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Post by Yinehi Dogwood on Mar 31, 2016 2:11:08 GMT 2
Today was basically like any. She took a day out of every work week to do clinic care, talking to clients and doing check ups, taking care of sex health, and doing pregnancy tests while appeasing the hypochondriacs. She loved her job, even when she had less-than-savvy patients. She was swift with them all, often hearing how she hardly made them wait. Mostly she was just able to stay on top of everything and didn't loiter much. She liked to perform in record pace so more patients could be seen. As it was, she was on probably her fifteenth patient by lunch time. With some reluctance and a lot of pressure from peers, she finally drudged off to eat at the cafeteria. Once her hospital food was placed into a foam container, she headed outside, perching on a stone wall built purely for eye appeal.
Eating didn't take much time, but she decided to give herself a break. She tasted every bite, taking a big breath of fresh air now and then. By the end of it, she felt rejuvenated and ready to put her hours in. Unfortunately, it wasn't to finish her day at the clinic. An emergency patient needed her attention, so she scrubbed up and scrubbed in, dashing to the operating room to work on a busted up shoulder. It wasn't shredded, but bones had to be put back together into proper places. It took a lot of work and a few hours. The person she worked on had apparently been shot for some reason or another. It did a number to their shoulder and she guessed they'd be out of work for awhile, which she was volunteered to announce it to them when they came to.
It was maybe an hour later when she decided to make a round to the person's room, not at all in any rush to give him the news. She didn't know if they were a cop or a gangster, but it sucked either way. People didn't tend to handle information about being out of commission too well. Her walk down the hall past the nurse's station was a slow one, allowing herself to be distracted a bit now and then. Inevitably, the door was there, though, and she had a duty to attend to.
 384 words || Any welcome! || Feel free to be the patient or a friend/family of!
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Mar 31, 2016 7:41:37 GMT 2
Elliot didn't like hospitals. In spite of being a so-called (read: self-proclaimed) tough guy, they gave him the creeps. Cold, dry places, too pristine and filled with the intermittent beeping of unfeeling machines somehow meant to make people feel better. He took to the halls of the ward, doing his best to avoid as much attention as possible before reaching the nurses' station. The sound of some medical apparatus' wheels squeaked over the linoleum somewhere down the hall. He stopped at the inpatient reception desk, quickly gave his name and the name of the officer he was there to see. Gunshot wounds were fairly routine (he'd been shot more than once himself). They were becoming more common at the present with the city's current state. This one must have been especially nasty, from what he had heard. You had to take care of your own. The nurse led him to a room just across from the desk, a dimly-lit room with a single bed. There were two smallish armchairs near the far window, but despite the attempt at a homey look they offered no appeal, no distraction from the fact that he was in a hospital, and hospitals were far from his favorite places. He did not sit in either of the chairs, simply stood with his arms crossed, back against the wall parallel to the long edge of the bed. He lifted an eyebrow as he studied the other officer's arm and shoulder, wrapped in a bandage that peeked from the sleeve of his hospital gown. He was hooked up to a monitor for blood pressure and heart rate, and a saline IV drip. "Jesus," he observed, with an undertone of the driest sort of humor, "that looks fucking awful." He tilted his head in the direction of the open door. "They should be making rounds any minute now." |
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Post by Yinehi Dogwood on Mar 31, 2016 20:10:00 GMT 2
There he was, the patient. He also had company, which always made Yinehi feel a little better. Hopefully it was someone the man was comfortable discussing this with. "Hello, John, I'm Doctor Dogwood, I'm the surgeon who fixed your shoulder. Would you rather speak privately or is it acceptable for your company to remain?" she asked.
Her voice was very soft without necessarily being quiet. She kept her eyes kind, her focus remaining on her patient without any distraction from Elliot. John assured her it was acceptable for her to speak with Elliot present, seeing as how he was his Chief. She nodded, mentally noting the status as an officer.
"Well, John. The bullet you were shot with shredded, so did a lot of damage to surrounding tissue and shoulder bones. I had to reconstruct most of your shoulder and part of your collar bone. You'll need a lot of rest at first, but you can go back to work if you are doing office duties. Obviously, no heavy lifting or using this arm for awhile, although you can continue to hold things with your hand as long as it's not heavy. You can go home later today."
Yinehi finally looked to Elliot and gave him a smile. "May I speak to you privately?" She wanted to stress some things about what he would be allowed to do at work and when. A nurse would do more explanation to the patient later on, before he left for home. For now, he needed to recover from surgical drugs and wait for someone to arrive to give him a ride.
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Apr 1, 2016 5:42:01 GMT 2
No sooner had he made his morbidly humorous observations than the woman entered the room; a doctor, going by her statement as such. Elliot gritted his teeth at her description of the officer's wounds. Despite what sounded like a pretty hefty amount of damage, he supposed John was pretty lucky, given the bullet hadn't gone any lower, any closer to his lungs or his heart. A shattered shoulder was going to be hell, though, and he was inwardly disappointed to hear that his subordinate would have to be off active duty for any length of time. The chief needed all the officers he could out there, doing the good work that the people were paying for with their taxes. He could not, however, legally force someone with such an injury to put themselves in any more potential danger. "Absolutely." He pursed his lips and, with a nod, followed the doctor into the hallway. Despite what he could describe as a positive demeanor about her, he was not looking forward to the news, but covered his distaste with a more-or-less pleasant expression, but arms still crossed. "Okay, give it to me straight. Bad news first." |
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Post by Yinehi Dogwood on Apr 1, 2016 6:01:43 GMT 2
The doctor wasted no time to get into the hall and closer to the nurse's station so the patient had no potential to hear the conversation. She turned to Elliot and examined his expression for a moment and sighed before looking down at her hospital-issued tablet. She gave a slight shake of her head and looked back at Elliot, obviously not feeling really ready to explain this in full details to someone.
"To say the damage was bad it putting it lightly. It was repairable, but the soft tissue involved was pretty messed up. I had to cut some away just to stick things back together cleanly. However, the worst part is in how incredibly weak his shoulder is going to be for the six months at least. There's a chance it still won't heal right, and make any field work impossible. I'm not saying it's a certain thing, but it is a possibility." she said, then sighed again, setting the tablet onto a desk and leaned against the nearly chest-high counter with her elbow. "More than anything, though, is you need to be sure he does nothing to risk his shoulder. One wrong move and he practically guarantees himself never working in the field again. No heavy lifting, no dealing with violent criminals, no chasing anyone. He's a pen pusher for the next several months."
Yinehi hated this part. It was fact and truth. She didn't go into such detail with the patient because nurses would, but she knew she needed to be insistent with his boss, because the boss had the most control over how much their employees did; even if the boss was the Chief of Police and the employee a street cop.
"I'm... I'm really sorry to have this news. I wish there was more I could do, really. Unfortunately, there's just only so much you can do. The body has to do the rest and the people around him needs to make sure he understands that."
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Apr 3, 2016 4:57:52 GMT 2
He sighed, obviously far less than thrilled. Sure, he had expected nothing less than for the officer to be out of active commission, but it didn't mean he was going to be openly accepting of that fact. Elliot frowned as the woman relayed the damage, thoroughly displeased, but composed in public company. "Damn. That's what I was afraid of." Despite gossip on the contrary, he did have the capacity to give a shit about the physical health of his subordinates. He paused for a moment to think, to reflect on all of it. Then he complained, "Doctor Dogwood," he said after a brief glance at her ID tag, "John is one of the best on duty. Are you sure there's nothing that you, or anyone else can do to speed up the recovery process?" But he knew what she said was true. He thought of his own past wounds, especially the shot that had just barely missed going right through his internal viscera. It had put him out of duty for quite a while, he didn't remember exactly how long. Long enough. The scar was still there above his hip, which when exposed took the form of a conspicuous indent in his skin. Having an officer out of commission fucked up his system. He shook his head, and swore under his breath. A totally selfish complaint, but he was too aggravated to reconcile it. |
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Post by Yinehi Dogwood on Apr 3, 2016 5:17:45 GMT 2
A look of concern crossed her face as he spoke initially. She truly wished there was more she could do before his healing process, but as it were, there might not even be anything to do after the healing process. Which of course seemed to go above the Chief's head like a freaking jet plane.
"Excuse me?" she said suddenly, her soft face hardening a little. She hated being firm. She understood reasons anyone had for wanting a faster and unreasonably miraculous healing process. However, no matter what they pushed for, she was not a god, she was a doctor. "Please, sir, don't force me to repeat myself. You heard me the first time and we both know you understood exactly what I said."
This wasn't shit she would put up with. She had patients to protect, including from friends, family, and employers. She sighed and picked her tablet back up and tucked it into her arm, looking at him with an unamused expression. He was cute, but hadn't made the best impression by asking her such an idiot question.
"Is there anything else you'd like to know or would like help with?" she asked politely, ready to walk away if he didn't have anything else to spew.
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Apr 4, 2016 6:51:13 GMT 2
He berated himself inwardly, slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned against the nurses' desk. Come on, chief, you know better. Indeed, he did know better, part from personal experience and part from just plain common sense (which had seemed to escape him for a moment there), to not doubt the advises of an experienced medical professional. He shook his head slowly for a moment, then shrugged. Way to go, Elliot. not your most impressive moment, there. (And she was pretty, too!) He lifted his gaze from the floor to Doctor Dogwood's face, which he could easily see was neither impressed not amused. He had just opened his mouth to speak when the familiar sound of his ringtone broke the silence (the theme song to Hawaii Five-O, don't judge). He quickly slipped it from his pocket and looked at the screen. His eyes widened just then, and he was quick to answer it. "Mackie. ... Checking on officer Stoltzman in the hospital. ... Right now? ... Oh. Shit. I'll be there ASAP." He dropped the phone from his ear and back into his pocket, turned to address the doctor again. "Sorry. Important dispatch just went out. I really need to go." He grabbed a stray piece of paper and pen from the desk and scribbled down a series of numbers. "My cell phone number. Personal. Keep me posted," he said plainly, emphasizing the urgency of his needing to go. "And don't give it to anyone else, obviously."[EXEUNT] |
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