(no subject)
Part of the recovery process involves regular appointments with a number of physicians, both specialists and generalists, all of whom tend to profess themselves amazed and pleased at what they call an unusally quick rate of healing-- not unheard-of, to be certain, but still quite rapid.
For the most part, that is.
The broken bones have knitted, and the deep slashes in his chest, face, and throat have all closed, their raw red wounds fading into whitened scars. As a result, Gabriel's smile now is slanted and always will be, just as his voice remains a little deeper and rougher than it was previously. (It doesn't seem to have hurt any; several members of the media have already commented on how his 'experiences' seem to have given the Senator from Osiris more 'presence.') The bruises and contusions are long-healed, of course, as are the surface burns.
It's the internal ones that are turning out to be the problem.
"... I'm afraid you're not responding to treatment as well as we'd hoped." Dr. Vincent Navarro, chief of pulmonary medicine at the prestigious Geraci Medical Center on Londinium, clearly doesn't like having to give this news to his patient, despite the fact that Gabriel doesn't look all that surprised to hear it.
"Perhaps you'll enlighten me, Doctor." Gabriel Tam's gaze meets Navarro's, and there's a resigned sort of acceptance about him. "Just how well am I responding?"
A lengthy silence fills the room before Navarro says simply,
"You're not."
It's not as though he hadn't expected it by this point, but hearing the words somehow makes it more real, not to mention irrevocable. Still, Gabriel manages a nod as Navarro continues,
"At first we thought the burn trauma was merely bronchial and alveolar, as if you'd inhaled flame. Unpleasant, of course, but treatable. However, it now appears from the soft-tissue imaging scans that there's damage to the thoracic surface of your lungs and the surrounding muscle as well-- which, quite frankly, should be impossible."
A wry half-smile appears as Gabriel glances at him.
"Impossible or not, it's what I've got to deal with, now isn't it."
"Yes, well." Navarro studies the surface of his desk with deliberate attention, avoiding Gabriel's eyes.
"Vincent." He waits until Navarro looks up at him again, then asks, quietly, "What are my options?"
"Let me see if I've understood you correctly," Gabriel says, several minutes later. "If I resign from public office and retire to a quieter lifestyle, I can expect to live out the remainder of my days in relative comfort, is that right?"
"Essentially," Navarro agrees. "You'll need to take a few precautions and a greater degree of care in general, as you'll always be more susceptible to lung infections-- bronchitis, pneumonia, that sort of thing-- but it shouldn't be a significant problem."
"I see." Gabriel's not looking at the doctor now. Instead, he's staring out the office window, watching as ships cross the sky beyond.
Thinking-- and remembering.
(a lot o' folk might well be disappointed, if they saw someone else backin' out on them)
Eventually, he turns his attention back to the other man.
"And if I don't?"
The long hesitation before Navarro replies is a clearer answer than his words.
"I really wouldn't recommend that."
After a moment, Gabriel Tam nods.
"Wŏ dŏng." He gets to his feet, offering his hand and a crooked, cordial smile. "Xièxie nĭ, Vincent. I appreciate your time."
For the most part, that is.
The broken bones have knitted, and the deep slashes in his chest, face, and throat have all closed, their raw red wounds fading into whitened scars. As a result, Gabriel's smile now is slanted and always will be, just as his voice remains a little deeper and rougher than it was previously. (It doesn't seem to have hurt any; several members of the media have already commented on how his 'experiences' seem to have given the Senator from Osiris more 'presence.') The bruises and contusions are long-healed, of course, as are the surface burns.
It's the internal ones that are turning out to be the problem.
"... I'm afraid you're not responding to treatment as well as we'd hoped." Dr. Vincent Navarro, chief of pulmonary medicine at the prestigious Geraci Medical Center on Londinium, clearly doesn't like having to give this news to his patient, despite the fact that Gabriel doesn't look all that surprised to hear it.
"Perhaps you'll enlighten me, Doctor." Gabriel Tam's gaze meets Navarro's, and there's a resigned sort of acceptance about him. "Just how well am I responding?"
A lengthy silence fills the room before Navarro says simply,
"You're not."
It's not as though he hadn't expected it by this point, but hearing the words somehow makes it more real, not to mention irrevocable. Still, Gabriel manages a nod as Navarro continues,
"At first we thought the burn trauma was merely bronchial and alveolar, as if you'd inhaled flame. Unpleasant, of course, but treatable. However, it now appears from the soft-tissue imaging scans that there's damage to the thoracic surface of your lungs and the surrounding muscle as well-- which, quite frankly, should be impossible."
A wry half-smile appears as Gabriel glances at him.
"Impossible or not, it's what I've got to deal with, now isn't it."
"Yes, well." Navarro studies the surface of his desk with deliberate attention, avoiding Gabriel's eyes.
"Vincent." He waits until Navarro looks up at him again, then asks, quietly, "What are my options?"
"Let me see if I've understood you correctly," Gabriel says, several minutes later. "If I resign from public office and retire to a quieter lifestyle, I can expect to live out the remainder of my days in relative comfort, is that right?"
"Essentially," Navarro agrees. "You'll need to take a few precautions and a greater degree of care in general, as you'll always be more susceptible to lung infections-- bronchitis, pneumonia, that sort of thing-- but it shouldn't be a significant problem."
"I see." Gabriel's not looking at the doctor now. Instead, he's staring out the office window, watching as ships cross the sky beyond.
Thinking-- and remembering.
(a lot o' folk might well be disappointed, if they saw someone else backin' out on them)
Eventually, he turns his attention back to the other man.
"And if I don't?"
The long hesitation before Navarro replies is a clearer answer than his words.
"I really wouldn't recommend that."
After a moment, Gabriel Tam nods.
"Wŏ dŏng." He gets to his feet, offering his hand and a crooked, cordial smile. "Xièxie nĭ, Vincent. I appreciate your time."