ways_infirmary | (no subject)

There's a short, scruffy guy poking his head tentatively in the infirmary. The expression on his face is remarkably like that of a misbehaving student called up to the principal's office.

Until he sees Zhaan, upon which a flicker of surprise can be seen crossing his face.

"Um, this is the infirmary, isn't it?" he says hopefully. Blue people, hokay. It's Milliways, roll with it...

"Yes, it is," Zhaan says, stepping the rest of the way out of the office doorway. "Do you require any help?"

She's used to getting that kind of look from humans around here. It doesn't phase her any more.

Hey, he's fresh outta the Vault. A lot of things surprise him.

"I, um. I got right shoulder slashed opena few days ago. It was looked at by a local healer, but..." he winces. "It's inflamed, aching and hot to the touch. I think it's gotten infected."

Zhaan nods sympathetically. She moves over to one of the examination beds and pats it. "Sit down," she says. "Can you unzip the top of your garment, please?" She'll help remove it: with that kind of wound, taking one's shirt off can hurt quite a bit.

Weasel sits, and with Zhaan's help, gingerly takes his top off.

The gash on his shoulder is about the half the length of a human forearm, and the flesh has been torn, not cut cleanly. But the physical damage looks worse than it actually is; it's shallow and hasn't severed anything critical.

It's been stitched, and, if Zhaan can read things from others handiwork, the stitches were done by someone reasonably well trained but lacking in decent medical resources. It's rough, in other words.

It's also showing signs of serious infection. Weasel's lucky he hasn't got blood poisoning yet.

"I'll need to remove these stitches," Zhaan says apologetically. "I'll give you a topical anesthetic first." She'll have to stitch it again. Normally she'd use the skin fuser, but that's not a good idea with an infection.

She goes to the cabinets and gets out the medicines she will need, then puts on a pair of gloves. This is more for Weasel's comfort than her own: viruses and bacteria that can infect her species are vanishingly rare.

"Remain still, please," Zhaan says as she approaches Weasel with an open jar of salve in one hand. "This may hurt when I apply it, but it will quickly numb the wound." She dips the fingers of her other hand in the jar and starts spreading the salve in a generous layer on Weasel's injured shoulder. It might be uncomfortable at the outset, but the salve's cooling and numbing effect will set in promptly.

Ah, but stitches leave scars, and everyone knows that chicks dig scars. Besides, Weasel doesn't know about the existence of the skin fuser, so as far as he's concerned it's to be expected.

It does sting at first, and Weasel hisses a little, but that's mostly because he's completely chicken when it comes to pain. The anesthetic kicks in quickly, though, and he soon relaxes.

Zhaan gently prods the wound a few times to make sure the anesthetic has taken effect, then gets a sponge, soaks it and applies some soap. She gently cleanses the wound, then gets some tweezers and small scissors to remove the old stitches. "Please hold still. You shouldn't feel any pain, but I don't want to make this worse than it already is."

He'll hold still. He does tend to yammer when he's nervous, though, so Zhaan may have to tell him to hush and let her concentrate.

"So, I'm trying to think of a way to phrase this that doesn't sound totally rude, especially since you're helping me out, and I just want you to know I'm really only curious, but, um...I couldn't help noticing that you're blue."

Zhaan chuckles. "I'm a Delvian," she says. "I come from a world a long way from Earth." She snips the last stitch and then starts using the tweezers to pull out the thread. Fortunately the wound is healed enough that it doesn't start bleeding, but only just. She'll need to put her own stitches in to keep that from happening.

"A Delvian?" Oh, Weasel loves his questions. He's always got so many of them.

"So how'd you wind up being the house doctor in the bar at the end of the universe? Are there many of your species here?"

"I am the only one," Zhaan says. "I came here in much the way most other patrons do - unexpectedly. I was a doctor and a priest in my universe. People do not generally need priests of my religion here, but they do need doctors."

She would normally say that she ended up here after dying, as some patrons do, but she's not sure how Weasel will react, and she'd rather not have him making any sudden moves while she's working on his injury.

"That must get a very lonely." Weasel is silent for a minute.

"I noticed the bar's patrons tend towards being human. Did you have much exposure to them before you came here, or was that something else you had to get used to?"

It's probably wise, at this point. No-one's told Weasel yet that the dead frequent the bar.

"I only ever met one human before I came here," Zhaan says. "He arrived in my area of the galaxy by accident. Although I did have frequent contact with a species that is similar in appearance and biology, and I have gotten used to humans since I arrived." She pulls out the last of the stitches, then gets a cold pack. "You're going to feel something cold on your shoulder in a moment," she warns, "although the anesthetic will dull it. I want to bring the swelling down before I put in new stitches."

"That's some accident," Weasel snorts.

He's going to be quiet for a minute now. Between the cold pack and the salve, this is the least painful his shoulder has been all week. Excuse him while he enjoys the sensation.

Zhaan's as comfortable with silence as she is with Weasel's questioning. She holds the cold pack in place for a time, then removes it. The salve she put on helps with inflammation too: the pack just sped up the effect a bit.

The wound is now looking less angry, red and puffy. Zhaan cleans it again with a smaller sponge held in a pair of tweezers, applies another salve - this one is a strong disinfectant, and would sting if not for the anesthetic - then gets a sterilized curved needle and some fiber thread. She starts re-stitching the wound. Weasel will feel a little pulling from the needle and thread, but no pain.

It's a strange sensation, but logical, when Weasel thinks about it. After all, just because that area's numb doesn't mean it's not connected to parts that aren't.

"That's just plain weird, feeling the pull but not the pain," he says, just to fill up the air. "I can't decide whether it's worse or better because I can't see what's going on."

There's a grin that Zhaan won't be able to see. "I was unconscious when the last set of stitches went in, so this is my first experience with them."

"You might be better off not seeing it," Zhaan says. "It looks like it would be rather painful without anesthetic." She finishes the stitches and ties them off. "There. I'm going to put a bandage on this and give you some antibiotics - be sure to take them as directed. And take them all, even after you start feeling better. Otherwise the infection may return," she says.

Zhaan gets a gauze pad and a bandage. She adjusts Weasel's arms so she can wrap them correctly. "You will need to cover up the bandage to bathe. I can get you something from the Bar for that purpose."

"Thanks for that," Weasel replies. "And don't worry, I've learned my lesson about not listening to the doctor's orders."

Zhaan's grateful for that. She's had some patients who seemed determine to hurt themselves in spite of her best efforts.

She goes back to the cabinets and starts taking things out, including a tiny vial full of something pale blue. This she holds up for Weasel to see. "I should let you know," she says, "this is my blood, or my species' equivalent of it. It is very effective against poisons and toxins, such as blood poisoning you might get from your wound, and carries nothing that would infect you. But I will not add it to the medicine without your consent." Delvian blood is rather valuable where she comes from (a fact that has caused her species some trouble), but she knows humans might feel funny about taking it as medicine.

Weasel is thinking, uh, whut? and it shows on his face.

But she seems to know what she's doing, and really, you should have seen what Razlo dosed him with to get rid of the poison in his system. So he's prepared to take her on faith.

"If you think that would be best, then go ahead. You're the expert here."

Zhaan nods. She adds a few drops from the vial to the mix, which when it's all together takes up half of a plastic cup about the size of a highball glass. She brings over the cup and offers it to Weasel.

He downs it without protest, though he makes a bit of a face. The flavor isn't a winner.

Oh well. Water is wet, sky is blue, medicine almost universally tastes bad.

Zhaan takes the cup back from Weasel. "I'll get you some antibiotic capsules," Zhaan says. "Starting tomorrow, take one with food at the same time every day for ten days. I would like you to come back here the day after tomorrow - sooner if you have a bad fever, weakness or stomach problems," she says. She gets a large bottle and a smaller, empty bottle from the cabinets and counts ten pills from the former into the latter. "Also, can you tell me your name, for our records?"

"I go by Weasel, everywhere that matters," he says, as he gingerly does up his jumpsuit.

"Thank you for your help. I'll stick around in the bar until I'm due to see you again, then."

He pauses, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I never asked your name."

"Zhaan," she says. "My infirmary shift is in the afternoon, although if need be you can talk to one of the other doctors here - just ask whoever is on duty to check your record."

"Well, I guess I'll see you in a day or two, Zhaan."