[He could tell him about the parallels of sleepwalking, and how he read about a case in medical school about a woman who’d climb the tree in her front yard at night, perfectly balanced on every branch as she plucked its leaves off, one by one — all during a sleepwalker’s thrall. That waking consciousness doesn’t always need to accompany surprising feats of supposed awareness and dexterity.
But Stephen has a feeling he doesn’t need to make that point, that Jack is putting the pieces together himself even if his case is an extreme one. He’s patient, letting him sort it all out — until everything seems to take a sharp turn (car accident?), and he loses him for a second.]
[The absolute worst, and when Stephen’s already hooked his focus into one thing that’s clearly trying to slip away, he’s nearly impossible to shake off.]
Nice try, but that’s not going to work. What car accident? Did something happen?
Look, it's not- it's not important, probably. I just-
( He turns his eyes downward to the coffee cup, picking at the tiny sticker on it while he tries to find he best way to tell the story without... actually telling the story.
He's only ever told one person. It hasn't been relevant, except maybe now it is. Or maybe it isn't. Fuck, he doesn't know. )
When I first got my insomnia diagnosis, me and... my girlfriend decided to travel while I had the chance. It was really spur of the moment, we got in the car and just left. I hadn't slept in like four days, I thought, but I wasn't tired, so I offered to drive. We barely made it a mile out of town, and the next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. The cop said it looked like someone rammed me off the road from behind, but I've been- I always wondered if I fall asleep at the wheel. But it sounds like... I mean, if that happened, even if I did, I'd still be- aware? So it probably wasn't because of that, or- or maybe it was, or maybe I had insomnia until that happened, and then I stopped... being able to not be... aware, even when I fall asleep? Is that possible? Could it start as insomnia and then just... change like that?
[He knows it relates in an ancillary way at most, but Stephen has to make an effort to push his own experiences out of his head — a car accident that existed in a span of a few terrible moments, that shattered every aspect of his life as he knew it.
The circumstances aren’t the same as what Jack’s telling him, but the end result is always universal with tragedy: a turning point, for good or ill.
There’s a pointed pause before his reply, this time longer than usual.]
What I’ve diagnosed you with today… It isn’t an excuse to start blaming yourself for things that’ve already happened. I could theorize all day long, and I still wouldn’t be able to give you a one-hundred percent, for sure answer.
And even if I could, would it make you feel any better?
( One short contemplative pause, and then he sighs. )
Not really.
( You got him there, sage grand wizard doctor. Besides, even if it would, his immediate regret for oversharing is kicking in like a pissed off horse. )
Could you do me a favor and just... mentally scrub the last two hours from your brain and pretend I handled this in a way that was really cool? Something involving kickflipping a skateboard instead of feeling sorry for myself through text, and then... feeling sorry for myself faster?
[He’s a doctor, Jack. He’s was in the business of people oversharing with him, even if he feels badly equipped half the time to deal with it, outside of a clinical fix-all. And that’s not something he can offer this time — but he can mitigate the other man’s shame over something he can’t control.]
If you weren’t feeling sorry for yourself just a little, I’d be wondering if something else was wrong with you.
[So don’t feel bad.]
And I don’t know if it’s commiseration you want, but if you need to get it off your chest about… [Hand gesture. Awkward.] …bad car accidents, I’ve been there, done that. Even if the situation’s wildly different.
[“Just”. Should his previous self hear him say such a thing, he’d be obscenely offended.
The redirect is fine, though, if it gives him something else to mull over. Something to not hyper-fixate on the fresh revelations regarding sleep and brain issues.]
It was a combination of as many terrible things you could think of, all rolled into one. It was raining, nighttime. I was speeding and texting back-and-forth about prospective new patients.
[Well, going over MRIs, but same difference.]
At that point, you could say I had it coming to me. That's how I got- [He lifts his hands up, affording clearer view of faded scars running up and down his fingers.] -these.
( Just a neurosurgeon. Jack isn't, by nature, very expressive. Even so, there's probably something detectibly deadpan written in him somewhere. His mouth, his shoulders maybe. Oh, but a lowly neurosurgeon.
Raining, texting and driving at night. At least he wasn't drinking.
He blinks at the scars, apparently having gone the entire duration of their knowing each other without noticing them. Not when handed meds or scripts, not during the MRI, not while dying together a thousand times. Nope. Completely oblivious. )
Oh. Huh. Have they been there the whole time? ( Obviously they have, stupid. Come on. ) Neurosurgery must have been really hard after that. One wrong move and their brains are basically mashed potatoes.
( Dark. Inappropriate. Sorry, he's a little desensitized. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But Stephen has a feeling he doesn’t need to make that point, that Jack is putting the pieces together himself even if his case is an extreme one. He’s patient, letting him sort it all out — until everything seems to take a sharp turn (car accident?), and he loses him for a second.]
What car accident?
no subject
( He echoes immediately, unconvincingly, because Jack is fucking terrible at deception. Like, genuinely the worst.
Quick, change the subject. )
How are you? How's your doctoring going?
no subject
Nice try, but that’s not going to work. What car accident? Did something happen?
[He asks out of concern, okay.]
no subject
( He turns his eyes downward to the coffee cup, picking at the tiny sticker on it while he tries to find he best way to tell the story without... actually telling the story.
He's only ever told one person. It hasn't been relevant, except maybe now it is. Or maybe it isn't. Fuck, he doesn't know. )
When I first got my insomnia diagnosis, me and... my girlfriend decided to travel while I had the chance. It was really spur of the moment, we got in the car and just left. I hadn't slept in like four days, I thought, but I wasn't tired, so I offered to drive. We barely made it a mile out of town, and the next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. The cop said it looked like someone rammed me off the road from behind, but I've been- I always wondered if I fall asleep at the wheel. But it sounds like... I mean, if that happened, even if I did, I'd still be- aware? So it probably wasn't because of that, or- or maybe it was, or maybe I had insomnia until that happened, and then I stopped... being able to not be... aware, even when I fall asleep? Is that possible? Could it start as insomnia and then just... change like that?
no subject
The circumstances aren’t the same as what Jack’s telling him, but the end result is always universal with tragedy: a turning point, for good or ill.
There’s a pointed pause before his reply, this time longer than usual.]
What I’ve diagnosed you with today… It isn’t an excuse to start blaming yourself for things that’ve already happened. I could theorize all day long, and I still wouldn’t be able to give you a one-hundred percent, for sure answer.
And even if I could, would it make you feel any better?
no subject
Not really.
( You got him there, sage grand wizard doctor. Besides, even if it would, his immediate regret for oversharing is kicking in like a pissed off horse. )
Could you do me a favor and just... mentally scrub the last two hours from your brain and pretend I handled this in a way that was really cool? Something involving kickflipping a skateboard instead of feeling sorry for myself through text, and then... feeling sorry for myself faster?
( Because of, you know. The caffeine. )
no subject
If you weren’t feeling sorry for yourself just a little, I’d be wondering if something else was wrong with you.
[So don’t feel bad.]
And I don’t know if it’s commiseration you want, but if you need to get it off your chest about… [Hand gesture. Awkward.] …bad car accidents, I’ve been there, done that. Even if the situation’s wildly different.
no subject
Time to latch on to the potential redirect. )
I wouldn't have guessed sorcerers could actually get into car accidents. What happened?
ages later, i'm sorry
[“Just”. Should his previous self hear him say such a thing, he’d be obscenely offended.
The redirect is fine, though, if it gives him something else to mull over. Something to not hyper-fixate on the fresh revelations regarding sleep and brain issues.]
It was a combination of as many terrible things you could think of, all rolled into one. It was raining, nighttime. I was speeding and texting back-and-forth about prospective new patients.
[Well, going over MRIs, but same difference.]
At that point, you could say I had it coming to me. That's how I got- [He lifts his hands up, affording clearer view of faded scars running up and down his fingers.] -these.
i am slow as balls it's ok
Raining, texting and driving at night. At least he wasn't drinking.
He blinks at the scars, apparently having gone the entire duration of their knowing each other without noticing them. Not when handed meds or scripts, not during the MRI, not while dying together a thousand times. Nope. Completely oblivious. )
Oh. Huh. Have they been there the whole time? ( Obviously they have, stupid. Come on. ) Neurosurgery must have been really hard after that. One wrong move and their brains are basically mashed potatoes.
( Dark. Inappropriate. Sorry, he's a little desensitized. )