screaming embarassingly on the floor.
It's just his luck that Santos is the first one to rush to his aid.
"Langdon, where does it hurt?" Santos asks him, and if Frank wasn't in unbearable pain right now, he'd be telling her off for dropping the Dr. that's supposed to come before Langdon. Just to be a pain in the ass.
"Let's get him some pain management." Santos says to… Langdon opens his eyes, not even realising that they'd been squeezed shut. Dr. McKay.
Donnie stands right behind her, looking worried.
"No." Frank manages to grit out. "No opioids."
"How about-" Dr. McKay starts to say, but he just shakes his head. "Okay. Okay, no benzos, got it."
She winks at him.
Bitch.
Langdon breathes.
"Let's get you to C.T. and an Xray." Donnie says, stepping in.
"Call the police." Frank grits out, nodding at the guy who just sits there, staring at the mess he made. He doesn't even look apologetic. "Fucking tripped me."
"Are you serious?" Dr. Santos says, staring the guy down. "You know hurting our staff only extends your wait, right? What were you looking to accomplish?"
"Dr. Santos." Robby says, appearing like something out of thin air. Frank wishes it brought him any relief. "I'll take care of this, you and Dr. McKay can take care of Dr. Langdon, please. Donnie, you can keep looking at patients, I'll send someone to help you cover."
Bastard still doesn't look at him.
Frank lets out a long groan as they get him on a gurney.
Donnie gives him a passing fist bump before he goes back to work. Frank works his face into something like a smile at the gesture.
This is so fucking embarrassing.
Mel walks up to them as they roll him towards the elevators. "What happened? Dr. Langdon, are you okay?"
She sounds so worried, bless her.
"I'll be just fine, Mel."
Fuck, he should've called her Dr. King.
"You wanna take him off my hands, Dr. King?" Santos asks, already itching to leave. He can't even blame her. He'd probably do the same. Unless she had a complex break he could get in on, which he's pretty sure he doesn't.
He just hasn't gone through an injury unmedicated for… a while.
"Sure." Mel says, immediately. "Where are we going?"
"Xray, C.T." Santos replies, then walks off.
"She really doesn't like you." Dr. McKay comments lightly.
"I know." Frank mutters, breathing through the pain that's gone down to a dull thud now that he's laying still on the gurney. "Let's just get this over with."
"You got him, Dr. King?" Dr. McKay asks, nodding to where Princess is waving her over.
"Go." Frank says, waving her off. "I'm in good hands with Dr. King."
Dr. McKay gives him a look he can't figure out, then nods. "Alright, be good to yourself."
And just like that, it's just him and Mel.
He tries not to be too hurt that Robby isn't even checking up on him.
There's a line for the Xray that takes a long ass time, and he's half asleep by the time it's his turn. He gets it, his injury isn't as severe as the ones he's seen come through.
The C.T. takes a bit longer.
"Do you want some Ibuprofen or Tylenol, Dr. Langdon?" Mel asks him, handing him some Gatorade. "It's better than…"
"Yes." Frank says, taking the offered cup. "Please."
He takes both.
She puts a cold rag on his forehead.
"You're sweating." She explains once he pops an eye open at her.
"Thanks." He mutters.
He wonders if anybody's called Abby yet.
He shudders. God he hopes not. The divorce is already humiliating enough. Abby got real mad once she figured out he'd been high for most of his time alone with the kids.
She's fighting for full custody.
The worst part is he can't even blame her too hard. He's seen firsthand how easily kids get hurt on an impaired parents watch. He'd probably be worse than she is about everything if the situation were reversed.
"Are you okay, Dr. Langdon?" Mel asks, looking at him with her head tilted.
"Fine." Frank replies. He takes a long sip of the Gatorade she brought him. "Just tired."
"I'll go check the results." Mel says, reaching out to give him an awkward pat to the shoulder.
He can't help the little smile that comes across his face at that. He awknowledges her with a quick nod and she's off before hes even dropped his head back down.
The pain isn't too bad once the painkillers kick in. Sure, its still painful, but bearable. Nothing like the time he broke his back.
He doesn't know if he could survive the pain of that again.
"It's a bad sprain." Mel says once she gets back. She shows him the C.T. results on her eyepad and the Xrays.
"Fuck." Frank says, staring up at the ceiling. "Just my luck."
"I'm sorry." She says, sitting on the little rolling chair, holding the iPad awkwardly clutched to her stomach. "What do you want to do?"
"I suppose I need to go home." Frank says, not intending it to come out so bitter.
Abby got the house. He gets supervised visitation until she's ready to trust him to be alone with the kids. Until she's sure he's sober for good.
He can't even have alcohol.
His home is currently a small studio apartment. The only thing he can afford. Hes got a shitty mattress on the floor, and a coffee table.
That's about it, if he doesn't count his closet full of clothes, and the kitchenware Abby was decent enough to let him pack.
He didn't fight her on anything except the kids. He's still fighting for joint custody. Fifty fifty. That's all he wants.
He may be a drug addict, but he fucking loves his kids.
Mel tells him she'll get Robby, tell him the news. He just lays there on the damn gurney (they were out of beds) and hopes this won't put him out for too long.
He really can't afford more time off.
Nobody here knows about his and Abby's divorce. Nobody knows where he's living, or how he's doing. The only person to come say hi to him while he was in rehab, was, oddly enough, Dr. Abbott.
It was only the once, though.
He sighs, staring up at the ceiling.
What is he gonna do?
"Dr. Langdon."
Frank looks to the side to see Robby standing there, shifting uncomfortably in place.
"Hi." is all Frank says. Awkwardly as hell.
"I'm sending you home." Robby says, and Frank must guess that he probably got some satisfaction out of getting to send him home early. "You have to take it easy, Doctor's strict orders."
Frank just sighs.
He knows when he's beat.
There's no use fighting it. He can't work like this.
He'll just have to hope he can make rent this month.
"Here's a prescription for non-addictive painkillers." Robby says, handing him the script. "Take them. I'll see you here in four days."
Frank goes to reply, but Robby's already walking away.
Figures.
The man won't even be here in four days.
He gets off the gurney with Mel's help. She helps him sit in a wheelchair, and when he says he could walk to his car with her help, she just smiles and says 'hospital policy'.
He rolls his eyes, and he will never admit just how fond it is.
She rolls him all the way out to his car.
He waves goodbye to Dr. Javadi and Dr. Whitaker, who both wave awkwardly back. Oh the days of being a new doctor. He probably took those for granted.
"Can you drive home alright?" Mel asks him after she's helped him into his car.
"Yeah, I'll be alright." Frank pats at his back, tries to hide the pain that flares up with a grimace. "Nothing an ice pack and a couple days won't fix."
"Okay, good." Mel gives him a one armed hug, and a pat to the shoulder. "See you in a few days, Dr. Langdon."
"Yeah." Frank replies. His grimace turns into a smile. "Have a good day, Dr. King."
She smiles widely back. "Thank you. See you later?"
"See you later." He confirms.
He watches her disappear back into the E.R. and he hopes the rest of her day is better than how it started. He'd noticed she'd seemed nervous earlier, and he hopes she doesn't have too much of a headache after that guy pushed her.
He drives home, knowing he'll probably pass out as soon as he crawls onto his mattress. Next time he shows up for a shift, he'll have to be more careful walking around the waiting room, already knowing he'll be exiled to triage for the foreseeable future, unless Dr. Al-Hashimi sees the talent he can bring to the ER at large.
He'll just have to keep hoping that things will get back to normal. A better normal.
That's about all he can hope for.