Darius Delacreaux (painkilling) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-01-08 21:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, cian wilde, darius delacreaux |
Just because you're not sick doesn't mean you're healthy. ~Author Unknown
Who: Darius & Cian
What: Fixing up Cian
Where: A clinic
When: Backdated: 1/2
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete!
Every time someone came in with the sniffles, a cough, a cold or a fever it put the white Mage on edge. Even with a cure in hand, and even with things seemingly resolved from the plague scare just weeks before it still was hard to get out of that mindset. It felt nearly impossible to reconfigure his brain from constant panic. The entire plague business had put him on the edge of a break down if he were honest and somehow - magically - Darius had been able to stop that, to miraculously keep himself together even though the constant reminder of his father’s dying face, the pain of reliving the hardest part his life had known yet and... His psyche had honestly begin to crack. Making it from day to day was a challenge. Each morning he woke up wishing that something would change, something within him would be better today than it had been the day before, that something… Then he'd drag himself out of bed, and begin going through the motions he'd become so dwell practice at: Get up, get clean, go eat, go to work, go home, go eat, go to bed.... Repeat. The world didn't feel real anymore, it all felt like something simply going on around him, like he was nearly outside of himself while still interacting with each part of his day like nothing was wrong at all. Which, speaking of... "Next." Came the easy call out into the waiting room. Cian entered the examination room with large, easy strides. He didn’t recognize the attending white mage, but that hardly mattered -- clinic visits, for Cian, were necessary evils to be crammed in between more important business. This had been the closest clinic to his last stop before lunch -- this, therefore, was the clinic he would use today. (He’d considered skipping it altogether, but pain two weeks after the fact, despite potions, was a decent argument for being cautious -- and the death scare had -- just maybe -- impacted him a bit more than he was willing to let on.) “Hey, doc,” he said, offering the man a nod. Pretty tall, for a mage -- taller than him, even. Kind of unusual looking in general, with his broad shoulders; most doctors he’d met were female, Hier aside. “Any problems you’re coming in for today, or just a general check up?” Darius motioned for the man to take a seat, and moved himself over to a supplies stand, picking up some basic items there were to be used. This guy didn’t seem too bad. No tenderness under his nose, no puffiness around the eyes or blush across his face. It was unlikely to be significant illness of that sort at the very least. He’d have to thank someone, somewhere for some small favor at least. Turning, Darius palmed the stethoscope for a moment, attempting to assure it’d be warm-ish before use. “My shoulder,” Cian said, rolling it as he spoke. The twinge was still there, and damn, but his range of motion was not what it should be, either. Not such a problem playing poker or doing paperwork, but that was hardly all he did. “Got kind of banged up that day the giant fucking desserts invaded the city,” he said with a grimace. “Been taking potions and I’m more or less good to go, but it’s still twinging off and on, and I’m getting damn sick of it.” He shrugged and said, “Hoping you can help me set it right.” His forehead crinkled for a moment as Darius attempted to take in any little details he could manage about the appendage. “Is it a pain issue, or a range of movement issue?” If it was related to the attacks, the white mage could undoubtedly guess that it could easily be problems with both. It sure as hell didn’t help him feel any better about how he’d fared during the whole mess. Admittedly, not that Darius had walked away scot-free either but….He should have been able to do more, to help more people, to assist in… Something. Instead, he’d failed, he’d stayed behind and barely kept the people around him together. How could he stand to call himself a white mage at all? “Mostly range of motion,” Cian responded after a moment of thought. “I mean, it hurts, too, but I can ignore that part. Haven’t tested the limits of bearing weight yet, though,” he added thoughtfully. “Been babying it a bit, but I’m about done with that.” He hadn’t needed his full strength in days, but that could change any day. This city was clearly going to hell with these endless attacks. If he weren’t so entrenched, he might have considered moving on (as it was, he stayed and reminded himself that there was money to be made in misery). Darius repressed a frown at the man’s answer. That sure as hell wasn’t the best way to go about keeping one’s health in check. Though, unfortunately, that was just the way some people were. It was frustrating, but… It came with the job really. Some people just wouldn’t listen to a Medic’s orders no matter what you told them. “The fact that you can move it means it’s likely not broken, but you could of torn a ligament, or ripped up the musculature. Pain on the scale of one to ten?” Stepping up, Darius moved to press the head of the stethoscope to the man’s chest. “Deep breaths in for me, yeah?” “Doesn’t feel broken,” Cian said immediately. At the next question, he had to think. “Two, maybe three?” he said at length. Realistically his pain tolerance was high enough that it might be an understatement, but the doctor hadn’t specified whose scale. “Mostly irritating as fuck at this point.” He barely held his tongue to point out that he wasn’t complaining about respiratory problems, for Faram’s sake -- from where he stood, the stethoscope was overkill -- but he took in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Good sign.” Was all Darius could manage in response for a brief moment. Though, considering all of the mess that monster had caused one couldn’t be too careful about what any patient might have, or not have, coming through these doors. Another upsurge of the plague, and the whole city might go under if they weren’t careful. Was he being over careful? Yeah, sure. Yet after the shit that’d just gone down who could really blame him? A brief listen was given to the man’s breathing. It seemed to be steady enough, no congestion or other odd noises, and the stethoscope was shifted to hang absently around his neck. “Ever pop it out of the socket before?” If the man had, and had set it wrong, they could be half the problem. Otherwise, it might just be as simple as administering a cure spell and sending the man on his way. “Been awhile since the last time, but I could’ve done,” Cian said after another moment of consideration, rolling his shoulder experimentally, waiting for the telling twinge (it came this time as it had all the others). “Would explain why the potions haven’t done shit to fix it.” Darius let a moment pass, the other man spoke, and a bob of his head would be the initial response to the patient’s words. It would make sense, low steady pain, still mostly functional for all purposes, hadn’t been cured by potions…. “Gonna have to pop it and reset it then.” The words were a statement, but at the same time also an administration to see how the man would react. If he was willing to go ahead with it, then they could get it taken care of probably in less than an hour for the whole process, if not well…. Then there wasn’t anything Darius could really do. There was no point in wasting clinic materials on someone who didn’t want to get better when the only thing that would numb the pain - but not fix it - might be regularly administered potions. If that was the way the guy wanted to play it, let him waste his own money, there were other people who actually needed this stuff. This patient, fortunately, wasn’t going to balk at that idea. Better an annoyance now than this protracted discomfort (and definitely better now than later, when his arm decided not to bear weight at a moment he most needed it to hold up). “Might as well try it,” he said gamely. “If it’s fixed after that, great, if not, guess I keep taking the damn potions. Personally, I’d prefer not to, considering they taste like sewage.” And anyone who claimed otherwise was lying. “I’ll put myself in your capable hands, then,” he said. “Alright.” Hey, at least this guy wasn’t going to be a bitch about it. Moving over to a cabinet, Darius retrieved the appropriate materials for taking care of an arm that hadn’t been set properly. Returning next to the other man, a strip of leather was offered up. “Gonna need you to bite down on that. Don’t want to have to fix your tongue, and arm.” It was the faintest hint at a joke, even if others might not get it. Seeing half the shit the white mage did on a weekly basis lead one to nearly needing a dark sense of humor at some points. “You better if it’s all done in one fell swoop, or you want a bit between the dislocating and relocating?” Darius had already stepped up, moving to take grasp of the arm, but had paused just short of doing do. They’d be better off having this all out before progressing with what was - surely - to be one rather painful affair. Cian actually chuckled as he said, “Doubt that’d be a problem.” But he took the leather anyway -- better to indulge this than argue about it, and he had shit to do today. He considered mentioning he’d had someone cut him open without anything like anesthesia to rearrange everything and heal him back up not so long ago and decided it wasn’t worth the effort. “Just do it, already,” he groused. “Not going to run screaming out of here at the first twinge, I promise you. Might as well get it done in one go, so you can get to the crowd waiting out there.” He barely held his tongue in check before he could point out, I don’t have all day, and I don’t need to be babied. Guy wanted to get this shit done. Not that Darius could really blame him, in fact he respected it a bit. A nod of of his head was offered with an absent “Alright” before the white mage’s hands came to rest on the other man’s arm, and shoulder. One - slightly hard - motion dislocated the shoulder, setting the ball and socket joint out of line, before with another - just as hard - shift relocated the joint. Taking a moment, fingers carefully trailed over the area to assure nothing felt drastically out of place. Being quickly assured they he hadn’t terribly fucked the man’s shoulder over, a sling that had been brought over from the cabinet was retrieved. “I’d suggest you wear this for the night and pop back into the clinic in the morning. It’ll be sore but if that twinge is gone, then you’re probably good for a cure by the morning attendee.” If help seemed needed, it would easily be offered in getting the sling on. “They’ll fix you right up if that’s all it needs.” Hopefully, this would be one more patient out the door. Heaven and all above this clinic sure had enough of them. Cian grunted, but that was all the outward reaction he would show to the pain. Hard to tell if it’d done anything, but at least it was a different kind of hurt, which was almost a relief in a strange sort of way. “Yeah,” he said, “sure, I’ll stop by.” If it still hurts, he added silently. Because if it didn’t, why bother with the doctor? He took the sling, putting it on himself, and said, “Thanks, doc. Good luck with the rest of your day.” He was already pulling off the sling as he walked out the clinic door, though. Hard to fly a bike with a sling on, after all. |