Gray's anatomy reverse

That night, Lexie sat on the couch, feeling restless. The glow of the television flickered in the dimly lit room, but her mind was elsewhere. She’d read the same paragraph of her book twice and had exhausted her options for streaming. Just as she was about to get up and find something else to occupy her time, her phone buzzed. A message from Meredith popped up on the screen, offering a welcome distraction.

Hey, how are you doing? Mark still hovering?

Lexie chuckled to herself, knowing exactly what Meredith meant. Mark had been uncharacteristically overprotective since they returned home, which was sweet but also a little annoying. She typed back quickly, trying to convey her frustrations with a hint of humor.

Still here, still bored. It’s like I’m living in a protective bubble. He’s been treating me like I’m made of glass. You’d think I had a life-threatening injury or something.

She paused before hitting send, her mind wandering back to her leg. The reality was that her injury had indeed been severe, a complicated mess that had required extensive intervention. Lexie recalled the moment the trauma team had explained her injuries after the plane crash, the words still echoing in her mind.

Her left leg had suffered a tibial plateau fracture, a significant break involving the upper surface of the tibia, or shinbone, near the knee joint. The crash had caused a comminuted fracture, meaning her tibia had broken into three or more pieces. The orthopedic surgeon had detailed the extent of the damage:

“Lexie, you sustained a high-energy impact injury that led to a type 6 fracture, with severe displacement and a fracture fragment that was impinging on the knee joint. This type of fracture can disrupt the knee's stability and function,” he explained, maintaining a professional tone, although the gravity of her situation was evident.

To fix the fracture, they performed an open reduction and internal fixation (ORIF), which involved realigning the broken pieces of her tibia and stabilizing them using a titanium plate and screws. The surgeon had described the procedure: “We will stabilize the fracture using a 7-hole plate, placing 6 screws through the plate into the bone to ensure proper alignment and stability during the healing process.”

Even with the surgery, the complexity of her injury required a lengthy recovery. “You will need to remain in a long leg cast for at least 6 to 8 weeks post-op to allow the comminuted fracture to heal properly,” the doctor had advised. “This cast will immobilize your knee and ankle joints, preventing any unnecessary movement that could jeopardize the healing process.”

In addition to the cast, Lexie had to rely on crutches for mobility. The doctor explained, “Because of the instability caused by the fracture, using crutches will help offload weight from the injured leg, allowing you to move around without putting any pressure on the healing bone.”

She remembered the instructions given for using crutches effectively: “Keep your weight on your arms, and avoid leaning on the injured leg. Remember, you need to ensure that your left leg remains completely weight-bearing for at least the next month.”

It all felt so complicated. Lexie sighed, her gaze drifting to her cast, the heavy material a constant reminder of the injury she was still recovering from. Even though her ribs had healed well, the leg injury overshadowed her progress. The cast itself was cumbersome, restricting her movement and often making her feel clumsy.

Just then, her phone buzzed again.

You’ll be back to your normal self in no time. Remember, we’ve got that double date planned!

Lexie smiled at Meredith’s message. Despite her frustrations with Mark’s protectiveness, she appreciated the support and was looking forward to the outing.

I can’t wait! But I might need a little help getting ready. Maybe I should invest in a magic wand to do my hair while I sit here like a princess!

She hit send, chuckling to herself. As much as she hated being immobile, she knew she wouldn’t be alone in this journey. She had her family, her friends, and most importantly, Mark—who, despite his hovering, had proven to be an unwavering source of support.

Suddenly, she heard Mark’s footsteps approaching from the kitchen, his voice breaking her train of thought. “Hey, Lex, are you still awake? I made some tea. Want some?”

“Sure!” she called back, grateful for the small comfort of his presence. Even if he was being overly cautious, she couldn’t deny that having him around made the days more bearable.

As he entered the living room, balancing two mugs, she felt a surge of warmth and gratitude for his concern. “You know,” she began, trying to lighten the mood, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were more scared of my leg than I am.”

Mark chuckled, setting the mugs on the coffee table. “Can you blame me? I just want to make sure you don’t rush into anything. The last thing I want is for you to re-injure yourself.”

Lexie smiled, touched by his concern. “I promise, I’m taking it easy. Just… a little less hovering would be nice.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin forming. “No promises. My job is to look out for you. Even if that means carrying you around and making you sit on the couch all day.”

As they settled back into their evening routine, Lexie couldn’t help but feel grateful for the care surrounding her, even if it sometimes felt stifling. The challenges ahead loomed large, but with Mark by her side, she felt ready to face them head-on, one crutch at a time.