(no subject)
When the shaking in her hands started to get worse, Jill pretended not to notice it, she pretended not to pay attention to how things began to shake harder when she picked them up or how papers fluttered from her grip. It was nerves or it was the heat or it was her anxiety and Jill was completely unwilling to admit that it might have something to do with the lethargica. She was well educated in the symptoms of postencephalitic parkinsonism, but she didn't have it. There was no possible way that she had it. It was that simple.
She'd been in a coma, she'd almost died, it had been terrible, but now she was better. She was better.
In the kitchen, Jill was trying to make herself something to eat, trying to ignore the way her hands continued to shake. As she cut through the meat she'd found in the refrigerator, she moved slowly, willing her hands to be steady. All she wanted was a sandwich, not to think about her hands or what had happened back home. Just a sandwich.
And the second she finally stopped thinking about her hands for a second, the knife slipped, cutting her index finger deeply and Jill made a startled noise of pain, pulling her hand back as blood welled from the wound. "Fuck," she cursed, louder than she intended, turning to look for something to stop the blood.
[ooc: Open to all. ST and late tags welcome, ST on and off myself while at work. She may or may not agree to see a doctor, but you're welcome to try to convince her to go.]
She'd been in a coma, she'd almost died, it had been terrible, but now she was better. She was better.
In the kitchen, Jill was trying to make herself something to eat, trying to ignore the way her hands continued to shake. As she cut through the meat she'd found in the refrigerator, she moved slowly, willing her hands to be steady. All she wanted was a sandwich, not to think about her hands or what had happened back home. Just a sandwich.
And the second she finally stopped thinking about her hands for a second, the knife slipped, cutting her index finger deeply and Jill made a startled noise of pain, pulling her hand back as blood welled from the wound. "Fuck," she cursed, louder than she intended, turning to look for something to stop the blood.
[ooc: Open to all. ST and late tags welcome, ST on and off myself while at work. She may or may not agree to see a doctor, but you're welcome to try to convince her to go.]