Who:
gaveherwings and
soldiershinWhen: Night of Nov 30th - Morning of Dec 31st
Where: Skye Clinic
Summary: Jomy caught the cold (or so he thinks), so he goes to get it checked out. Meets Daedalus, and shinennigans happen.
Warnings: Should be none!
(
it's a meeting that should have happened a month ago. )
That is- there were still plenty of radiation poisonings who would be written a Neumune prescription and sent on their way, the usual round of people brought in for critical care just after the sirens, a few suffering from hypothermia, others with 24 hour flu or just faking some symptoms to have an excuse to stay somewhere warm and indoors till dawn.
There was a worrisome number of those, transients with nowhere else to go. Daedalus sent them up to the staff cafeteria to stay warm.
It wasn't until the early hours nearing dawn that he glanced down the dwindling list of names, the less urgent cases, and saw that Jomy was listed- in the weary near dawn wave of exhaustion, it took a moment to recognize the name.
Oh. Shiroe's friend? Why didn't he call me about an appointment sooner?
He stepped into the examination room, shaking off the drowsiness, setting down his clipboard and looking up with a light, polite smile. Daedalus was doubling up on layers now, two thermals, then cotton scrubs and his doctor's coat.
He remembered, belatedly, the conversation he had with Shiroe, when he'd asked if Jomy had attended the blood drive in October. ('Did it read as different from a human's? We're from the same world, and he said he was a Mu. Genetically, that shouldn't be possible.') It was one of those thinks that had struck him as keenly interesting at the time, something to check up on, but had been lost in the swarm of other priorities...till now.
"Hello. What seems to be the trouble?"
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But, of course, thoughts were not what Jomy was interested in, but in emotion(al state). He blinked a bit when he picked up traces of Daedalus' own interest - had Shiroe spoke to him? That felt rather unlikely, seeing how closed the boy was, but Re-l had mentioned the two were at least close enough to have breakfast together every week.
. . . Well. It was too early into the meeting to tell anyway.
When he straightened to sit properly, it was apparent that he didn't seem much older than Shiroe. Another child in the eyes of most people in this city.
"Good morning," he started. An immediate pause after that, trying to remember how these things went. With the doctor back on Shangri-la, the man had just. . . known. Then again, their wounds tended to be a shot shoulder, third-degree burns, or the like. Not simple colds. Uh- "I think it's a cold."
That could have gone better. Probably.
Shaking his head, he decided to add, "With continued migraines." This was true too, though it was unrelated to any physical ailment. He was doubtful any medication could help with those, but he wouldn't mind trying a doctor-prescribed treatment for those anyway. Worth a try.
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But the rest of the hospital staff seemed to on-and-off resent the known fact that he'd been Chief Director of Health and Welfare elsewhere, as they tended to resent any skilled newcomer who fell into good positions quickly without 'legitimate' city credentials. So they teased, jovially and in passing, and it sometimes made him roll his eyes and wish for the clinically efficient autoreiv assistants who had no dark sense of humor to distract him with daily.
Such were his nights at Skye medical. They were more interesting than his hours of sifting through data patterns in Romdeau, carefully maintaining systemic equilibrium for the dome's life support and the Wombsys development. He found himself enjoying the direct contact with patients (beyond Re-l Mayer!) in this city, because there were actual wounded, legitimately sick, lots to fix and heal, and it made him feel purposeful for once instead of boredly keeping his hand at the helm to keep it even-keeled on a steady route to predestined closure, neatly folded in.
This week, the main trouble had been the water radiation- he'd seen twelve more cases of it that night. Jomy lacked the telltale signs of sores on his lips or dried blood at the corners of his mouth or nostrils. But colds were also common among the irradiated; they'd lost white blood cells, and it was the worst season to be immune deficient.
"Any bleeding from the nose or mouth, stomach ache, or fatigue?" He asked anyway, just to confirm, just to be sure. "And you've been drinking from bottles, not the tap, yes?"
Stethoscope out, he moves in to take routine pulse, check respiration, indicate that the man open his mouth with a small gesture before shining a little flashlight at the back of his throat and checking for swelling.
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Still, it puzzled him to the point that he did not immediately respond, giving a mere tilt of the head instead. A confusing gesture when viewed from an outsider's eyes, perhaps, but it was a habit so well-ingrained that it went unnoticed in Jomy.
Another beat, then he seemed to tug himself out of his supposed stupor (scrutiny) before obeying the silent request. After the check was over, he leaned away to properly answer.
"No, there's been no bleeding. I live in Sector 6, so I've been able to avoid the contaminated water."
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A man with a cold, a little blank and slow in response because of stuffed sinuses, was nothing to be fretful about at all. In fact, if anything the doctor was relieved to end this long night on an easy grace note.
A shame it was a Tuesday, not a Monday. He would invite him along after to the diner, surprise Shiroe.
"You also, in sector 6?" A pleasant smile, two fingers feeling gently against his throat for lymph node swelling, he murmured in soft relief. "That we newcomers have done so well for ourselves..."
The sectors indicated a good deal about...residential safety, and earnings. He was glad for Shiroe and his roommates to be out of the ninth, where crime was frequent, where the darkness proofing was frequently compromised.
He leaned back against the counter, reaching for a cotton swab, still lightly conversational. "Have you been taking any over the counter cold medication?"
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"It was due to luck, in my case," Jomy admitted, lifting his head some to allow the doctor better access at his neck. Landing a job as part of Lion Gate's security, and having Re-l look for a reasonable apartment in sector 6? It was much luck indeed. One that he hadn't been able to appreciate until recently, really.
He turned his face away to cover his nose and mouth when he felt several sneezes take a hold of him, his entire frame shaking. Drawing his coat closer against himself even more, he decided that the chill was the worst part about this illness.
A shake of the head at the question- "No, I haven't taken any medication. Just a lot of water, and sleep."
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He set down the cotton swab. No, this definitely wasn't even strep.
"Well- that's good, in any case. As for your cold-" He paused, reaching into a side drawer from some tissues, extending the box to Jomy. "There's a number of very affordable cold medications that should probably clear you right up, without a prescription."
A very sympathetic wince, considering that Jomy had probably been hanging around since sunset. "I'm...very sorry you had to wait around all night here, just to hear that. But we've been seeing people with common seasonal viruses for weeks now."
"But tell me about these migraines- you've only started having them in conjunction with these symptoms?"
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"It's alright. I suppose it's my fault, for-" For what? Well, several things. Only by the time he had picked out his answer, Jomy found that he'd already missed the proper beat follow-up with additional words. And so he chose to simply let that hang after a moment's deliberation, deciding that it was probably easier to let the doctor fill in the blank with his own answer. This wasn't life-changing anyway.
(Even if it'd been the cause of more pain than he'd wanted to endure.)
"I've had problems with headaches before," he said instead. It was a true statement, even if it wasn't the whole truth. If only he could gauge the level of trust Shiroe put in this man, he wouldn't mind saying more, but- that couldn't be helped.
"They only became migraines since I caught this cold, however."
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He paused at the second concern through, eying him curiously, frowning a little. Onset of migraine-
"Migranes, are you sure? Or is it just sinus pressure, from the congestion?" He folded his arms, leaning back against the edge of the medical cabinet, giving him a longer look of quizzical scrutiny.
"Chronic migraines usually have a set of triggers: alcohol, allergic reactions, smoke, bright lights, loud noises, skipped meals, physical or emotional stress, changes in hormone levels, sleep patterns, exercise...but they're not normally exacerbated by a common cold, you see."
"Headaches that can be classified as migraines are-" And he ticked the symptoms off on his fingers "Pulsating, with a duration of 4-72 hours, unilateral (that means, pain on one side of the cranium), induce Nausea, and are sensory-disabling."
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That was more of a distant thought, however, as he felt the rest of his mind cross at the listed triggers and symptoms, much like eyes might cross on any other child of his (body's) age. As it were, his expression merely slackened as he tried to follow along, his already slowed thought process growing a bit strained. It was with a degree of effort that he processed it all, picking out the relevant phrases to relay it back.
"Er." Eloquent. Jomy cleared his throat, and tried again. "Then I'm- not sure if they are true migraines, though they do last for the duration you've listed. As well as sensory-disabling, though the pain is spread across the entirety of my head."
That's one hurdle conquered. Alright, what else?
"Triggers. . ." Noise. Lots and lots of noise from the city and its people, all the distress and other, unbound emotional explosions. Much like how it was happening in this hospital, with only the minds of the quietly dying and the doctor in front of him as sole exceptions.
He exhaled softly, smiled again, and shook his head lightly. "Mm. Perhaps it's just sinus pressure then."
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Suppressing a yawn, he stripped off his gloves and rubbed a little at his eyes, setting some of his instruments away and giving a cursory glance to the clock, just as-
A flash of the lights, twice, and a distant, familiar whine.
That wasn't code blue, that was just indication for those without window offices that the morning sirens had gone off. His shift report, with the exception of this last one, had already been turned it.
Ah, lets wrap this visit quickly, then.
"If you've suffered from headaches regularly before, here is what I'd like you to do: take an over the counter decongestant and analgesic- basic cold medication. If, in a few days, you're not clearing up, give me a call. In the meantime, for the headaches, I'd like you to keep a journal record of when you suffer from them, describe the pain as best you can, the duration, and what you think are the triggers. If we can diagnose a pattern off of that, in your next visit, we'll see if there's anything we can look into for treatment." An open-handed gesture, he smiled encouragingly. "Alright?"
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A journal? It couldn't hurt, he supposed. A vague throb of guilt nagged at him from the back of his mind; a silent reminder that told him that it was unwise to lie to a doctor who clearly only meant the best for his patients.
Jomy offered Daedalus a grateful smile. "Alright. I'll do that."
With that and a final nod, he rose to his feet. He paused briefly, wanting to say a few more words, but the man's own exhaustion was very keen. He didn't want to keep Daedalus here for any longer than necessary. So he ended it with a simple, "Thank you very much, doctor."
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"I'm also on my way out." A short pause- yes, curiosity did have the better of him, to make the casual offer. "Come with me, at least until we part ways?"
And then, because that sounded a bit odd. "I promised Re-l I wouldn't commute alone- well...most of my commute."
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Adjusting the rest of his outer wear, Jomy gave Daedalus a quick glance (that curiosity did not go missed) as well as a returning nod.
"Of course." Strolling out of the office, he tilted backwards a bit to give the other man another glance. Slight hesitance of his own, but he, too, was curious. It really couldn't hurt to just ask, and Jomy was tired of going about things with a poor attempt at subtlety.
"Er. Would you mind getting some breakfast before we leave as well?"
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Come to think of it, breakfast sounded...like a nice idea too. True, he'd had his weekly morning out yesterday, with Shiroe, but another wouldn't hurt.
"Ah right...all night in the waiting room, you must be hungry. Would you like to go to the diner, or the coffeeshop a little further along?"
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Mm, morbid. Onto more nicer matters:
He released a quiet breath of relief at Daedalus' consent, grinning a bit. Since it was rather doubtful that he could handle anything too heavy (having missed dinner last night on top of enduring the noisy waiting room), his choice was almost instant.
"The coffee shop, please."
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