how did you manage to injure yourself THERE?
Author: Nathalia
Rating: PG-13
Challenge:
Pomegranate #17 - first aid: how did you manage to injure yourself there?
Quince #16 - I’ve got good news and bad news
Extras / Toppings: gummy bunnies (origfic_bingo: injury), malt (birthday: Kaity: "I intend to live forever - so far so good!" Stephen Wright), peaches (It's time to see the bigger, better, more advanced side of things) pineapple (And the time that he served / Had shattered all his nerves / And left a little shrapnel in his knee), whipped cream (first section)
Word Count: 1,149
Story: Misfits
Summary: A selection of Hobbie’s visits to hospitals and emergency rooms.
“I’m sorry if I have trouble believing you, Mrs. O’Ryan, but you have to understand that even in my profession where everything is possible and people don’t raise their eyebrow at anything they encounter but accidental near-circumcision is a new one.”
Mrs. O’Ryan looked to her son who was sitting on the floor playing with an action figure, no obvious signs of what had occurred to him just hours previously aside from his puffy, reddened eyes.
“I told you, he had this great idea to pee out of the window instead of going to the toilet and we have horizontal sash windows and …” Mrs. O’Ryan gestured widely. “You know what happened.”
“The window fell shut while Mike was peeing and his penis got stuck?” The doctor helped out with a smile.
Mrs. O’Ryan nodded. “I think that’s a good way to put it. And then he was crying and bleeding and, well, you know the rest of the story.”
“And I’m sure I won’t forget anytime soon,” the doctor assured. “He’s fine now, I stitched him up and if he keeps his hands from his penis, then everything should be okay. Aside from the humiliation he will have to live with for the rest of his life whenever this story comes up but I think that if he’s managed this, then he should be able to deal with the humiliation.”
“That’s the best bad news I’ve ever heard,” Mrs. O’Ryan smiled.
***
He was grinning when the doctor held out the bullet, a small caliber, otherwise this would have caused far more damage and he might have come out of it with more than a few scars.
“I don’t think you understand the seriousness of this hunting accident as you keep calling it,” the doctor said, handing Hobbie the bullet. “You got shot in the posterior and this is not a bullet that is used for hunting. One of those would have ripped you apart.”
“I never said it was a hunting accident,” Hobbie said with a smile, inspecting the bullet between his thumb and forefinger. It would get a spot in his already vast collection of projectiles to be removed from his body. “That was my partner, remember? I told you, I got shot in the ass and that’s all I’m saying. Remember how the police didn’t even care when you tried to call them?”
“That doesn’t change that you were shot and should take this a lot more serious. May I ask how you managed to be shot there anyway?”
Hobbie shrugged. “I was at the wrong place at the wrong time -- obviously and someone jumped the shooter diverting his aim and well, it was me who had to suffer for it. I mean, yeah, I got lucky considering the outcome; it could have been far worse. If I hadn’t been standing with my back to him, it could have caused a hell of a lot more damage no doctor would have been able to fix.”
“And that’s why you’re so relaxed about this? Because you’re thinking about what could have happened if you had been shot in the groin?”
“You would do the same in my position, believe me.”
***
“I’m very sorry to say but reattachment will not be possible,” the doctor said, looking at Hobbie’s toes in the emergency room. “That would only have been possible with a clean and that’s not what you have.”
“Well, one was cut off pretty cleanly but then the next one was shot off and yeah, that probably did some major damage,” Hobbie said, chipper. The toes weren’t his main concern right now. At least he was alive.
“Your toes were shot off?”
“One. The other was cut off with a very big knife.”
“I need to call the police.”
“They brought me here. They know about it already, don’t worry about it and just take care of me. I’m supposed to be your patient, remember?”
“I’ll clean the stump and bandage it. It should heal nicely. You will have some trouble walking, at least initially, because you now have to shift your whole balance but I think if you got your toes shot off, then that shouldn’t be a major problem for you.”
***
“Mr. H-- I’m just going to call you Mr. H, I can’t say your name,” the doctor who had almost become Hobbie’s regular doctor since he had moved to Massachusetts began when he stood by Hobbie’s bed, a clipboard in hand.
Hobbie didn’t try to correct him, amused that finally someone just admitted to it instead of butchering his name.
“You have no idea how lucky you were this time around. I have never seen anything like this -- you say a grenade exploded and a tiny splinter of it hit you -- go so well. You were hit fair and square in the groin but without causing any damage to your reproductive organs or the lymph glands. The splinter didn’t lodge itself too deep into your skin but there will be a scar.”
“Are you telling me the only damage I got from a goddamn grenade splinter to my groin is a scar?” Hobbie asked incredulously. He had been expecting at least some greater damage but couldn’t feel anything down there yet due to the local anesthesia that hadn’t worn off yet.
“That’s it. You are one lucky bastard.”
***
He was pale, digging his fingers into the bedsheets while the doctor talked to the other patient in the room to then turn to him.
“Mr. Hobszi--” He trailed off, hie eyes transfixed on what Hobbie knew was his medical file. Usually, he would have let the doctor humiliate himself by trying to pronounce his last name and failing miserably but not today. This wasn’t one of the regular incidents he landed in the hospital for. This wasn’t just being shot, stabbed, poisoned, tortured or whatever else had happened to him already. This was serious, not something outer forces were involved in. This was something his body had done and that was why for the first time in a long time he was worried to be in a hospital.
“Hobszilauszski,” he helped out. “There’s no need to even try to say it. Just stick to the first bit of the name you can pronounce. I’m used to it.”
The doctor nodded. “Okay, Mr. Hobszi, you probably know that you have suffered a heart attack. It was a very serious one and it’s a wonder you’re even alive but you will have to change a lot about your life if you want to stay with us for much longer.”
Hobbie nodded. That was what he had been afraid of. A heart attack. After all the injuries he had sustained and survived in his life, making him a regular patient at any hospital or doctor’s office, it wasn’t an outside force he had to worry about.
It was his heart that was going to kill him.