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This is a first! I think I'll give this whole "write-in" thing a shot. But uh, try to keep itReisenable! haha holy shit that was bad.
Also bad about updating, etc. tell me if the medical stuff comes off as overdone/bullshitted.
[x] Get a grip and try to assess the situation. Where the hell am I?
…First of all, the steady beeping of that EKG is really irritating. It needs to stop soon or I’m going to go- well, I’m not going to go crazy, that’s complete exaggeration, but it’s going to really grate on my nerves. Not that I’m implying I want my heart to stop, either. Actually? Forget the EKG. That doesn’t really matter at all.
Okay, let’s try this again from the top.
First of all, what the hell happened to my clothes? This sure as shit isn’t a normal patient’s getup. I mean, the material is light and airy and I’d almost call it silky – but, uh, only if I knew a manlier synonym for the sensation than ‘silky’.
…That isn’t really the issue though. The issue is my things- where did all my things go? My cell phone, my wallet, that- that weird key, I guess- actually, patting down what feels like a pair of expensive pajama pants reveals that somehow the key is still in my pocket. That’s, concerning, but not really relevant to the situation at hand; keeping track of a key given to me by some suspicious witch of a woman wasn’t high on my list of priorities.
Taking another nap is creeping up the list pretty quickly, though- no, no, stay focused, if I keep taking naps like this I’m going to have bed sores the size of small island nations. Like Guam, or something. Wait, that’s technically a US territory and not really a distinct self-governing nation, so the comparison doesn’t really work…
Jesus Christ how much blood did I lose.
It takes a lot more effort than I’d like, but I brush off the thin sheet (blanket?) covering me and sit up, sliding- well, dragging, really- my legs over the edge of the bed. I feel the air hiss through my teeth on pure reflex. The floor is cold, god damn it! What is this, tile? Why don’t I have any socks? Right, hospital patient, some weird pajama getup.
The cold is kind of nice, actually.
So, okay, game face, I need to assess the situation and figure out where in the hell I am. I have my hunches, but… Never hurts to try and consolidate more information.
Cold black tile that looks surprisingly stylish. Sterile white walls. Patient bed (surprisingly nice one too), weird pajama getup (again, surprisingly nice), EKG machine- bandages all over my hand and stitches on my face. I’m pretty sure this is the nicest hospital I’ve ever had the pleasure of waking up in- there’s no antiseptic smell, it isn’t cold as hell, and from all appearances I seem to have a personal room.
Maybe the food will actually have some variety? Ha. Ha ha.
…How much debt is this going to put me in?
I scrub tiredly at my hair with the hand NOT covered in bandages and sigh, resisting the urge to pull it down across my face in some cartoonish gesture of exasperation– exaggeration makes the emotion feel farther away, you know? But as tangentially helpful as it is, I enjoy wounds staying closed and leaving stitches perfectly intact a bit more.
Almost against my will, I sag down into a leaden slouch, studying the patterns on the tile with half-lidded eyes- well, there aren’t really any patterns, just unfocused reflections of the overhead lights. Not too bright, not too dim, not irritating at all.
That EKG again.
Come to think of it, I don’t feel any leads sticking out of me.
Is it wireless or something? Maybe medical technology is more advanced in– wherever this is.
I wiggle my toes. It tingles a bit.
The whole world just feels… miserably dull.
And then a door I didn’t even notice before swings open on well-oiled hinges, letting in what appears to be some sort of fetish nurse with the best dye job I’ve ever seen. Really playing the part too, face hidden behind a bright blue folder, murmuring quietly to herself as she flips through some papers. Damn good acting for a call girl, actually.
I try to get a better look at her, bed creaking under me as I shift my weight around, and she startles slightly at the noise; I’m beginning to have my suspicions about it being an act. Slight suspicions. I’ll call it a hunch.
She quickly scurries over- why does that word come to mind at the movement- and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, setting the folder on a nearby countertop. Okay, hold on, that countertop definitely wasn’t there before. What is this? …She does have a nice smile, though.
“You’re already awake! That’s good.”
She grabs my chin between her thumb and index finger and twists my head from one side to the other (to inspect my injuries I’m assuming) and I stop worrying about her smile and start worrying about her freakish strength instead. I’m… not entirely sure I could stop her. Not without a lot of effort, anyway.
I’ve definitely got my hunches.
She pulls something from her pocket and lets go of my chin- what is that, some sort of miniaturized- and uses that free hand to hold my eye all the way open instead before shining a damn light in it. Yeah, definitely some sort of miniaturized ophthalmoscope. She got the other eye too, of course, before scribbling something down in that folder.
…That’s uh, that’s a lot of writing. And that EKG is still going in the background, Christ. I really don’t think I can take the suspense.
“How am I doing, Doc?”
She laughs and shakes her head, setting her pen down and closing the folder around it for some reason- maybe to keep her place? Nervousness? I really can’t tell.
“Oh no, no, I’m just her assistant.”
Really? Aren’t you doing a lot of work for an assistant?
"But to answer your question, according to your chart you were in surprisingly good health before this incident- no offense- so your recovery shouldn't take too long."
…None taken? How did you get my medical records?
“We've done what we could, but as we had no way of recovering it we couldn’t save your finger.”
–fine, but she won’t let me get a word in edgewise. And for some reason, her expression looked particularly shady when she delivered that line, as if she were hiding… was that guilt or relief? I- I’m not really sure what that might mean, exactly. Should I be worried more than I already am?
“Your blood pressure is still low so you're going to be feeling weak for the next few days. Try to keep strenuous physical activities to a minimum, and drink more water than usual. Don't skimp on any meals either."
…What the hell does that mean, ‘strenuous physical activities’? To a minimum, not avoid? What does she expect me to be doing here after I almost died in the woods?
Again, she cuts me off completely; in a nervous, hurried sort of way rather than with intentional rudeness, though.
“Now, did you have any other questions?”
“Why the hell do you have rabbit ears?”
The pause lingers awkwardly in the air, not quite substantial enough to be called uncomfortable silence, but not brief enough to be polite.
“...Have a nice day. The doctor will be with you soon.”
…How did she slip out the door that fast?
oh god damn it
[ ] Well, might as well wait warmly for the doctor.
[ ] Get up and take a look around.
[ ] SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP (destroy EKG)
[ ] Write-In