Thor Odinson is a flummox. (thepowerofthor) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-12-17 22:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, leonard mccoy, thor odinson |
Who: Leonard McCoy and Thor Odinson
When: Monday, December 17
Where: Thor’s hospital room
What: During a routine, post-surgery check-in, McCoy has to swallow his pride for his daughter’s sake...
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
It was routine for the surgeon to check in with the patient after surgery. Thor had been fairly banged up, and McCoy was a little surprised that everything worked out so perfectly. He was probably going to make a full recovery, but it would take a while. McCoy headed to his room with a dual purpose. He was the surgeon on duty when the actor was brought in, and was the one who’d cut him open and fixed his insides.
He gave the open door a gentle tap with his knuckles, then slipped through into the room. “Mr. Odinson?” He asked, then picked up the clipboard from its place at the end of the bed and checked the notes that the nurses had been making. He was better with pen and paper clipboards than with the insane computer system that the hospital had instituted.
“How are you feeling today?”
“Awake. Bruised. Like a ton of metal and rocks fell on me. Tired.” Thor felt like he could barely breathe sometimes. The weight of his chest seemed to mirror the way he had been slammed into his seatbelt, something that could happen, they told him. The bruising, though faded, was spectacular, where not occluded by minor surgical scars.
“How are you, doctor?” His voice, normally hale and hearty, was thin, now, and soft.
McCoy gave a soft chuckle. “Fine, fine. Don’t worry about me.” He set the clipboard down and walked over to the bed to check Thor’s vitals himself. He wanted to make sure that the IV meds were correct and on the correct dosage, and that Thor’s heart rate and blood pressure were in the safe zones.
“You had quite a few pretty girls weeping at the prospect of your demise. Too bad you weren’t like Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn, watching your own funeral.” He spoke while doing doctor-y stuff.
Thor chuckled, then coughed. “No laughing... and I wish it has been that simple.” he shook his head. “Instead, I’ve been dreaming. A lot.” he shook his head. “And I heard people talking to me, and visiting me, when I was comatose. I heard, but couldn’t see, or do anything.” He shivered. “I was afraid, for awhile, that I would be stuck there.”
“Dreaming?” Bones asked, curiously. He was always interested to hear about what people went through when they were under. He nodded. Of course, Bones didn’t have the best bedside manner, so he wasn’t really sure what to say to that. “Well, you’re not. We made sure of that.” He said, then leaned over with a pen light to flicker in Thor’s eyes to watch his pupils react.
“What did you dream about?”
Thor hmmed. “Asgardians. And wars. And aliens. And falling to Earth.” His voice took on an odd accent, something between English and Norwegian, as he spoke, though it faded just as quickly.
Thor stared ahead as he checked his pupils. “Strange things, and weird memories, but then, I supposed after one had been exploded on and buried under rocks, one is bound to have weird memories.”
Funny thing was, those weren’t the strangest things McCoy had ever heard coming out of a coma patient. He gave a little chuckle. “No marshmallow cars and rivers of Diet Doctor Pepper? I think you’re gonna be just fine.” He said, standing up straight. He took the clipboard up again and jotted down some notes.
“I’m a doctor, not a therapist, but I can send one in here if you think that’d help.”
“Nope.” Thor squinted, and he chuckled. “No thanks. I think rest is what the doctor ordered, if I recall.” He grinned. “How long am I stuck in here, anyway, doc?” He was curious. he wasn’t sure how long he’d managed before he went stir crazy.
“At least a few days, probably closer to a week or so.” McCoy said, finally setting the clipboard down. “We’ve got to run some bloodwork, do some more tests, and there may be a follow-up surgery. I’ll have to consult with the specialist.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. “But I think your chances of getting out of here earlier than that are good. You’re healthy, and the first surgeries were a complete success.”
Thor nodded, listening. He had thought as much, but he had hoped for less. He had something to do, and he might have to sneak out to do it. Pain and all. He knew that wouldn’t be fun. But the hammer called to him.
Thor winced. “A follow-up surgery?” He paled and nodded slowly. “Good to know. I figure I’ll rest as much as I can to encourage that.” He smiled as sincerely as he could. And worried a little.
“It’s possible. Like I said, I’m going to consult with the specialist, to make sure that we’ve taken all the necessary precautions. When possible, I’d prefer to let the body heal itself, though in your circumstances I’m not sure that’s the best option.” He said, slipping his pen into his pocket.
“I have to admit, I came in here with a dual purpose today.” He said, trying to swallow his pride now.
Thor sighed, shaking his head. Great. More surgery. But he could take it, right? Right. He smiled at McCoy. then chuckled when the man said that.
“Do tell? What can i do for you, Doc? You saved my life as far as I can tell.”
McCoy went a little pink. “My daughter watched your show,” it was really hard for him to admit this part and to ask. “I would never hear the end of it if I didn’t get your autograph for her for Christmas.”
Thor smiled, a softer smile. “I’d be glad to give one for her. Just need something to sign, and sign with, and her name. I treasure every fan I have.” He chuckled. “I’ll never be a superstar, and that’s just fine with me.” He had no idea yet how much his image had been built higher by his little near-death experience.
McCoy nodded then pulled a page free from the notebook in his pocket, and clicked his pen on for Thor. "Her name is Joanna."
Thor smiled softly and carefully took the pen and notebook. With a flourish he signed and wrote a personal message to Joanna.
Dear Joanna, I’m signing this for what I am told is a big fan of mine. As for me, I’m a fan of your dad. Without him, many people like me wouldn’t be around any more. I hope you have a great Christmas.
-Thor Odinson.
He handed the notebook and pen back, feeling more tired than he liked feeling, just from talking and writing. “There. I hope she likes it. Hopefully she watches some shows a little better than the ones I usually end up in.” He liked working, but he had to admit that sometimes the writing on the shows he had been in wasn’t great.
“Thanks,” McCoy gave a soft chuckle, accepting the things back from him. “She watches crap, but that’s most of what’s on the television now-a-days,” he said gently. “Present company excluded, of course.”
Thor chuckled. “I’m honest enough to admit I’ve been in a few things that could be called that. Thankfully, the more influence you get, the better you can choose what jobs you take, but I still had to take that movie cameo last year, despite the movie being really bad. The pay was too much to resist.” He could be honest, and he lay back, glad for that.
“Hey doc, any chance a delivery came for me? My old phone was wrecked and I have some friends I want to let know I’m okay.”
“I’ll check in with the nurses’ station and send it in with them if it’s shown up.” McCoy said, pocketing the note. “You need anything, don’t hesitate to have them page me.” He turned to head out.
Thor smiled. “Thanks. I’ll remember. Be good to yourself. And I’ll remember.” He sagged back, yes already closing. For more dreams to come.
FIN?