The Broken Hand
Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity. ~ Hippocrates
OOC Date: November 23, 2009
IC Date: Day 17, Month 4, Turn 21
Who: P'ax, Gabrion
Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
P'ax comes into the infirmary with a broken hand, and Gabe helps to patch him up. His bedside manner may leave something to be desired. Nonetheless, the encounter ends with an invitation... which Gabrion doesn't follow up on.
P'ax stalks in looking none too particularly happy, his hand curled up against his stomach. It doesn't look particularly happy, either. In fact, it looks like it might be broken. He scuffs to a stop in fromt of Gabe and stares down at him, waiting silent and glowering to be noticed.
Gabrion hears the stalking, but he finishes the sentence he's on before dropping his feet to the floor and transferring the book to his desk. His coolly professional expression vanishes in favor of deep concern the moment he realizes who it is. "P'ax!" he says anxiously. "Are you all right?" He holds out both his hands and crooks his fingers, beckoning for P'ax to give him his injured hand.
"I'm fine. My hand had a fight with a wall," states P'ax flatly, adding, "The wall won." He offers his hand out with cool disinterest into Gabe's for inspection.
Gabrion sucks in a breath through his teeth as he gently takes P'ax's hand. He probes at the flesh with a finger, not hard, but still it's got to hurt. "Some swelling," he says, worry warring with an attempt at clinical detachment. "Might be a broken bone or two. Why did you hit a wall?" Worry, apparently makes him a scold. He frowns faintly, but says, "C'mon back. Keep your hand relaxed. I'll get some ice for you and send for the journeyman. If you broke bones, we have to make sure they're set properly and get you in a cast." He releases the greenrider's hand and leads the way to one of the patient cubicles.
P'ax's mouth puckers sourly at the worrying and scolding, or maybe it's just an attempt not to flinch or wince at the probing fingers. "Because I didn't want to punch B'tal in the face." Why else would you hit a wall, really. He follows along behind the apprentice but his face pulls sideways. "Uh, can't you just bandage it?"
"I could," Gabe says, matter-of-fact, "but if there are broken bones, and they're not set right, you could get permanent damage, or an infection, or..." he realizes P'ax probably doesn't need all the gory details. "It just wouldn't be good. We'll numb you up after the journeyman examines you. But you have to be able to tell him where it hurts exactly." Which probably means more poking. "Next time you should probably go for the face," he says, as he retrieves a block of ice the size of a bar of soap from an icebox, and puts it into a small cloth bag. He uses a metal tool, with much banging, to crush the ice, and then hands the resulting soggy ice pack to P'ax. "Five minutes on, five minutes off," he instructs. "It'll bring the swelling down. Let me go find someone to run for the journeyman." Off he goes into the back, and emerges a few minutes later with a tall young man who wordlessly heads out of the infirmary and down a corridor.
P'ax continues to look sour over the whole ordeal. "Next time I'll just give him what he really deserves." He accepts the ice pack and puts it against his hand, pouting like a child in silence while he's alone.
Gabrion sits down to wait with P'ax, once he's sent off the messenger, but this has him raising an eyebrow. "What'd he do to get you so upset?" he asks casually.
P'ax breaths in slowly through his nose. "Kind of a long story. Short end would be he thought it would be funny to tease me." He looks over at Gabrion. "Should have just..." he trails off and shakes his head.
"Faces are softer than walls," Gabrion says quietly, his lips twisting in a strange half-smile. "All the same. Thought you two were friends."
P'ax glances down at his hand, moving the ice off of it for a little while and setting it beside him on the cot. "He was being an asshole, sure. Doesn't mean I wanted to black his eye or break his nose for it." He jams his tongue into one cheek. "I was not really myself, anyway. I'm not too good at this monogamy thing."
Gabrion laughs, though he bites down on it quick, like he didn't mean to. "Since when are you monogamous?" he asks. "And isn't B'tal living with W'chek now?" He tries to keep up with these things, certainly. The tall messenger boy comes back into the infirmary, just then, and says to the pair of them, "Journeyman'll be here in five minutes."
P'ax exhales. "Since I started dating E'dre. /Trying/ to be, I mean. My success has been limited. On the one hand, I haven't screwed anyone else...on the other...I can't say it's good for my health." After a moment of staring at his hand he adds, "And this hand was all that's keeping me from going nuts." Poor baby, time to learn to be ambidexterous. "Oh joy," this tacked on sarcastically when the tall boy returns to inform them of the Journeyman's imminent arrival.
Gabrion snickers at the hand joke, though he does give P'ax a dirty look for being rude to the messenger. "Thanks," he calls over to him, but doesn't leave the cubicle. "Didn't know you were dating E'dre. Who's E'dre?" he asks, with a hint of sharpness in his voice.
P'ax shrugs his shoulders, unperturbed by Gabe's sharp look. "E'dre's a rider." Obviously. "Brown Wroth's." On goes the ice again. "Why?"
"Just wondering," Gabe says. "He the one who caught Yyth?" he asks, nose turned up slightly. And, since the healer will be here any minute, it occurs to him to start putting things in order on the nearby table. Clothing for bandaging. A numbweed pot. Some unidentifiable paste-like stuff.
"Uh-huh," drawls P'ax like he's not fooled for an instant by Gabe's casual interest act. He watches everything being laid out with a grimace. "Huh? Er.. no. We started dating, uh, before Yyth went up, anyway. No...Yyth prefers bronzes. If you see a bronzerider with a black eye though...that's the guy who won."
"Do you punch everyone who sleeps with you?" Gabe can't help asking; it's the smartass in him coming out. Just on the heels of that question, the healer journeyman walks in the door and heads for the occupied cubicle. "Hello there," she says amiably to P'ax. "So sorry to keep you waiting. What have we got here?"
"I didn't punch him," says P'ax defensively. "I put my elbow into his eye on accident trying to roll over... I think." Little fuzzy on the details. He glances up at the healer and just lets out a sigh. "I broke my hand," he offers sullenly, like a naughty child owning up to being bad for the millionth time.
The healer journeyman doesn't bat an eye at the elbow-in-the-eye tale. "Let's have a look," she says to P'ax, giving a grateful nod to Gabrion as she reaches for the greenrider's hand. "I see you've got the plaster out. What'd you think?" Gabe swallows nervously, and says, "Fractured first metacarpal. I think. Maybe the second, too?" The healer is poking at P'ax's hand to see for herself. "This hurts, I know," she says apologetically. "Tell me if you feel a sharp pain. Here? Here?" she prods at different places on his hand.
P'ax levels a look at the healer while she's poking around. "I broke it three days ago, lady. I'd say it's all more of a 'dull roar' at this point." So philosophical about the whole thing. "I was hoping I'd just cracked my knuckles good, but.." he makes a vague motion with the other hand, the one still holding the ice, and lets it fall to his lap again.
The healer frowns at P'ax, and Gabrion looks aghast. "Three days ago?" she repeats. "I wish you'd come in sooner, rider. I'd hate to have to re-break the bones in your hand. If this were to heal poorly your use of your hand could be impaired permanently. But luckily," she says as she gives him a particularly hard poke in a particularly painful spot, "they seem to have begun knitting correctly. You'll need a cast to immobilize the hand." She motions to Gabrion, who picks up the bandaging cloth and approaches.
P'ax looks more or less unphased by the scolding, mouth twitching at the hard poke. "You know, funny thing, when you start cutting up animals and playing with their bones, you learn a thing or two about how to set them." His head turns to watch Gabrion instead of the healer journeyman. "How long will I have to wear that?"
"Depends," Gabrion answers. "Anywhere from two to six weeks." He looks at the journeyman for confirmation, and she nods. "Two weeks at the very least," she agrees. "We'll want to see you back here then to check up on it." Gabrion holds out his hand for Pax's again, so that he can wrap it in cloth.
P'ax makes a non-committal grunting sound near the back of his throat and holds his hand out to be bandaged. "Sure, sure, two weeks." He abandons the ice to melt beside him on the bedding and scratches his head lazily.
"But if it hurts a lot, or if you feel something drippy inside the cast, or really just anything that seems not-quite-right, you have to come back right away," Gabrion admonishes him. "Once, there was this guy who broke his wrist, and it got infected inside the cast but he didn't know it, so when they took the cast off it was all swollen and gross, it was..." he's all set to describe the sight with relish, but a cleared throat from the journeyman shuts him up, and he concludes, "Anyway, so if anything weird happens, you come back right away." The journeyman says, "The plaster is ready, Gabrion. Let's see how you've done at wrapping his hand."
"Uh-huh," repeats P'ax, nodding his head in rhythm to Gabe's enthusiasm. "I'll be sure to bring it up if I think anything's wrong."
Once things are underway, it doesn't take too long to plaster up P'ax's hand, and the journeyman gives him instructions for care of the cast while Gabrion cleans up the mess that was left behind. "And if you have trouble sleeping," the journeyman concludes, "we can give you something for the pain. Would you like something now, or would you prefer to wait and see how it goes?"
P'ax listens, or pretends to listen, until the journeyman winds up her speech. "I'm fine, I've had much worse." He cranes his head around and belatedly adds a, "But thanks anyway."
"You better do what she says," Gabrion says severely. "You don't want an oozy, drippy, gooey infection." This time, rather than rebuking him, the journeyman seems amused.
P'ax just spends a few moments blinking at Gabrion. "And you wonder why nobody.... no, nevermind." The insult is curtailed before it comes out fully, but the message is probably clear enough.
"However crudely delivered the message, the apprentice has a point," the journeyman tells P'ax. "Do take good care of it, and we'll see you in two weeks. Sooner if there are problems." Gabrion waits until she's looking the other way and sticks his tongue out at the greenrider.
"Sure, sure, I got it." So says the boy who waited three days to get that looked at. "Thanks, Journeyman." P'ax sticks his tongue out right back at the apprentice, since she's not looking anyway.
"C'mon back up front," Gabe invites P'ax, "and we can set up your check-in appointment."
P'ax kinda gives Gabe a 'don't push your luck' look and hops to his feet. "I have to make an appointment? Why don't I just...show up. If I haven't imploded, of course."
"'Cause if we know you're coming, you don't have to wait," Gabe points out. "It's just easier for everyone that way. Which is your restday?" he asks as he starts for the front desk, expecting P'ax to follow.
P'ax makes a face at the shorter boy's back, trailing him towards the reception desk. "The third."
"Oh, that's easy, then," Gabe says brightly. "So, two weeks from tomorrow." He opens a book on the desk and flips through it. "How about nine in the morning? Or you could come at eleven, if you'd rather."
P'ax stares at Gabrion like he's sprouted an extra head. "I'm not coming in on my rest day. I'm not getting up at /nine/ on my rest day. I'll come in when I have time, Gabe. So be it if I have to wait around." Under his breath he mutters something along the lines of cutting the cast off himself and saving the bother.
Gabrion levels a /look/ at P'ax, and says nothing at all.
P'ax levels a look back. "When are you off?" he asks finally, conversationally.
"Uh." Gabe looks around. "Twenty minutes, actually. Why?"
"Because my hand is busted, and you have one that isn't." That's... charming. P'ax is winning marks for bluntness tonight, maybe.
Gabrion rolls his eyes. "I knew there had to be some reason you liked me," he says, snarkily. He waggles his fingers, just because he can - and P'ax can't.
P'ax snorts and leans his hip against the desk. "Who said I liked you?" But the corner of his mouth curves up anyway.
"I can yank pretty hard," Gabe warns P'ax, with a smug grin. "So. See you in half an hour, then."
"That's fine. I still have one good hand to punch with if you get out of line." P'ax snorts. "Sure, half an hour. We'll be outside."
Gabrion turns around and walks off, to go sweep the floor or some other menial apprentice task.
OOC Date: November 23, 2009
IC Date: Day 17, Month 4, Turn 21
Who: P'ax, Gabrion
Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
P'ax comes into the infirmary with a broken hand, and Gabe helps to patch him up. His bedside manner may leave something to be desired. Nonetheless, the encounter ends with an invitation... which Gabrion doesn't follow up on.
P'ax stalks in looking none too particularly happy, his hand curled up against his stomach. It doesn't look particularly happy, either. In fact, it looks like it might be broken. He scuffs to a stop in fromt of Gabe and stares down at him, waiting silent and glowering to be noticed.
Gabrion hears the stalking, but he finishes the sentence he's on before dropping his feet to the floor and transferring the book to his desk. His coolly professional expression vanishes in favor of deep concern the moment he realizes who it is. "P'ax!" he says anxiously. "Are you all right?" He holds out both his hands and crooks his fingers, beckoning for P'ax to give him his injured hand.
"I'm fine. My hand had a fight with a wall," states P'ax flatly, adding, "The wall won." He offers his hand out with cool disinterest into Gabe's for inspection.
Gabrion sucks in a breath through his teeth as he gently takes P'ax's hand. He probes at the flesh with a finger, not hard, but still it's got to hurt. "Some swelling," he says, worry warring with an attempt at clinical detachment. "Might be a broken bone or two. Why did you hit a wall?" Worry, apparently makes him a scold. He frowns faintly, but says, "C'mon back. Keep your hand relaxed. I'll get some ice for you and send for the journeyman. If you broke bones, we have to make sure they're set properly and get you in a cast." He releases the greenrider's hand and leads the way to one of the patient cubicles.
P'ax's mouth puckers sourly at the worrying and scolding, or maybe it's just an attempt not to flinch or wince at the probing fingers. "Because I didn't want to punch B'tal in the face." Why else would you hit a wall, really. He follows along behind the apprentice but his face pulls sideways. "Uh, can't you just bandage it?"
"I could," Gabe says, matter-of-fact, "but if there are broken bones, and they're not set right, you could get permanent damage, or an infection, or..." he realizes P'ax probably doesn't need all the gory details. "It just wouldn't be good. We'll numb you up after the journeyman examines you. But you have to be able to tell him where it hurts exactly." Which probably means more poking. "Next time you should probably go for the face," he says, as he retrieves a block of ice the size of a bar of soap from an icebox, and puts it into a small cloth bag. He uses a metal tool, with much banging, to crush the ice, and then hands the resulting soggy ice pack to P'ax. "Five minutes on, five minutes off," he instructs. "It'll bring the swelling down. Let me go find someone to run for the journeyman." Off he goes into the back, and emerges a few minutes later with a tall young man who wordlessly heads out of the infirmary and down a corridor.
P'ax continues to look sour over the whole ordeal. "Next time I'll just give him what he really deserves." He accepts the ice pack and puts it against his hand, pouting like a child in silence while he's alone.
Gabrion sits down to wait with P'ax, once he's sent off the messenger, but this has him raising an eyebrow. "What'd he do to get you so upset?" he asks casually.
P'ax breaths in slowly through his nose. "Kind of a long story. Short end would be he thought it would be funny to tease me." He looks over at Gabrion. "Should have just..." he trails off and shakes his head.
"Faces are softer than walls," Gabrion says quietly, his lips twisting in a strange half-smile. "All the same. Thought you two were friends."
P'ax glances down at his hand, moving the ice off of it for a little while and setting it beside him on the cot. "He was being an asshole, sure. Doesn't mean I wanted to black his eye or break his nose for it." He jams his tongue into one cheek. "I was not really myself, anyway. I'm not too good at this monogamy thing."
Gabrion laughs, though he bites down on it quick, like he didn't mean to. "Since when are you monogamous?" he asks. "And isn't B'tal living with W'chek now?" He tries to keep up with these things, certainly. The tall messenger boy comes back into the infirmary, just then, and says to the pair of them, "Journeyman'll be here in five minutes."
P'ax exhales. "Since I started dating E'dre. /Trying/ to be, I mean. My success has been limited. On the one hand, I haven't screwed anyone else...on the other...I can't say it's good for my health." After a moment of staring at his hand he adds, "And this hand was all that's keeping me from going nuts." Poor baby, time to learn to be ambidexterous. "Oh joy," this tacked on sarcastically when the tall boy returns to inform them of the Journeyman's imminent arrival.
Gabrion snickers at the hand joke, though he does give P'ax a dirty look for being rude to the messenger. "Thanks," he calls over to him, but doesn't leave the cubicle. "Didn't know you were dating E'dre. Who's E'dre?" he asks, with a hint of sharpness in his voice.
P'ax shrugs his shoulders, unperturbed by Gabe's sharp look. "E'dre's a rider." Obviously. "Brown Wroth's." On goes the ice again. "Why?"
"Just wondering," Gabe says. "He the one who caught Yyth?" he asks, nose turned up slightly. And, since the healer will be here any minute, it occurs to him to start putting things in order on the nearby table. Clothing for bandaging. A numbweed pot. Some unidentifiable paste-like stuff.
"Uh-huh," drawls P'ax like he's not fooled for an instant by Gabe's casual interest act. He watches everything being laid out with a grimace. "Huh? Er.. no. We started dating, uh, before Yyth went up, anyway. No...Yyth prefers bronzes. If you see a bronzerider with a black eye though...that's the guy who won."
"Do you punch everyone who sleeps with you?" Gabe can't help asking; it's the smartass in him coming out. Just on the heels of that question, the healer journeyman walks in the door and heads for the occupied cubicle. "Hello there," she says amiably to P'ax. "So sorry to keep you waiting. What have we got here?"
"I didn't punch him," says P'ax defensively. "I put my elbow into his eye on accident trying to roll over... I think." Little fuzzy on the details. He glances up at the healer and just lets out a sigh. "I broke my hand," he offers sullenly, like a naughty child owning up to being bad for the millionth time.
The healer journeyman doesn't bat an eye at the elbow-in-the-eye tale. "Let's have a look," she says to P'ax, giving a grateful nod to Gabrion as she reaches for the greenrider's hand. "I see you've got the plaster out. What'd you think?" Gabe swallows nervously, and says, "Fractured first metacarpal. I think. Maybe the second, too?" The healer is poking at P'ax's hand to see for herself. "This hurts, I know," she says apologetically. "Tell me if you feel a sharp pain. Here? Here?" she prods at different places on his hand.
P'ax levels a look at the healer while she's poking around. "I broke it three days ago, lady. I'd say it's all more of a 'dull roar' at this point." So philosophical about the whole thing. "I was hoping I'd just cracked my knuckles good, but.." he makes a vague motion with the other hand, the one still holding the ice, and lets it fall to his lap again.
The healer frowns at P'ax, and Gabrion looks aghast. "Three days ago?" she repeats. "I wish you'd come in sooner, rider. I'd hate to have to re-break the bones in your hand. If this were to heal poorly your use of your hand could be impaired permanently. But luckily," she says as she gives him a particularly hard poke in a particularly painful spot, "they seem to have begun knitting correctly. You'll need a cast to immobilize the hand." She motions to Gabrion, who picks up the bandaging cloth and approaches.
P'ax looks more or less unphased by the scolding, mouth twitching at the hard poke. "You know, funny thing, when you start cutting up animals and playing with their bones, you learn a thing or two about how to set them." His head turns to watch Gabrion instead of the healer journeyman. "How long will I have to wear that?"
"Depends," Gabrion answers. "Anywhere from two to six weeks." He looks at the journeyman for confirmation, and she nods. "Two weeks at the very least," she agrees. "We'll want to see you back here then to check up on it." Gabrion holds out his hand for Pax's again, so that he can wrap it in cloth.
P'ax makes a non-committal grunting sound near the back of his throat and holds his hand out to be bandaged. "Sure, sure, two weeks." He abandons the ice to melt beside him on the bedding and scratches his head lazily.
"But if it hurts a lot, or if you feel something drippy inside the cast, or really just anything that seems not-quite-right, you have to come back right away," Gabrion admonishes him. "Once, there was this guy who broke his wrist, and it got infected inside the cast but he didn't know it, so when they took the cast off it was all swollen and gross, it was..." he's all set to describe the sight with relish, but a cleared throat from the journeyman shuts him up, and he concludes, "Anyway, so if anything weird happens, you come back right away." The journeyman says, "The plaster is ready, Gabrion. Let's see how you've done at wrapping his hand."
"Uh-huh," repeats P'ax, nodding his head in rhythm to Gabe's enthusiasm. "I'll be sure to bring it up if I think anything's wrong."
Once things are underway, it doesn't take too long to plaster up P'ax's hand, and the journeyman gives him instructions for care of the cast while Gabrion cleans up the mess that was left behind. "And if you have trouble sleeping," the journeyman concludes, "we can give you something for the pain. Would you like something now, or would you prefer to wait and see how it goes?"
P'ax listens, or pretends to listen, until the journeyman winds up her speech. "I'm fine, I've had much worse." He cranes his head around and belatedly adds a, "But thanks anyway."
"You better do what she says," Gabrion says severely. "You don't want an oozy, drippy, gooey infection." This time, rather than rebuking him, the journeyman seems amused.
P'ax just spends a few moments blinking at Gabrion. "And you wonder why nobody.... no, nevermind." The insult is curtailed before it comes out fully, but the message is probably clear enough.
"However crudely delivered the message, the apprentice has a point," the journeyman tells P'ax. "Do take good care of it, and we'll see you in two weeks. Sooner if there are problems." Gabrion waits until she's looking the other way and sticks his tongue out at the greenrider.
"Sure, sure, I got it." So says the boy who waited three days to get that looked at. "Thanks, Journeyman." P'ax sticks his tongue out right back at the apprentice, since she's not looking anyway.
"C'mon back up front," Gabe invites P'ax, "and we can set up your check-in appointment."
P'ax kinda gives Gabe a 'don't push your luck' look and hops to his feet. "I have to make an appointment? Why don't I just...show up. If I haven't imploded, of course."
"'Cause if we know you're coming, you don't have to wait," Gabe points out. "It's just easier for everyone that way. Which is your restday?" he asks as he starts for the front desk, expecting P'ax to follow.
P'ax makes a face at the shorter boy's back, trailing him towards the reception desk. "The third."
"Oh, that's easy, then," Gabe says brightly. "So, two weeks from tomorrow." He opens a book on the desk and flips through it. "How about nine in the morning? Or you could come at eleven, if you'd rather."
P'ax stares at Gabrion like he's sprouted an extra head. "I'm not coming in on my rest day. I'm not getting up at /nine/ on my rest day. I'll come in when I have time, Gabe. So be it if I have to wait around." Under his breath he mutters something along the lines of cutting the cast off himself and saving the bother.
Gabrion levels a /look/ at P'ax, and says nothing at all.
P'ax levels a look back. "When are you off?" he asks finally, conversationally.
"Uh." Gabe looks around. "Twenty minutes, actually. Why?"
"Because my hand is busted, and you have one that isn't." That's... charming. P'ax is winning marks for bluntness tonight, maybe.
Gabrion rolls his eyes. "I knew there had to be some reason you liked me," he says, snarkily. He waggles his fingers, just because he can - and P'ax can't.
P'ax snorts and leans his hip against the desk. "Who said I liked you?" But the corner of his mouth curves up anyway.
"I can yank pretty hard," Gabe warns P'ax, with a smug grin. "So. See you in half an hour, then."
"That's fine. I still have one good hand to punch with if you get out of line." P'ax snorts. "Sure, half an hour. We'll be outside."
Gabrion turns around and walks off, to go sweep the floor or some other menial apprentice task.