In my care-A Matt Smith Fanfic

My discovery

I volunteer at the hospitlal on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays; when I'm not working those particular days.

Most days are quite normal for my usual things that I do in the comotose wards, placing flowers on the tables, dumping garbage, that sort of thing. And the people I see are everyday people as well, so it was a shock when I saw who was there that fated Saturday morning; I was cleaning his room, not noticing who was in the room, until I looked up. I wanted to scream when I saw him, but knowing it would alert the other nurses and cause a stir out of nothing, I decided against it and just stood there as I stared at the patient in the bed.

I was flabbergasted. I couldn't believe it was him, connected up to all these monitors, via all these wires and cables, wearing a hospital gown. He looked like an injured army veteran with his shaved head, and the sight of him with the feeding tube in his mouth just floored me a bit. Just to see if anyone knew who he was, I had to ask about him. So I visited the desk clerk who was there outside in the rotunda of the hospital floor I was on.

"Hi, I was just doing my rounds and I happened to stumble into room 322 and notice a new patient." I started to the desk-clerk. "Anyway, what I want to know about the coma patient in room 322 is, who is he?" I asked as delicately as I could.

"A John Doe brought in 12 hours ago. He's lucky. Doctors said he suffered three broken ribs, a fractured wrist and ulna on his right arm and a busted hip and femur on his left leg. It looked like a hit-and run, too.  Any more time wasted before being found and he would've been a goner." She said.

"Okay, thank you." I said.

I couldn't believe it. I was completely shocked that I was the only one who knew who he was. Suddenly, I realized that I had to do the right thing and had to tell whoever handled his care so before I walked away, I approached the desk-clerk again.

"Who is he in the care of?" I asked.

"I'm sorry?" She asked.

"Who's his doctor?" I asked again. "You know, who takes care of his chart?"

"Let me see here..." she started skimming down the list. "Ah, that would be Dr. Abernathy. His office is in room 71 west wing E."

"Thanks." I said as I walked away to reluctantly, but whole-heartedly, inform Dr. Abernathy of the news. I went up to his office to tell him of the discovery I had made. I knew I had to do the right thing, although it was tearing me up inside. Afterall, it's not everyday I get to see Matt Smith out of place and in a coma in a hospital near where I live. Those were just the rarest things I've encountered. As I approached Dr. Abernathy's office, I knocked on his door. He was on the phone with his wife, who was reminding him to eat his bran muffin she packed in his lunch and when he hung up, he noticed I was near his door.

"Yes, what is it?" He asked as he signaled me into his office.

"Sir, I wanted to tell you something. Something important about your patient in room 322." I started.

"Yes, what about this patient?"

"Well, I know who he is."