Chapter Text
Ogilvie stops Robby in the hall. "Dr. Whitaker is busy in North 6. May I present to you?" He asks. Robby nods. "36 year old woman with second degree burns on her right knuckles from accidentally touching them to the side of an oven. I provided treatment but she refuses to leave. She's occupying a room that more important patients could use. What do I need to do for her to go?"
"Slow down there, Ogilvie. I think your patient could benefit from a visit with one of our lovely social workers." Robby turns to Dana. "Dana, would you mind calling for Y/N? Ogilvie here needs a social worker."
Dana reaches for the phone. "No problem."
Ogilvie straightens his posture, eyeing Robby with eager curiosity. He asks, "Why are we calling for a social worker?"
"I think you can figure that one out for yourself," Robby replies. "Y/N is an excellent social worker, you might learn a thing or two from them." He pats Ogilvie on the shoulder before moving on to address someone else.
You make your way down to the Emergency Department and lock eyes with a tall young man who seems to be expecting you. "You must be Ogilvie."
"And you must be Y/N."
"Guilty as charged," you reply. He informs you about the patient as you make your way to West 13. Before you enter, you say, "I've heard quite a lot about you, Ogilvie."
Ogilvie's expression shifts to one of concern. "You have? What kinds of things have people—?"
You push the door open and greet the patient. "Hello, Mrs. Linfield. I'm Y/N, a social worker here at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center."
"You may call me Cathy," the patient says.
"Cathy. It's a pleasure to meet you. I understand you're having a hard time?"
"It's my husband, Andrew," Cathy begins.
Cathy explains how her husband of two years has become increasingly irritable. She recounts how he's recently began threatening her with physical violence.
"Shouldn't have married him then," Ogilvie not-so-subtly mutters.
You whip your head around and shoot Ogilvie a displeased look. "Please step out of the room, now." You say sternly without raising your voice.
Akin to a dog with its tail between its legs, Ogilvie's posture shrinks alongside his confidence. He nods and promptly exits the room, closing the door behind him.
You turn back to Cathy. "I am so sorry about his behavior. That was insensitive and out of line. I'll be sure to talk to him later about it."
***
After a lengthy conversation, you leave your patient with a list of resources. You exit the room and scan the area for Ogilvie. He's looking at the board, fidgeting with a pen in his hand as he shifts his body weight uncomfortably from side to side.
"Ogilvie," you call out to him. He flinches, then meets your gaze. He quickly stuffs the pen into his shirt pocket and hurries over to you.
"Yes, Y/N?" He looks at you in anticipation, knowing he's about to be put in his place.
"Dr. Al-Hashimi." You get the attention of the nearby attending. "May I borrow Ogilvie for a few minutes?"
"Sure, but keep it quick." She nods.
As you guide Ogilvie to the stairway, Dana chimes in with a smirk. “Try to bring him back in one piece, hun." Perlah and Joy grin at the thought of Ogilvie getting scolded.
After you reach the staircase, you turn to face Ogilvie. "What you said was completely inappropriate. I can't have you saying insensitive crap in front of patients—or ever, for that matter. You're not going to make it far in the medical field if you don't learn some bedside manners and basic empathy."
"I understand," Ogilvie says with a nod. After internally going back and forth, he asks, "Why doesn't she leave her husband?"
"It's not that simple." You sit down on the steps, gesturing for him to do the same. He follows your lead. "This is a nuanced topic, far too much to cover in too little time." You make direct eye contact with Ogilvie, causing him to widen his eyes a tad. "Have you ever lived in a household where you feared for your safety?"
Ogilvie frowns. "No, I haven't."
"Then your experience is not comparable to hers. Or anyone's. Even if you had experience with what she has, you'd still have no right to judge. Your job is to heal people and treat them with understanding, not judge them by the same high standards you judge yourself." You place your hand on Ogilvie's shoulder. His eyes widen as they briefly dart to where your hand is, then back to meet your gaze. "You can set standards for yourself, but once you begin seeing people as 'lesser' for not reaching those standards, then you've got a problem. Don't let it happen again, okay?"
Ogilvie nods a bit too quickly, his face pink. "Yes, understood."
"Let's get you back to work." You stand up and open the door for Ogilvie. Surprised, he mutters a 'thank you' as he walks through. You head the opposite direction, up the stairwell.
Ogilvie turns to look at you as you leave, unable to hide his admiration.
He returns to the main area.
"What's with the pink face, dear?" Dana asks.
Ogilvie turns red, eyes wide in embarrassment. "What? I guess I need a drink of water." He ducks away into the break room.
Princess cheekily whispers something to Perlah in Tagalog.
As Ogilvie nurses a cup of water, his thoughts wander back to you. Nobody had ever called him out in such an honest, blunt, yet gentle manner. Something about the way you humbled him caused him to feel dissatisfied with his poor behavior. Now, he felt oddly motivated to be better.
Ogilvie takes his last swig of water before discarding the paper cup in the trash bin. He feels a new wave of determination flood through his body.
He couldn't wait to see you again and prove that he was capable of change.