ways_infirmary | (no subject)

(no subject)

[[ Before ]]

Ben guides Ellen in, and to one of the beds. "Sit down, please? After you take off enough of your... armor, so I can see all the bites?"

The professional environment helps, and Ben can focus on the work to be done. Slip in caretaker mood, while gathering the needed supplies.

The molerat head is set aside for now, but he will be back for it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It's integrated into the suit. The best I can do is roll up the sleeve and leg." Ellen does so, injured leg first. "I'm up to date on my tetanus immunizations," she notes, wincing as she pulls the fabric away from the edges of the sticky area, "but that one was still pretty deep. Worse than this one." She rolls her suit's right sleeve all the way up past her elbow to reveal a longer gash from the thing's teeth.

Ben nods. "Okay, after I finish cleaning up, I suggest you take a long bath and a change of clothes." The leg one makes him frown. "I think you will need stitches here."

First thing first, he will squirt distilled water around the wound, cleaning the area and examining for debris of any kind. A towel will catch excess water and prevent a mess.

"Blast. I was hoping to avoid that... well, if I get hurt again I'll worry about it then." Ellen shakes her head. "I'll have to mend the jumpsuit later. At least I've still got some spares I can use to patch it."

Ben sprays a bit of antiseptic, and more water, cleaning the wound carefully... then moves to the arm one, and then to her cheek.

"I can lend you some clothes if you need." The cheek scratches are wiped gently, daubed with more antiseptic.

"No, thank you," Ellen says. "I took three jumpsuits out of the Vault with me, and one of them got damaged along the way. I'll just use that to patch this one."

Then she holds still. The molerat's claws (she's still amazed that thing could leap so high) stung like the dickens when they struck, and the antiseptic isn't helping any- but she at least knows to hold still and keep quiet regardless.

He wipes excess with a damp towel, nodding. "Okay, cleaned up. You can take that shower, then I will stitch your leg." Ben takes off the latex gloves, tossing them and the used materials into a proper disposal bin.

"Where are the local facilities?" Ellen says. "Or should I just ask for a key to one of the rooms upstairs?"

Ben tosses her a key. "Use mine. I will be waiting down here." He needs time to find the needles and surgical thread too.

Ellen catches the key out of midair- she's good at that- and nods. "Thank you," she says.

When she returns, she's clean and wearing an old but serviceable Vault 101 jumpsuit. The armored one is slung across her arm, along with a slightly damaged spare. "I used up as little of your water as I could. My hair was cleaned a few days ago, it'll last a little longer."

"I don't think water is limited here... but, thanks." Just in case it is. "You are from a planet other than earth, or something?" Ben indicates the bed for her to sit.

"Oh, no," says Ellen as she sits down. "Vault 101 was outside where Arlington, Virginia used to be."

"Used to be. How far in the future?" Ben has read enough to make some mental math and come with 'post-apocalyptic world'.

Even more after seeing the mutant molerat.

"It's not the future to me. I don't know when you're from," says Ellen. "But it's 2277, and the Great War was about two hundred years ago."

"2007, myself. It means I should have more 70 years ahead, if my Earth goes the same way." Ben shakes head. "Guess things are pretty bad there." He slips on a pair of latex gloves. "Okay, roll up your suit's leg? A couple stitches should be enough, maybe up to our if that much."

"I've lived in an underground fallout shelter virtually all my life," says Ellen with a shrug. She bends to roll up the trouserleg. "I'm only getting used to the surface world now. It's ... kind of strange up there."

"Dangerous and desolate? Full of crazy people and mutated things?" He is just guessing from movie scenarios, but... really, how wrong can he be?

First, a bit of local anesthetic, giving it time to go full effect.

"So far, there's been those things-" Ellen indicates the head. "And the giant ants, and the two-headed cattle. And, yes, some very, very bad people."

Mr. Burke goes in the same category as the people in the Springvale School. As for Confessor Cromwell, well, she's just leaving him out of the equation; he hasn't hurt her yet.

"And no ceiling or walls anywhere in sight, not anywhere."

"Must be weird, after growing up indoors." He nods, preparing the surgical needle and thread with practiced ease.

Ellen rubs at her face with both hands. "You have," she says, "absolutely no idea..."

Then she holds very still, because you don't fool around when someone's got sutures at the ready.

"I think I can have some idea." he smiles a bit.

Suturing is something he does well: four small stitches, to hold skin and muscle in place, a daub of antiseptic cream, a gauze patch held with surgical tape, and bandaged over for safety. "Okay, this should do. Come back tomorrow and the next day to change the bandages and stuff, and the stitches can come out in a week."

He changes gloves. "Arm please." The arm scratches might not need stitching, but some extra attention is good.

Ellen very much doubts it, but she's not about to argue. Except that when she holds out her right arm she notes, "I have to go back tomorrow, I think. I'll try to come back if I can, but there aren't a lot of doors in the Capital Wasteland."

"Think you can find a doctor somewhere to remove the stitches? In a week they have to come out, or they will start to do more harm than good." The arm scratches get a similar 'patching', just something to protect the open wounds and encourage skin to knit.

Now, the scratches on her face are more tricky. He pauses to consider options.

"There's a traveling doctor who said he made some kind of a circuit in the Wasteland," Ellen says. "My father was a physician, though. I can remove them myself if I need to."

"Oh, cool. That should do, then." Hmm, a topical antibacterial and a light gauze patch seem to be the best solution, to keep the wound clean and protected.

"And, done." He nods. "I don't think your face or your arm will scar, but your leg... well, you will probably have a mark left."

"That's all right," says Ellen. "Scars happen. Thank you, um... is it Doctor, or what?"