Post by Amélie Grey on Mar 30, 2007 14:07:35 GMT -5
Amélie went into the room of her new patient, Ms. Estrella [pronounced Estreya] Eletta Amaya, who was fifteen, with a bright smile on her face.
“Ms. Amaya?” she said.
The girl scowled. “That's what they call my grandmother. My name’s Estrella. Use it.”
Amélie arched an eyebrow but didn’t pass comment. “Sure. It’s a nice name. It’s Spanish for ‘star’, right?”
“And Eletta is Italian for shining brightly. You speak Spanish as well as French?” Estrella said rudely.
“Why do you think I speak French?”
“Your accent. Well, either you’re French or you’re Canadian. You definitely speak French. You’ve got a French speaker’s mouth.”
Amélie raised her fingers to her mouth self-consciously. “What’s wrong with my mouth?”
“It’s French,” Estrella said. “French people’s mouths are shaped differently because of the sounds they make. They’re softer.”
“How did you work that out?” Amélie asked, flicking through her charts.
“I’m an eighth French. And an eighth Spanish. And my boyfriend’s French. Well, my ex,” she corrected herself. “Still haven’t got used to that.”
Amélie looked at the girl, who was now staring into space. She was pale, with an odd tinge to her skin, and with purple dyed hair. Her nails were painted black, and even in hospital, she’d lined her green eyes with a thick coat of black liquid eyeliner. “Were you together for long?”
“Eight months,” she said, then caught herself. “What’s it to you?”
“Just trying to get to know you a little better. Eight months is a long time. I haven’t even been going out with my boyfriend for that long.”
“You have a boyfriend?” Estrella said, her curiosity coming over her.
“Yeah, he’s a pathologist here,” Amélie smiled.
Estrella’s nose wrinkled. “Isn’t that a bit weird?”
“What?”
“Well, he’s touching you, and he’s had his hands on dead people all day.”
Amélie’s jaw dropped slightly. “Well, I’ve hand my hands in alive people all day. And isn’t that a personal question?”
“Sorry, I was just wondering,” the girl said, rolling her eyes. “God, talk about overreaction.”
Amélie grinned and put her stethoscope to Estrella’s chest. Her breathing rate was normal.
“Okay, I need to check your blood pressure,” Amélie said, gesturing at Estrella’s arm.
Instinctively the girl held her arms close to her.
“Estrella, I need-”
“I heard you,” she snapped. “Get out.”
Amélie sighed, “Ms. Amaya-”
“That is not my name!”
“Fine, Estrella, please let me check your blood pressure,” she said patiently.
“No!” she exclaimed. “Just leave me alone.”
As Estrella crossed her arms, Amélie caught a glance at them and understood.
“Fine,” Amélie said placidly. “No problem.”
Estrella glared at her as she left the room.
Dr. Sharp walked up the corridor. “How are you getting on with your new patient? Your first time with a teenager right?”
“Except for the drama queen who broke her thumb and reduced me to tears. She won’t let me take her blood pressure.”
“Why not?”
“Well,” Amélie corrected. “She won’t let me see her arms.”
Sharp frowned. “Self-harming?”
“The signs are there,” Amélie said. “And I know she broke up with her boyfriend not long ago.”
Sharp nodded. “Right, well, call Psych and-”
“I’d prefer not to,” Amélie interrupted.
Sharp raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Grey, what are you?”
“An intern.”
“What am I?”
“My resident…”
“Who has had more training and experience?”
“You.”
“So whose opinion is a better one on this?”
“Well, if it were as simple as that, it would be yours, but…”
“But what, Grey? Hurry up, I don’t have all day.”
“I self-harmed as a teenager,” Amélie said reluctantly. “The last thing I would have needed was to be sent to a shrink. I could find out why she’s doing that, and then we – you could make the decision. Just don’t send her to Psych straight away.”
Sharp shook her head, her honey colored hair moving. “Fine. Just don’t make me regret this.”
“You won’t,” Amélie said, as she went down the corridor.
She looked through the window to Estrella's room and sucked on the end of her pen. Maybe she could get Estrella to open up. Maybe. She reminded her a lot - too much of herself at 15. Too much. And if Estrella was like her...
She could get her to open up.
After all, why not?
“Ms. Amaya?” she said.
The girl scowled. “That's what they call my grandmother. My name’s Estrella. Use it.”
Amélie arched an eyebrow but didn’t pass comment. “Sure. It’s a nice name. It’s Spanish for ‘star’, right?”
“And Eletta is Italian for shining brightly. You speak Spanish as well as French?” Estrella said rudely.
“Why do you think I speak French?”
“Your accent. Well, either you’re French or you’re Canadian. You definitely speak French. You’ve got a French speaker’s mouth.”
Amélie raised her fingers to her mouth self-consciously. “What’s wrong with my mouth?”
“It’s French,” Estrella said. “French people’s mouths are shaped differently because of the sounds they make. They’re softer.”
“How did you work that out?” Amélie asked, flicking through her charts.
“I’m an eighth French. And an eighth Spanish. And my boyfriend’s French. Well, my ex,” she corrected herself. “Still haven’t got used to that.”
Amélie looked at the girl, who was now staring into space. She was pale, with an odd tinge to her skin, and with purple dyed hair. Her nails were painted black, and even in hospital, she’d lined her green eyes with a thick coat of black liquid eyeliner. “Were you together for long?”
“Eight months,” she said, then caught herself. “What’s it to you?”
“Just trying to get to know you a little better. Eight months is a long time. I haven’t even been going out with my boyfriend for that long.”
“You have a boyfriend?” Estrella said, her curiosity coming over her.
“Yeah, he’s a pathologist here,” Amélie smiled.
Estrella’s nose wrinkled. “Isn’t that a bit weird?”
“What?”
“Well, he’s touching you, and he’s had his hands on dead people all day.”
Amélie’s jaw dropped slightly. “Well, I’ve hand my hands in alive people all day. And isn’t that a personal question?”
“Sorry, I was just wondering,” the girl said, rolling her eyes. “God, talk about overreaction.”
Amélie grinned and put her stethoscope to Estrella’s chest. Her breathing rate was normal.
“Okay, I need to check your blood pressure,” Amélie said, gesturing at Estrella’s arm.
Instinctively the girl held her arms close to her.
“Estrella, I need-”
“I heard you,” she snapped. “Get out.”
Amélie sighed, “Ms. Amaya-”
“That is not my name!”
“Fine, Estrella, please let me check your blood pressure,” she said patiently.
“No!” she exclaimed. “Just leave me alone.”
As Estrella crossed her arms, Amélie caught a glance at them and understood.
“Fine,” Amélie said placidly. “No problem.”
Estrella glared at her as she left the room.
Dr. Sharp walked up the corridor. “How are you getting on with your new patient? Your first time with a teenager right?”
“Except for the drama queen who broke her thumb and reduced me to tears. She won’t let me take her blood pressure.”
“Why not?”
“Well,” Amélie corrected. “She won’t let me see her arms.”
Sharp frowned. “Self-harming?”
“The signs are there,” Amélie said. “And I know she broke up with her boyfriend not long ago.”
Sharp nodded. “Right, well, call Psych and-”
“I’d prefer not to,” Amélie interrupted.
Sharp raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Grey, what are you?”
“An intern.”
“What am I?”
“My resident…”
“Who has had more training and experience?”
“You.”
“So whose opinion is a better one on this?”
“Well, if it were as simple as that, it would be yours, but…”
“But what, Grey? Hurry up, I don’t have all day.”
“I self-harmed as a teenager,” Amélie said reluctantly. “The last thing I would have needed was to be sent to a shrink. I could find out why she’s doing that, and then we – you could make the decision. Just don’t send her to Psych straight away.”
Sharp shook her head, her honey colored hair moving. “Fine. Just don’t make me regret this.”
“You won’t,” Amélie said, as she went down the corridor.
She looked through the window to Estrella's room and sucked on the end of her pen. Maybe she could get Estrella to open up. Maybe. She reminded her a lot - too much of herself at 15. Too much. And if Estrella was like her...
She could get her to open up.
After all, why not?
