#Best doctor for bone and joint injuries

[samikshak]

Dr. Mani Venugopal- Orthopaedist In Bengaluru

Dr. Mani Venugopal is a renowned and experienced Orthopedics in Bangalore. He brings with him an experience of 14+ years and has been associated with some of the best hospitals in Bangalore. A dedicated compassionate doctor who handles many challenging cases with the latest cutting edge technology. He offers patient-friendly scientific advice to your problems while maintaining the highest professional and ethical values.

Clinic Timings: Saturday 11 am–1:30 pm, 4–7 pm Sunday Closed Monday 11 am–1:30 pm, 4–7 pm Tuesday 11 am–1:30 pm, 4–7 pm Wednesday 11 am–1:30 pm, 4–7 pm Thursday 11 am–1:30 pm, 4–7 pm Friday 11 am–1:30 pm, 4–7 pm

Address: Nikad Ortho Centre.1, Howdin Road, Road, off Ulsoor, near to Dbs Bank, Bengaluru, Karnataka 560042

Phone No.: 9845040775

Website:

GMB Link:

[astrahospital1]

[wheelie-sick]

Basic dislocation/subluxation first aid

Keep in mind I am not a doctor, this is information I've gathered from medical sources and personal experience. I've done my best to link sources.

Some vocabulary first:

Dislocation - A bone is out of place to the extent that the bones are no longer touching

Subluxation - A bone is partially out of place but still touching the other bone

Dangers

When dealing with frequent dislocations and subluxations it's important to note that dislocating some joints is more dangerous than dislocating other joints. While all dislocations are medical emergencies some people choose not to go to the hospital for all dislocations and subluxations they experience however there are some that absolutely require emergency attention. In particular:

Vertebrae - Dislocating or subluxating a vertebra will cause a spinal cord injury. It's important that you seek emergency care to evaluate the extent of the damage and prevent further damage as severing your spinal cord completely can be fatal.

Collarbone - If your collarbone dislocates inwards it's important to seek emergency care to prevent further damage. A dislocated collarbone can cause life threatening problems with breathing and blood flow.

Knee - If your knee (not kneecap) dislocates it's important to seek emergency care as up to 40% of knee dislocations cause vascular injury that can threaten the entire limb if untreated

And while not all dislocations and subluxations are life or limb threatening all will damage your soft tissues in the surrounding area. A joint popping out of place is bludgeoning in all the surrounding structures in the process. That's why it's important to take care of your dislocations and subluxations correctly.

Improperly healing a dislocation or subluxation also poses its own risks. When dislocations and subluxations first happen the tissues holding the joint in are damaged making it easier to dislocate/subluxate a joint again. Not allowing these tissues to heal poses risk of additional dislocations and subluxations and can create a vicious cycle of tissue damage.

Reduction (Relocation)

Jaw

Vertebra - Go to the ER

Collarbone - Requires medical assistance

Shoulder

Elbow

Finger

Hip

Knee

Kneecap

Ankle

Toe

There were no available guides on reduction for wrists and ribs

What to do following a dislocation/subluxation

Reduce the joint

Apply a brace or splint to the joint. This brace will need to stay on for several weeks-months to allow the soft tissues to heal. This brace is more than a day-long commitment. Bracing is important because it stabilizes the joint while soft tissues heal and prevents further dislocations/subluxations.

Take weight off of the joint/avoid using the joint for 1-2 weeks. When people have been dealing with chronic pain it's easy to try to continue using a recently dislocated/subluxated joint. That joint needs time to heal and that healing will only happen with rest.

-> "I dislocate/subluxate joints so frequently that I cannot possibly do this"

I would make sure that what you're experiencing are actually dislocations/subluxations. A lot of people with disorders that cause subluxations/dislocations mistake ligaments and tendons popping for subluxations and mistake subluxations for dislocations. This causes people to think they are subluxating/dislocating many more joints than they actually are.

If you are truly experiencing that many dislocations/subluxations I would strongly recommend speaking to an orthopedist to discuss bracing and/or surgery for your joints.

If you aren't able to see an orthopedist it's still worth trying the above steps to the best of your ability.

[torialefay]

maybe this is too niche but the most random thoughts keep popping into my head?? idk but i must share them.

these are the types of doctors i think stray kids would be, based on different doctors' stereotypes (from the pov of a medical student):

chan: sports medicine 🏀⚽️

• description: physicians with training in areas related to treating and preventing injuries and health issues associated with sports, exercise, or strenuous physical activity

• stereotype: athlete-turned-doctor. the less extreme brother of the orthopedic specialists. get to meet a wide range of people and are well-liked. very passionate about sports and physical health. dress really nice and know their ass looks great in their tight pants. probably has memorized all the stats of their favorite teams. ACTUALLY very intelligent and not just a meat head.

minho: forensic pathologist 🩸

• description: subspecialist in pathology whose area of special competence is the examination of persons who die suddenly, unexpectedly or violently. The forensic pathologist is an expert in determining cause and manner of death.

• stereotype: honestly just leave them tf alone. they just wanna do their thing... without you there, just come find them when they've figured it out. nice but also scarred forever. a little fucked up in the head but much needed. no one understands how they're able to do their job tbh. able to conjure up the most morbid situations. kinda freaky but in a respected way. you should be concerned if they stare at you for too long.

changbin: orthopedist (aka orthopedic surgeon aka "ortho bro") 🦴

• description: medical specialist who focuses on injuries and diseases affecting your musculoskeletal system (bones, muscles, joints and soft tissues). although this type of doctor is a surgeon, they often help people get relief with nonsurgical therapies.

• stereotype: the "bro"est of the bros. always talking about their new workout routine or equipment with the other ortho bros. will out-eat you any day of the week. probably has a hot spouse. will be blasting their workout playlist for hours on end in the operating room. honestly just want to do surgeries so they can play with the tools. could fight off an entire army with the amount of protein powder they consume on the daily.

hyunjin: dermatologist 💉

• description: medical doctor who specializes in conditions that affect the skin, hair, and nails.

• stereotype: distinguished and better than you. better than everyone else. can be nice, but can also be cold depending in the person. only uses the best hair products. the specialty is very competitive, but you're 99% sure they got in with pretty privilege. owns 7 cars, but their sunday car is their favorite. sells $90 moisturizer at the check-in counter. most definitely is also certified in botox and filler and will give you a discount on your injections if you compliment them enough.

han: psychiatrist 💆🏻

• description: medical doctor who can prescribe, direct, or administer psychotherapeutic treatments or medications to treat mental, emotional, or behavioral disorders.

• stereotype: actually does give a fuck about you. you can tell them the most fucked up shit and they honestly will not be surprised in the slightest. quirky to a fault. knows how to make you feel special. very #relatable. sacrifices their own mental health for the sake of yours. cannot do math. just wants world peace. mentally diagnoses everyone they meet with a personality disorder.

felix: gynecologist 👛

• description: physician who specializes in diagnosing and treating diseases of the female reproductive system.

• stereotype: will be kind to you and work for the promotion of women's health. never makes you feel uncomfortable and tries to make you feel more secure in an environment that can seem scary. has very expensive bags. their children are very successful, but in a humble way. emotionally intelligent. wishes they had more time to bake. an advocate. seem sweet, but if you cross them, they can drag you through the absolute mud. may or may not have a rhinestone cup collection.

seungmin: general surgeon 🔪

• description: doctor and surgeon who’s trained to diagnose and manage a broad array of medical conditions before, during, and after surgery (preoperative, operative and postoperative care), often as leaders of a team.

• stereotype: literally just trying to get you cut open, close you up, and leave. has 27 different playlists to listen to in the operating room. may or may not flirt with the other staff. got this job bc they cannot handle people telling them what to do. will humble you so quickly. other besties are also surgeons. has very niche interests. weird sense of humor that not everyone gets but they still have to laugh because they are scared of him.

innie: neurologist 🧠

• description: medical doctor who diagnoses, treats and manages disorders of the brain and nervous system.

• stereotype: a little peculiar, but very smart. takes a long time to get an appointment with them. probably thinks you are a little dumb, but tries to be nice anyways. hard to make friends. has an amplitude of medications that they are legally not supposed to have. their children are most definitely overachievers. would not trust you to bring an important dish to the potluck. has the cutest shoes. dabbles in unexpected kinks.

(descriptions gotten from various websites hehe)

[whumpisgoodwhumpislife]

Back

Masterlist

Well it was short, but all good things must come to an end. (The whump I mean, not the story).

TW blood, dislocated joints, fractures, mouth injuries.

Oh god.

Oh god.

Raphael dropped the lock picker he was holding and ran to Everest. The vampire was dangling from the ceiling like a piece of meat on a butcher's hook. And he was coated in his own blood.

The man quickly untied him, his hands shaking as he took in his state. Everest's body was dislocated, like a broken doll, limp in his hands. His white eyes were half lidded, staring blankly at nothing. Raphael paled, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him as he watched his hands, already covered in blood, so much blood.

- Everest, buddy, you hear me ? I'm getting you out of here.

He kept talking, whispering reassuring words as he lifted the small vampire's body in his arms, even though the latter was clearly too out of it to understand.

Raphael carried him out of the basement, into the night, toward his car.

He drove, both torn with anguish and seething with anger.

He had seen everything from his house, watching the livestream these little fuckers had started on some shady website. Watching, waiting for any clue of where exactly they were.

He had been lucky to recognise the logo of the local university on one of the teen's shirts, despite their precautions. Voice changers and blurred faces, the whole pack, but it hadn't been enough.

Still, it had taken him a week to find who exactly it was, and to follow him and his friends to the local cemetery. To watch them unlock one of the burial vaults, and sneak in.

The following night, he was there.

He cradled Everest in his arms as he got him out of the car, and carried him into the house. The feeling of his bones moving under his skin was unnerving, a grim reminder of what they had done to the vulnerable creature.

A reminder of Raphael's failure to protect him.

The man watched a lot of tutorials the next two days.

He was not a doctor, and he couldn't take Everest to one. So he learnt.

It took him a while, because every time a bone snapped in place in his hands he felt a wave of nausea rising in his throat. His hands were shaking as he washed all the blood away from the wounds, only for it to be replaced by more.

He couldn't do anything for the broken bones, except guide them in place the best he could, but even that made him gag.

The worst, maybe, was Everest's jaw. There was a long gash on the side of his mouth, opening it in some kind of grimace, and it seems like it couldn't close on this side. Raphael had carefully stitched the wound close, but there was an unnatural look to the way the right part of his lower jaw was hanging limply.

The man kept feeding the vampire blood mixed with the medical herbs, hoping that it would help him heal faster. Hoping that he would wake up soon.

It was unlikely that the teens were going to call the cops, or even try to seek revenge by themselves. But still, it was a possibility, and with the policemen's visit the other day, he didn't feel safe here anymore. After all, they said they were searching for Everest, and they clearly believed he was involved in this, in a way or another.

He would do anything necessary to keep the small vampire safe.

Taglist : @sausages-things @jumpywhumpywriter @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @idkwhattodowiththisaltiamsorry

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I’m probably asking too much with this one, but if you’re willing to may I request a second part to see no evil? Where price and reader deal with the aftermath of what happened, just price being overprotective and worried about reader and not wanting to leave her side snd somehow blaming himself for what happened to her, you’re the best💖

Origami Boats

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: Wounds of the mind are harder to heal than wounds of the body. But can John ever stop blaming himself?

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Referenced past stalking, past injuries & bodily trauma, blood, stitches, angst, protective!Price, eventual fluff, hurt/comfort

A/N: Loosely connected to See No Evil, can still be read as a stand-alone. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The bandages came off one after the other, but the thick wrappings around your ribs and abdomen stayed. Tight. Constricting. Incredibly difficult to walk around with and even worse to try and sleep on. But the stitches still hadn’t dissolved yet—and thus, there they would stay for two more weeks. 

“Erm,” you grunt, struggling into one of John’s old t-shirts and feeling the pull of irritated flesh. Gritting your teeth, your head slips through the top, arms following after like a turtle popping out of its shell as the scent of your boyfriend’s beard oil sticks to your nostrils. 

You’d been discharged from the hospital seven days ago; John as well, though he had been able to leave a while before due to the less severe shot to his right shoulder. No one was really surprised when he’d stubbornly proclaimed that he’d be staying behind to watch over you—the doctors and nurses had tried to intervene, though you can only sway a Captain so far from the people he cares about. 

Truth be told if he hadn’t been there you don’t know if you’d be as alright as you were now. 

“What did I say about straining yourself?” The voice in the bedroom doorway makes you freeze, fingers twitching as a swift inhale causes your lungs to burn. 

But the shadow, accented by the hallway light like a silhouette of some old spartan warrior was familiar down to the make-up of his bones. The great size of a wide chest and shoulders—a brunette beard and thick hair. 

“It’s a shirt, John,” you whisper, voice still fragile. Doctors had advised it was unwise to raise your tone too high. Muscle tears and injuries to the joints in between your vertebrae were only the beginning of the effects of being strangled. It leads to dizziness some days; facial pain as well as horrible headaches. Smiling, you flatten the fabric and turn. “I won’t break.”

“Hm,” John comes out of the light, stoic facial features subdued in your presence. “Never said you would.” 

His warm grip finds your waist, pulling you carefully to him. The man’s shoulder was still sensitive, nothing he’d not gone through before, but Laswell had insisted on him taking Leave. John wasn’t going to say no. Not when it gave him more time to care for you. 

He breathes into you now, a great heaving sigh that echoes off the walls of the far-removed safehouse that he’d secured for the two of you. 

“You should be in bed. It’s early.” John’s large head nuzzles into yours, and your fingers delve under the loose material of his top, content to flatten your hand over his abdomen and feel the heat of blood. A pulse. 

Your digits massage the flesh slowly, and if the Brit could purr he would.

Rolling your eyes at his muffled comment you huff, “I spend too much time in bed. If you had your way you’d have me anchored to it.” 

The short bout of deep chuckles makes your eyes flicker shut in contentment; fingers go over the back of your spine, filtering over the bulge of wrappings. 

“Negative. I quite enjoy seein’ my girl up and about.” Great muscles move as John pulls back, hand cupping your cheeks. You stare up into his baby blue eyes; shade like a storm at sea with flecks of lighting trapped like mist. His gaze flickers over your old cuts—the tiny ones from pieces of glass that had healed incredibly fast. An expression filters over his face so quickly you nearly miss it as it’s gone the next second. John sighs, speaking lowly. “But you need to heal, eh? Keep your strength.”

“Then I suppose it would be the perfect time to tell you I want to walk around the back trail?” Your digits grip his iron wrists softly, thumbs along the backs as they brush back and forth as if his scarred flesh was made of the most expensive silk. 

John’s lips tighten, eyes going half-narrowed in a display of refusal. You’re the only person who he’d let interrupt him, and just so, you do before he can get a word out.

“Ten minutes.” You tilt your head and kiss his palm—hopeful that your wide, melted, eyes will gain favor. The Brit's frown deepens with a pull of his eyebrows, watching downward as his hips trade weight. You lean closer. “I promise.” 

The house holds its breath.

“...You’ll be the end of me, you will.” It’s a grumbled reply of gravel and gargoyle speech, but the blue that darts away to your shoes in contemplation was a sign you’d already won. 

John could never really say no to you.

Carefully giggles wafted through the open bedroom door, carting over the living room where books and loose paper sit in piles on a coffee table; a week’s worth of activities used to pass the time shown in the dented pillows on the couch. A collection of fresh bandages and gauze in the bathroom. Cleaned plates in the kitchen and forks sitting to dry in the sink, dripping water in the bright light of a morning filled with orange and yellow light. 

The Captain pulls a hand away, jokingly pointing it into your face—though his face was serious. You stare with a wide smile. 

“Ten minutes on the back trail. First limp I see I’m carrying you back. Willing or not.”

“Deal.” You slither out of his hold and hurry out the hallway, ignoring the stern call to be careful from behind you. 

You’d been unable to leave the safehouse for more than a breath of fresh air since being discharged—John himself an ever-present shadow to hold onto your elbow as if a bolder would come and take your legs out. This switch-up wasn’t a surprise to you. 

A Captain is still a Captain, on and off the field. He takes care of his own; it was his nature to be protective of the people he loved. Even if John was injured himself and stayed up at night with a sharp eye on the windows and doors. 

“Easy with it!” Blue eyes stare heavily at the wall outside the bedroom door, ears twitching to the sound of shoes being grabbed and small puffs of exerted air. 

John let his lashes flutter over his cheeks, a hand coming up to rub at the bags that live on his face like black and blue bruises. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been pushing his defense of you to another level—some nights he never fell asleep because the house was settling too much; creaks on the floor or flickering from the hallway’s bathroom light that he keeps on. 

But you’d been hurt because he had been too late. Nearly bled out. 

“Christ…” John sighs, hand going to brush his bloated shoulder. The reminder of the bullet going through his flesh was but a distant memory like all the others, though the feeling of your dead weight in his arms as he crashed to the ground would never leave him. Like a mountain on his chest. A curse. 

He could feel your heartbeat….slowing. Failing like a faulty wire. 

His fault.

“John?” Your voice snaps him back—away from pouring rain and a blood-stained puddle on soggy ground. The Captain tilts his head downward and lightly shakes it, glaring at the floor. “Come on! Maybe we can see some of those birds we’ve been hearing.” 

“Yes, Love.” 

Laswell had given him the location of the most rural safehouse she could under the guise of saying it would help get your mind off of everything. The paranoia of being hunted down in the very city you’d lived in for years like an animal. 

As John exited the bedroom and he made his way to the foyer, he silently blessed the Agent with every fiber of his being. Not only did the smile on your face make his own aches and pains fade but this also gave him the opportunity to look for a new house for the two of you to share. No way was he making you go back to the location where crimson was still soaked into the hardwood and brain matter was stuck to the walls. 

That just wasn't an option.

“Eager, then?” A flicker of a grin peels back his beard as he grabs a light jacket and his beanie from the coat rack. You only grab into the meat of John’s arm and drag him outside, shouldering open the door with delicate giggles as your eyes watch the brunette’s grunt of surprise and widening lids.

The sun streams with new dawn; long grass copper in a fire of translucent wisps and a fog that stays ankle-high. Flowers in shades of deep mauve and the color of the old blue teapot that sits on the kitchen counter—delicate petals that corral a dirt path and trap the car in the natural driveway. 

“C’mon!” You say again, not brushing off the arms that grab your waist and help you down the double steps, but still throwing an exasperated glare into a pair of eyes that narrow right back amusingly. 

An infection of joy hits your heart and you’re laying a peck on John’s nose right as his cheeks go red, eyebrows peeling upwards. Loftiness reminiscent of flying lays a sheen over his gaze and a hum of content meets morning-chilled air. 

“Hmm. You missed.” 

“Oh,” your head tilts, the Captain guiding you slowly down the road where the walking trail extends back into a fairly extensive copse of trees. “Did I?” 

Leaning into his chest as he grunts in mock annoyance, your head nudges into John with a heat on the tips of your ears; laughing softly as the scents of dew and dirt get trapped in your nostrils. This far out from the city, you wonder how you ever lived with the sound of cars and construction. People shouting over one another.

A pair of lips meet your scalp, feeling adoring eyes stuck to your form as the trees shroud you in a nymph’s shadow. Delicate footprints walking over the same ground. 

“Everything feelin’ alright?” John asks a few minutes in, maneuvering you around a fallen log as you stare off and watch a pair of Roe deer disappear into the foliage, black eyes for a moment locking with your own. 

A distant nod is all you give, blinking and re-focusing only to find the leaves rustling from a fleeing body of coarse reddish-brown fur. You turn to John, admitting, “Just a little sore. You?”

“We’ll head back in a bit, eh?” The hand on your waist squeezes carefully for a second, only dull thumps of blood making themselves known to your vulnerable state. “Change the bandages and fix breakfast.” 

Staring up at John you’re about to ask how his own shoulder is—as he’d totally glossed over your concern—when you see it just past his visage. Your feet slow to a stop and automatically your Lover’s does as well, sending a concerned gleam your way. 

“Love?” Your lips pull into a tight frown. 

Across the way, placed into a small patch of creeping sunlight and surrounded by the long arms of ferns sits a single growth of flowering orchids. They were white, glowing nearly with how they caught the rays. 

It wasn’t like you wanted to respond the way you did, your arms coming up to wrap your chest and body going to drop a few degrees, but wounds of the mind weren’t as easy to heal as the physical ones. Perhaps that was another reason Laswell had shown her insistence. The country meant quiet; peace. 

But no one could account for a fear of flowers. Specifically white orchids.

John’s head immediately snaps to where you look, body tense, but when his eyes fall to the small plant his thoughts go back to the flora you’d described getting at work. 

The ones that always kept coming week after week. The cards stuck to a small metal holder with red ink poems. 

Lightly pushing you back, your body is enshrouded in a jacket quicker than you can breathe down stiff breaths; the weight forming on your shoulders. It had to be more than a coincidence then, that the smell of rain clouds came in from the North as John tries to calm you.

Rainstorms and flowers. 

Your chest was burning as a hand captured your cheek, dragging back your black-shrowded vision like a wave. Mouth dry and limbs shaking.

“Hey,” John whispers, gruff but patient. 

“It’s alright.” Your fingers tighten over the coat sides, drawing comfort from the familiar scents of oil and smoke. “I’m okay, John. R-really.”

Blue eyes flicker over yours and lips fall into a still line as a pause leaves the bushes dancing in a fast breeze. A stiff inhalation lets you know what the man thought of your blatant lie.

“Just look at me, copy? I’m right here, Sweetheart.” A quiet sigh caresses your flesh. The sound makes your nose sting, heat trapped around your neck and pulsing in your abdomen that borders on painful. “We’re both right here. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

You nod weakly, feet almost wobbly with a horrible rush of adrenaline. Your stomach flips like a roller coaster.

John’s eyebrows crease tightly, and he’s guiding you back down the trail with a hand on your back not milliseconds later. A final comment trapped on his breath as you shove yourself into him for comfort. 

“Bloody count on it, alright? Not while I’m still standing.” 

But his hand can still feel you shaking, and the small droplets of rain pelting the ground only make it worse. No thinking, he drops his beanie on your head as well to keep your head dry, hurrying you back as he glares at his feet with a stone jaw. 

So much for fresh fuckin’ air. 

Poison eyes turn behind him to find stark white entrapped by green. If looks could light fire…

Back at the house, you fiddle with your fingers on the couch, wrapped in a thin linen blanket John had found in one of the closets—subtly flinching at the pound of rain as clinking cups echo from the kitchen. You catalog the scars over your flesh. The long and crude ones from glass; circular blemishes near your wrists from burst blisters and desperate struggling. 

John watches from the doorway, tea tray in his hands and wound muscles that leave his digits clenching over it like a vise. 

It wasn’t fair, he thought, that you should have to feel like this. Having to relearn your own skin like it was a foreign entity clothing you; a new shirt or a pair of pants. Fibers of strung injuries that intertwine to weave a story that he can’t but blame himself for. 

If he’d just gotten home quicker than he…

“John…?” He realizes he’d been staring when you tilt your head at him quizzically, those tender vocal cords still scratchy in a way that makes the Brit cringe in pain as if it was his own. Lord, the Bastard had wrapped his hands around your throat. His girl’s throat. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Sorry, Love.” He utters, avoiding your gaze as he walks over on firm feet. Clearing his throat. “Must’ve been off for a minute.” 

“...You’re not going to stay up all night again, are you?” Your question has him freezing, tray just about to hit the coffee table before John delicately lowers it the rest of the way after a swift pause. His eyes blink quickly in surprise, side-eyeing you. “You look tired.”

Your face is grim. You…you shouldn’t be concerned about him.

“Didn’t know you knew about that.” He settles, grunting before he sits back and pours you a cup of Chamomile. “You were supposed to be sleeping.”

“I hear you check the locks every night at twelve. Dragging yourself away from bed and coming back only to stay up and listen to every noise. Your gun is only a quick movement away on the nightstand.” Your body shifts, moving yourself to straddle the Brit’s lap and forcing his arms back to his chest. His form huffs quietly as you settle, eyes locking on his wrapped shoulder and the shirt that lets white peak from behind textile. “Don’t try and act like I’m not seeing it for what it is.” Tone drops, and the walls of the house close in with dim lights; fingers flinching forward with every pitter-patter of droplets from beyond the barriers. “You… you don’t answer me when I ask how you’re feeling. It’s like…you’re punishing yourself.” 

“I’m—” John cuts himself off, silently baffled at how much you noticed. He had thought he was being discreet. A minute later and the weight on his chest is crushing him, eyes closing with a harsh sigh and causing his head to shake back and forth; his neck craning to the side. 

You stare in agony, fingers going to brush John’s beard and calling him back to you like a ghost of smoke and calluses. “Please, John, don’t blame yourself for this. I can’t stand it anymore.” 

“My job was to protect you.” He speaks like he’s confessing sins. Head high but optics stuck to your neck, hands going to sit on the swell of your hips as the world outside floods. Failing lights play off the strands of brown hair atop his head and you go to brush them into submission. “I couldn’t.”

Pressing your lips to his forehead, John can’t find it in himself to pull back. He falls into you with fatigued eyes and can finally admit to the burning pain in his shoulder. The sutures had been aggravated for days, but he’d never taken the time to check them. 

As if sensing this—by instinct or by startling intuition, John knew not—you pull back and tug at his shirt. Obediently, the Captain takes the article from his form and lets you unwrap the bloody gauze from the wound. He listens when you speak, shivering at the brush of your nails as they catch on his skin like a glorious knife. 

Forehead to your neck and nose under your chin, you take your free hand and push him deeper into you. 

“Your job was never to take care of me, Love. Our job is to take care of each other. And we…we’re just doing the best that we can right now.” The bandages fall to the side, and he feels your breath get caught. John’s eyes flutter shut, jaw clenching. “That’s all that we can do. That’s all anyone can do. We’re not machines—no matter what you tell yourself when you should be sleeping. What you are,” you move to look down at him, and his lid peels back just a fraction to show you cerulean and ocean storms. Smiling at him softly, your eyes are sticky with love and dripping liquid affection, “is who I want to spend the rest of my life with, John. But we have to get better first.”

He wonders how someone like you can still stand to be around him. How could you still love him? But your words do something—brings something back into focus. 

John stares with unabashed devotion. Unbridled tenderness that defines worship of the purest form. Your finger hooks his chin and he lets you move him as he stares with parted lips.

Head tilting, your opposite thumb massages red flesh until the pain lessons like it was never there to begin with. The Captain practically melts.

“Okay?” His lips softly meeting yours is all the answer you get, but it’s also all you need. 

When new bandages are re-wrapped and captivating words are exchanged in the warm lights of the living room, you find yourself stuffed into the clutch of the man’s good arm, watching his large fingers fold white paper as he hums a song under his breath. 

“What is it?” Your voice breaks the silence, calm finally settling in your bones. John wouldn’t leave you tonight, nor any night after. 

The brunette takes a glance down at you and smirks, his shirt left on the coffee table. Your blanket covers the both of you in a cocoon of warmth that the man simply exudes naturally.

“Origami boat.” John pauses his rapid movements, tilting the piece so you can see the folds and sharp edges. You blink in curiosity. “My father showed me how to make them a long time ago. Ages now. Haven't made ‘em in years.” 

“Does it work?” A small sound echoes from the back of his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Not a clue. Let's see then, shall we, Love?” 

Standing on the porch, you watch John’s form get soaked as he carries the small object to the stream at the end of the road, laughing gleefully when his re-situated shirt gets stuck to his skin and shows off his muscles. 

Placing it down, the brunette lightly jogs back, hopping the steps and coming up to wrap an arm over you.

“Hey!” You huff, shucking off the heavy limb from your banket. “You’ll get me soaked.”

“So you don’t want my arm ‘round you, eh?” His cheeky expression makes you hold back a grin, looking away for a moment before rolling your eyes and moving under him. 

You feel his deep chest-chuckles and roll your eyes.

“You’re doing the laundry.”

“It’s rainwater, Dear.” 

“I wasn’t asking, Dear.” 

You both watch the small object as it flows down the muddy stream; white paper going gray with water as it soaks up into the microscopic fibers. For a moment it amused you to think about John and yourself on that boat. Two tiny forms like ants surrounded by a sea of roaring water, raindrops enough to capsize with only one another to help tread water. In many ways, it was hard not to imagine it. 

Your upturned lips part. 

“John?” you ask.

“Hm?” A nose digs into your scalp, fingers tightening over your hidden flesh as the flowers flinch from the downpour and nitrogen sticks to your nose hairs. He breathes you in and watches the Origami boat fall onto its side—swept away with little more than a whisper.

“We’re going to be okay.” It’s not a question. 

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet​, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

[fanaticsnail]

Glimpse into my life: Paging Doctor Chopper

Art link

Hey everyone, Snail here! I spoke a while ago about chef-husband having a small accident at work and then gave a little tag update about selecting a one-piece doctor.

Trigger Warning, injury discussion below the cut.

On the 29th of Jan, chef-husband had a fall at work. He took his apprentices/students to an inflatable water park, overshot his landing on one of the ramps, and dislocated his shoulder. Upon getting out of the water and setting it back in, he broke his shoulder completely.

He's been off work for 7 weeks so far, recovering as best he can while in a sling, and managing the pain while awaiting further x-rays. He got an MRI yesterday, and the damage is worse than we initially thought.

Chef-husband has debris in the joint, the socket has a large tear in the cartilage. One of the main tendons is 50% torn, the broken bone is a little displaced, other small tendon, a build up of fluid, and some muscle damage.

The likely scenario from here is for him to get an Arthur-scope to clean out the debris, whereas the worst case scenario is full on surgery where they open him up and assess the damage and go from there.

So far, all we do is wait and hope for the best!

Doctor Chopper would be my first choice for a quick fix for him, but it would be fun to ask Franky or Kid to make him some chef-style attachments: brulee torch, meat cleaver, bone saw just to name a few! Maybe some tongs for him to do a quick 'click, click' at the bbq.

Thanks for reading 🖤!!

[radioactiveradley]

Hi! I have a question: can broken or fractured bones be seen in MRI scans and CT scans?

Also, when and how do doctors determine whether an MRI or CT scan is needed after an x-ray (in case they didn’t see a problem in the x-ray or unsure if there’s a pathology or not on the x-ray scan)?

Thank you!

Hello!

You can absolutely see broken/fractured bones on both MRI and CT. If we're specifically looking for bony damage, we're more likely to use CT - MRI is the best modality for looking at soft tissue injury, but is far more expensive than CT, so we're not going to use it for any old break!

We use CT to look at complex, 'comminuted' fractures, where the bone has split into multiple fragments, or in other cases where surgeons really need a clear three-dimensional view of the break.

If it's a clean transverse fracture (horizontal snap of a long bone) you probably won't need CT.

However, if you have this shit going on...

(unstable comminuted fracture of left femur due to gunshot wound, courtesy of radiopedia)

Yeah, it's probably CT time.

Similarly, some fractures can be hidden when using X-ray - particularly intra-articular fractures (breaks within a joint).

Intercondylar fractures of the humerus or fractures of the radial head are a classic example. In these cases, we look at the plain radiograph for other markers - particularly signs of haemarthrosis (bleeding into a joint).

Fat pad sign, on a non-displaced radial head fracture that is otherwise invisible on this elbow radiograph - courtesy of wiki

Can you see the slightly darker, raised areas that the red arrows are pointing to? Those are pads of fat around your elbow joint, which usually aren't nearly so obvious on a radiograph. They've been pushed outwards by soft-tissue swelling and bleeding around the break. If we see these two little 'dark flags', it means there's an injury hidden within the elbow joint itself, which we can't see. So, away to CT the patient goes!

Then we have the fabulous lipohaemarthrosis (the word every first-year student dreads having to say out loud in front of qualified staff). Check this baby out!

Lipohaemarthrosis of the left knee due to a hidden tibial plateau fracture, courtesy of radiopaedia

Look on either side of the patella. See those dark blobs? They're fat. As shown on the elbow image, fat is radiolucent (appears dark on X-ray) in comparison to other soft tissue. Fat also floats on top of blood.

This means, if we lay you down with your knee pointing up, and you happen to have free-floating fat and blood around your joint... the fat bloops up to the top, and you get a clear line between the fat and the blood. This is a very clear sign of intra-articular damage - and, again, you'll be heading to CT to get a three-dimensional look at that hidden fracture.

As for when we would use MRI... If we suspect that you have a serious soft-tissue injury that requires surgery (tears to the anterior cruciate ligament in the knee being the classic example!) that's when you'll get a trip to my favourite magnetic man, Big Boomy Chungus. I can go more into that if you want, but it would probably need its own separate post!

Hope that helps! x

[indigosunsetao3]

Would It Be Enough?

Chapter 19 - Holding Out Hope

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Rated E - Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Original FMC 8.2k words - AO3 Link

The nurses quickly wheeled Emma away to run tests, setting up an IV and pushing contrast dye for a CT scan. The doctor wasn’t sure how far some of the injuries went and the knife wound in her shoulder was now pouring blood after it had been ripped open again as she fought against Ghost’s hold. Alex and Ghost followed behind before they were held up at the doors to go past the waiting room, Alex having to translate as best as he could to Ghost that they were to hang back. While Alex knew Russian and could muddle through Ukrainian the medical jargon was way out of his league and adding in the rushed voices, he struggled to piece it all together.

“Gaz, Price how copy?” Ghost asked into his comms as he walked over to the empty receptionist desk and leaned over to see if he could find something to clean himself up with. His grey Russian uniform had more blood on it than he realized outside in the semi-darkness. He knew most of it was Emma’s but he had also felled a few men up close and their blood splattered onto him.

“Hold,” came Price’s voice over the radio. His voice sounded strained and Alex and Ghost could both hear people loudly talking in the background for the brief second Price came over the radio.

Alex turned around to look at the empty waiting room, shifting his gun off his shoulder and resting it on the chair next to him as he sat down. The place was eerily quiet after the past, well however long it had been, of shooting, yelling, bombing, alarms, a loud truck ride over, and Emma’s screaming. His ears were ringing with the silence and he rubbed them a bit before Ghost tossed him a roll of paper towels he had found.

“Best I could find,” Ghost stated as he turned his back to face a window to try and see his reflection and wipe up. The hospital staff seemed uncomfortable enough as it was with all the extra guards and guns around. He doubted they would let them back into the rooms when Emma and Soap were stable if they were filthy. He wasn’t thinking of any other alternatives to the situation because to him there wasn’t any. Both of them were going to walk, or limp, away from this and they’d all finish taking down the ring Crane had been working for.

“On our way to you,” Price came back over the radio a few minutes later.

The background from their location was quiet now and Ghost and Alex both stared at the double doors waiting for the two other men to appear. Alex had given up trying to clean himself up, the blood was dried and the paper towels weren’t doing anything but rubbing his skin. He needed a shower or at a minimum a sink to clean himself off in, then maybe have his hands looked over and patched. The joints were starting to ache and he wouldn’t be surprised if he had broken a few of the small bones in them.

When the double doors pushed open Alex shot up from his seat and Ghost came to stand next to him, his hands gripping his gun tight as if it were grounding him. Price and Gaz both looked a mess, both dirty and haggard, the stress of everything etched all over their faces. Gaz was staring down at the floor where a streak of blood ran across the tile and disappeared behind the now lightly swinging door, something neither Ghost nor Alex noticed before. Was it Emma’s or Soaps?

“They got him back,” Price said after a moment and Alex let out a breath and visibly let his shoulders relax from where they had locked up. Ghost still hadn’t let go of his gun but he shifted his weight a bit on his feet as if to unfreeze himself. “No guarantees though, they warned the likelihood he’ll make it out of surgery,” he was cut off by Ghost.

“He made it this far, he’s not one to give up,” Ghost stated not letting Price finish his sentence. It was bad luck to talk about the chances of something working. After all the bad things that had happened to them in the past week, Ghost wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Emma?” Alex asked as he reached down grabbed the discarded paper towel roll and tossed it to Gaz who was wiping at his eyes with his face mask.

“They’re working on her. I couldn’t get much from them without the translator but they took her for a scan and are going to work on patching up her back. She lost a lot of blood,” he paused his eyes catching on the streak of blood that Gaz had seen before. “They were giving her blood before I was pushed out the room. It’s going to be a while before we hear anything for either of them.” Reaching up he removed his helmet and set it down on the receptionist’s counter before fumbling around in his pockets for his satellite phone. “I need to talk to Laswell and Graves,” he paused and pointed at Alex’s hand which he was massaging with his other hand, “get that looked at.”

“I guess we should get comfortable,” Gaz muttered as he grabbed a chair and pulled it out of the line formation so he could face Ghost and Alex versus sitting next to them in a line. “Fill me in on what happened with you all,” he said after a moment as he started to rip off his Russian gear and worked on his bulletproof vest. “Because I apparently missed a lot. I’m assuming Crane is where he belongs?” His last sentence was a snarl before Alex started to fill in both Ghost and Gaz on what happened.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The pain was blinding, it felt like her whole body was on fire and her skin was too tight on her back like it was stretched thin. Emma gasped as she shifted but found she couldn’t get far like she was stuck. She attempted to move again but whatever held her did not budge and she felt herself start to panic. It was like she was back in that room being tied down. Was she still there? Had everything that happened been some sort of hallucination or nightmare? Snapping her eyes open, though they felt as if they were weighed down, Emma looked around but everything was too bright. She squinted and groaned and when the sound left her body, she heard movement near her. She tried to open her eyes again and a blurry figure came into view causing her to flinch.

“Emma,” the voice said, they sounded concerned. “Emma, you need to relax,” they said with a tone of calm command. Now Emma could hear a machine beeping as her body started to catch up with her brain. She recognized that sound, it was a heart monitor and it was beeping quickly and another alarm went off; blood pressure. “Emma, you’re safe. You’re in a hospital bed, we got you out.” It was as if this person knew exactly what she was thinking, the fear must have been obvious in her face and body language.

Finally, she registered who was speaking to her. Alex, it was Alex’s voice. If Alex was there then everything had happened, it wasn’t a horrible nightmare, and she needed to get to Johnny. She curled her hand, though it felt like it took forever for her fingers to react before she attempted to push down on the bed to lift herself. Her arm shook and she didn’t get anywhere, her elbow flaring out to the side uselessly. That’s when she realized she was rolled on her right side and propped around a pillow, not on her back.

“If you don’t relax, they’re going to knock you out again,” Alex warned as Emma cried out at the pain in her back. The heart rate monitor started to beep more rapidly and she heard footsteps approach along with more voices, voices talking in words she didn’t understand and tones she didn’t recognize. She blinked a few times to try and get her eyes to focus and attempted to open her mouth to speak but her tongue felt like sandpaper and wouldn’t cooperate. “Emma he’s alive, he hasn’t woken up but he’s alive. Please you need to calm down,” Alex warned as hands gripped her and pulled her onto her side again causing her to shriek out. Alex cursed and said something to the person manhandling her, but Emma wasn’t sure what it was. She stretched her hand out toward the blurred figure that was Alex, her eyes beseeching him to help her up before the familiar tingling in her face started and she blacked out again.

Alex was glaring at the nurse who had grabbed Emma pulled her roughly back to her side and injected her with more sedative. She had already been kept under for a full day, the translator explaining she needed rest and minimal movement, but Alex didn’t like how panicked she looked before being put back to sleep again. She deserved to know what was happening and being asleep was only prolonging the inevitable. If they could just speak to her and explain he knew they would all feel better, the guilt of everything that had happened when they got to the hospital was eating away at him. He knew Ghost was bothered by it too but he would never say it out loud.

“How long this time?” Alex asked the woman, knowing he was butchering the words in Ukrainian, as he dropped back down into the chair he had been parked in. He hadn��t left the room for longer than a few minutes since they had been allowed back to be with Emma and Soap. Soap had been trusting him to make sure Emma was safe, and he wasn’t about to break that promise now. Granted the hospital was probably the most secure place for the next fifty miles. Shadow company was still placed around outside, and along the roads, and the 141 was still armed to the teeth. The hospital staff didn’t seem to appreciate walking into rooms with men fully armed in them but they didn’t voice their displeasure, just glared.

The woman answered him that it would be a few hours and Alex sighed before he sank down so he could rest his head on the wall to close his eyes and wait. The Shadow Company clothes that Graves had handed over, after a few snide comments about how unsanitary they looked for a hospital, were a bit tight. His clothes had been completely trashed, ripped, and soaked with blood and when he saw himself in the mirror in the bathroom Alex almost didn’t recognize himself. There was blood all over his face, caked in his beard and hair and his knuckles were split deep and swollen. He politely gave the nurses a few minutes to clean up his wounds once he was presentable but declined anything else from them. The throbbing in his hands kept his mind awake so he didn’t doze off for too long, preferring to be as alert as possible for when Emma came around.

The sun had set a few hours before Emma stirred once again, groaning in her half-asleep state as she peeled her eyes open. The room was dim now so it didn’t hurt her eyes as she glanced around the place to try and take everything in. Last time she had woken up already in a panic and they knocked her back out again so she was doing her best to keep it quiet. Her eyes found Alex sleeping lightly in a chair by her bed, his head back on the wall and hands resting on his stomach. His large gun was propped between his legs and he had his sidearm strapped to his leg. His clothes were different though, solid black, and she could see the shadow insignia patch on his shoulder. Skirting her eyes away from him she glanced down at herself, following the IV line from her arm up to the drip bag and the heart and blood pressure monitor. She also had a nasal cannula on a low flow in her nose and was still propped on her side, the ache in her hips and shoulder told her she had been like this for hours. She knew it was to keep the pressure off her back, which she assumed was nothing but raw cut-up flesh, but it still hurt to be left on just one side.

“Alex,” Emma croaked out after a moment, her voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. He didn’t stir and she cleared her throat and tried again. The second time he snapped up instantly, his hand shooting out to grab his gun before he whipped his head around to find Emma looking at him.

“Shit, sorry. You haven’t been up long, have you?” Alex asked as he shoved the gun away and quickly rose from the chair. He looked concerned as he knelt to be in Emma’s view better, his hands resting on the bed guardrails. “How are you feeling, can I get you anything?” His eyes glanced over at her monitors to make sure she was stable before going back to her again. Emma moved her lips to talk again but she just coughed. “Hang on,” he muttered before rising and disappearing from the room for a second.

Emma stared at the side of the door to her room for him to return, hands reaching up to yank the nasal cannula out of her nose. She could breathe just fine on her own and the oxygen was cold and irritating her skin. When Alex returned, he had a cup of ice chips and Emma took it from him gratefully before sighing. She couldn’t quite get this to work on her side, her right arm was completely numb from laying on it and she had to physically move her fingers with her other hand to get her right side to hold the cup.

“Don’t,” Alex warned when he saw Emma grit her teeth and move to roll onto her back. “Let me help you at least,” he added as she ignored him and tried to shift her weight again. He gently grabbed her left upper arm and let her lean back into his hand before pushing with his palm to ease her down. She puffed out her cheeks in an attempt to keep the cry of pain in and Alex flinched as she shuffled her body a bit, hearing the bandaged rustle under her. “They put you on your side for a reason,” Alex admonished as Emma rapidly breathed and winced at the pressure on her back. Her heart rate monitor had shot up at the movement and Alex’s eyes cut to the door but no one came in.

Emma felt like she was burning from the backs of her legs all the way up to her neck, the pain was everywhere. She knew there were pain meds in her IV because there would be no way she could have kept her sounds to herself when she moved if there weren’t. Her body hurt but there was also a bit of an out-of-body feeling to everything that was happening as well, like everything was a little delayed. Bringing the ice chips up to her mouth Emma dumped half of them in and moved them around her mouth. The cold water was a nice contrast to how dry her mouth was and she sucked in some air before downing the rest.

“Where’s Johnny?” Emma asked, her voice back though still hoarse. Alex was hovering at her side, his hand moving to take the now empty cup from her to go get her more. She watched him hesitate before he set the cup down on the small nightstand. “I want to see him,” she stated a bit more forcefully as she stared up at Alex.

“He’s in a room down the hall,” Alex answered, his hands moving to rest on the guardrails of her bed. “He’s alive Emma but,” he reached up and ran a hand through his hair roughly as if he wasn’t sure how to word the next part, or if he even should.

“Just tell me,” Emma ground out as she shifted up further on the bed, testing out to see how useful, or useless, her arms were. She had feeling back in her right hand though the pins and needles were torture as she put weight on it. “It’s my job, my one job on this team, so tell me, Alex. I don’t need you to handle me,” she would have snapped the last words if she had the strength to.

“He’s on life support,” Alex answered, his hands twitching to help her but stopping as he caught the tone in her last words. He knew she would be pissed at him and he wasn’t about to set her off if he could avoid it. “He died twice on the table, but they got him back,” he quickly tacked on the last bit before continuing. “He was in surgery for hours before they declared him critical but stable. He hasn’t shown any signs of waking up,” Alex sighed as Emma’s heart rate picked back up again as if anticipating what his next words were. “They aren’t sure he will wake up, Emma. They haven’t written him off yet, but the odds aren’t great. I’m sorry,” his final words were pained as if he were sorry for her and himself.

“I don’t care about odds,” Emma answered as she pushed herself to sit up, a whine she couldn’t control in her throat from the pain. “I want to see him,” she ordered as she continued to shift, moving to rip off the sticky pads of her heart monitor.

“You need to stay in bed,” Alex answered as he moved to gently touch her shoulder to push her back. Emma twisted away from him as best as she could before flinging the wires away, the heart rate monitor flatlining at the loss of contact on her skin. “You’re going to rip open all your wounds. You lost so much blood Emma, it took two full bags of blood and countless stitches to fix you,” Alex tried but Emma was shifting herself down the bed, closing her eyes against the pain. His eyes cut to the window in the door where he saw a nurse appear but he made a quick slashing motion with his hand for them to leave. Price out in the hall noticed and walked over to intercept, Alex was not going to let them put Emma back under again until she had calmed down and knew all the details.

“I am going to him,” Emma answered as her shaking hands moved to drop the guardrails on her bed so she could push her legs over. “My stitches will hold, if they rip then they can fix them. I doubt it will hurt nearly as much as the whip,” she continued and Alex moved to drop the guard rails for her. “And if it does, they can just give me pain meds. I’m sure I’m on about four different things at the moment, what’s one more.”

“Let me help at least,” Alex finally relented as the rails dropped and Emma swung her legs over the edge. He turned to grab at her IV pole so he could pull it closer and wheel it alongside her.

“Don’t touch me,” Emma snapped as she rounded on him. She saw the hurt flash across his face but she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. “Last time you tried to help me you knocked me out,” she answered as she scooted her butt to the edge so her feet hit the floor. “I begged you to take me to him and you fucking sedated me. It could have been the last time, the last…” she sniffed. She knew why he had done it; it had been the right call as far as making sure she survived but it didn’t matter. She had begged, cried, and fought but he and Ghost took her choice away from her. “Just back off Alex,” she finished, “I don’t need you.”

Alex hesitated as he held his hands out, palms up, in surrender. “Fine,” he finally stated, knowing he deserved what she was throwing at him. “Then let me get someone to help you. If you try to stand up you are going to fall on your face,” he stated and he knew by the way Emma flicked her eyes up at him she knew it too. “Stay there for a second,” he ordered before walking out of the room.

Emma’s eyes stared at the door as she saw the back of Alex’s head talking with Price before Gaz walked up from the left with cups of what she guessed was coffee. Gaz’s eyes cut to the room and locked with Emma’s before he gave Price his cup and he walked toward the door and poked his head inside. “Give me a minute to find you a chair,” he stated, it was more of a plea for her to stay seated than it was a command. When Emma nodded her agreement, he shut the door again and disappeared leaving Emma to stare down at the floor. She knew Alex and Price were in the hall talking and watching her but she wasn’t going to stare at them. Her mind was too busy focusing on tampering down the pain and getting to Johnny.

“Here,” Gaz said as he backed into the room with a wheelchair that had certainly seen better days, the seat was torn in places and there was duct tape on the handles. “I’m going to help you into the chair,” he pushed the thing up in front of Emma and locked the wheels, “whether you like it or not.” He added seeing the mutinous look on Emma’s face before moving to stand next to her. When she gave a small nod he slipped his hands under her armpits, careful to avoid bandages, and helped heft her up into a standing potion. Emma winced and held her spot for a moment to try and get her bearings, the sudden movement had made her lightheaded. “The nurse is not happy you’re up and has gone to get the doctor, so we need to move quick,” Gaz tacked on before Emma shifted and slowly turned her feet so she could sit down in the chair.

“What do I do with this?” Gaz asked as he followed the IV that was in Emma’s arm up to the pole it was on. “Alex would be better at this,” he muttered knowing full well that Emma had kicked him out. “You know any of us would have done what he and Ghost did right?” Gaz asked as he unhooked the IV bag from the pole and figured out on his own how to hook it on the shaky pole on the wheelchair. “Honestly Price probably would have told them to keep you sedated for a few days. Especially with how you are acting now, you shouldn’t even be moving. Alex has been fighting for you to be able to get up.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Emma answered finally as Gaz leaned over undid the locks on her chair, and wheeled her out. “I’ll talk with Alex later,” she added as Gaz backed them into the hallway. The hospital was older and well-worn from what she could see, paint was chipping off the walls, the floor tiles were mismatched and faded and some of the ceiling lights didn’t even work. She was seriously doubting how well this staff could operate to save Johnny but then she remembered the hospital she had been working at at the start of all of this. Just because the building was decrepit and not functional didn’t mean the staff was. Alex and Price were still standing outside her room watching as they came out but Emma adverted her eyes from them.

“You need to brace yourself,” Gaz said quietly as they stopped outside a door a few down from hers. “I know you deal with this all the time,” he started as Emma pushed up a bit in her seat to try and see in the window of the room, but she was too short down in the chair. Her back ached as she reached down to grab the wheels to push herself in but Gaz held the arms of the chair tight. “But it’s going to be different when it’s someone you know,” he finished as Emma looked up at him.

“If you all don’t stop trying to protect me or treating me like I don’t know my own mind I am going to lose it. I’ll get a nurse to bring me in,” Emma snapped as she leaned forward to try and grab at the door, hissing as the skin on her back pulled against the stitches. “I can handle more than you know,” she finished as Gaz finally relented and opened the door to push her inside.

“I know,” he answered quietly, “you just shouldn’t have to.” Rolling her around Gaz backed them into the room and Emma twisted to try and see behind her. She only saw Gaz’s chest however but she could hear the machines. The telltale noise of a heart rate monitor, a breathing machine, a blood pressure cuff releasing air after getting its latest reading, and another quiet alarm Emma wasn’t sure of. Gaz finally turned her to face the room in full and Emma let out a small gasp at what she saw, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

She knew what to expect, she had seen plenty of patients on ventilators in her career but Gaz had not been wrong that it was different when it was someone you knew. Soap was laid back in the bed in a slight incline, and a hospital gown that opened in the front covered his shoulders but exposed his chest where heart rate monitors were stuck. He had a breathing tube down his throat that led to a machine and he had multiple other tubes connected to him and a few sticky pads around his head to scan for brain activity. The blood pressure cuff that was on his other arm from where he had been shot was deflated and Emma’s eyes darted to the machine to look at his latest reading. It was stable. Her eyes quickly roved over the rest of his monitors and everything looked as it should, he even had brain activity even if they said he wasn’t breathing on his own and wouldn’t wake.

“Johnny,” Emma breathed out feeling the tears on her face not realizing she had started crying at the sight of him. Gaz obediently rolled her over to the side of the bed and locked the wheels in before stepping away without a word. Her hand shot out to grab Soap’s, it was warm but limp as she curled her fingers into his and squeezed. He was alive. The last she had seen him he had been dead and that thought alone pulled a painful sob from her chest as she ran her thumb over the back of his hand. “I’m here,” she said quickly as she scooted up in her chair a bit to get closer, her eyes taking all of him in as she brushed a kiss to his knuckles.

He was still pale but they had cleaned him up, all the blood and dirt was gone from his face and body. The gunshot to his left arm was wrapped up tight and she could see the tops of the bandages around the stab wound peeking from under the blankets he was tucked in. He needed a shave, the hair on his face was dark from what she could see around the breathing apparatus and she knew he would complain about it being itchy if he woke up. When he woke up. His knuckles had cuts along the back of them and he had other nicks and scrapes up his arms that they hadn’t bothered to cover or wrap since they were shallow.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get her sooner,” Emma continued to talk as she grabbed his hand with her other one now so his was cradled in her grasp. “They knocked me out for a bit. Alex and I are going to have some words at some point,” she huffed, “Ghost too for that matter but I may need you to back me up on that one.” She grinned a bit before leaning her head down to rest her cheek against his fingertips. It was an odd feeling to hold his hand and not have him hold it back. Even before she realized she had feelings for him he was always grabbing at her, trying to touch or hold her. From gently holding her hips when he was teaching her how to throw a punch, pressing up against her leg under the table where no one could see during briefs, and even grasping her hand during dinner despite the risks of being caught.

Emma stayed with Soap for a while, she wasn’t sure how much time had passed that she sat there just holding his hand and talking. A nurse had come in a few times to check on his lines and even looked over her IV and set up another drip without saying a word. At some point, Emma had laid her head down on the bed and closed her eyes because when she opened them again the sun was rising and someone was sitting in the open chair across from them. She jolted as she made eye contact with Ghost before cursing at the pain from the sudden movement.

“When did you get here?” Emma asked as she leaned up on her elbows and gently pulled her hands away from Soap’s. His fingers were laced gently into hers and she stared at them for a second wondering if she had done that without realizing in her sleep. Ghost was in a simple black face mask that only covered from his nose to his chin with loops behind the ears, the least she had ever seen in him. His hair was flat to his head and Emma wondered if he had even bothered showering these past few days.

“Been here a while,” Ghost said simply, “you were talking in your sleep,” he tacked on as Emma rubbed her hands down her face and glanced over at Soap’s monitors. Everything was still the same, no fluctuations, good or bad.

“I need to talk to his doctors, get a rundown of his charts, and see what next steps are,” Emma stated as she laid Soap’s hand in a more comfortable position at his side. “Alex said he’s been stable since surgery?” She inquired looking over at Ghost who just nodded once, his eyes were on Soap not bothering to look at her.

“You need rest,” he finally said. “You’ve been in here for hours and your bandages need changing, so do his,” he continued pointing to Soap where a small tinge of red had appeared on his arm. “And before you start your shit,” he snapped off noticing how Emma opened her mouth to retort and she had twisted her face in a grimace, “I kept them away. The doctors have been hounding Price to get you out of here but I told them to fuck off. And you need to knock off the attitude with Alex as well. He hasn’t left your side since you got here willingly. Not once.” He shifted in the chair to lean forward resting his elbows on his thighs to look Emma fully in the face from the other side of the bed. “Price ordered him out to get looked over by the nurses and get cleaned up. Even then he was gone less than twenty minutes. He all but forced me to sit with you for that time as well, he didn’t want you to wake up alone.” He was tired and yawned behind the mask before running a hand through his greasy hair. “I don’t hear you giving me grief when I was the one that forced you to stay back,” he raised an eyebrow, “why is that?”

“I just haven’t had time,” Emma answered him as she leaned back a bit in the chair not letting her back brush against the support. “And I doubt you care about how I feel anyway.”

Ghost simply laughed for a moment, nodding his head before he leaned away into the chair again. “Nice of you to just assume,” he said after a moment, “you’re part of this team Emma, whether I liked it or not in the beginning. I’m not going to lie and tell you I was okay with it at first, I thought you were a burden and a fucking distraction for Johnny, and Alex, for that matter,” he shook his head. “But Johnny convinced me to be patient, to try and see. He wanted it to work out, I’d never seen him so desperate for something,” he paused and looked over at Soap again, pointedly not looking at Emma. “So, I did, but only for him. Because he doesn’t have anything else. His bloody family are worthless pieces of shit so this unit is his life. I went hard on you to get you caught up, to teach you how to survive with us because he needed that. He needed you to be around.”

The silence dragged on for a while but Emma didn’t dare interrupt as she watched Ghost, watched as his eyes darted over Soap’s face, to his monitors, down to his hands which twitched involuntarily on the sheets. But then finally Ghost cut his eyes over to Emma and finished. “You’re still a pain in my ass and a burden, but I do care because I care about him. Alex and I did what we had to do to keep you safe and from being the next one dead on arrival. Because if he woke up and you were gone, he may as well have never woken up at all.”

Emma sat in silence as she mulled over everything Ghost had said to her, the revelations hitting her one right after the other like slaps to the face. She had never given Ghost any sort of credit or grace, always assumed he hated her and was just taking things out on her but she was wrong. Alex had been right all those times telling her to trust him but she still couldn’t see past it because she was so wrapped up in her own thoughts. Sure, Ghost never let on that he liked her but she should have trusted the rest of the team when they assured her it was fine. Ghost just took time, he needed to warm up and she was sure that this betrayal by Crane was going to set him back once again.

“I didn’t,” Emma started trying to figure out what to say to all of that. “I’m sorry,” she finally said after a moment not sure what else she could possibly say though apologizing didn’t feel right either. “I didn’t know about any of that, I just thought,” she stopped again and bit the inside of her cheek trying to think of the right thing to say but nothing came.

“Don’t apologize to me, I don’t need it,” Ghost said as he kicked his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles over one another. “Apologize to Alex when you see him, he’s waiting for you in your room,” he finished before raising his hand to wave someone in.

Emma turned to the door to see a nurse standing there and she came up to Emma and said something she didn’t understand, but Emma knew anyway. She could tell by the gesture the woman wanted to wheel her out of the room and take her back for a bandage change and some rest. Even after all the sleep Emma had she still felt exhausted. “You’ll let me know if anything changes?” Emma asked Ghost and he merely nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Thank you,” she said quietly before reaching out and giving Soap’s hand one last squeeze before she was wheeled out of the room.

Ghost had been correct. Alex was in Emma’s room waiting for her, a tray of food propped in his lap as he scarfed down a sandwich. Emma gave him a small smile before the nurse helped her back into the bed and rolled her to the side. She quickly pulled the curtains around them to give them privacy before opening up the back of Emma’s gown and pulling off her bandages. The stitches needed cleaning and she applied some ointment on the skin that had dried out. Emma hissed and squirmed through the whole thing before it was finally done and she was rolled back onto her back again.

“Peace offering,” Alex said as he grabbed a tray of food Emma hadn’t seen before from her bedside and set it on her lap. “It’s hospital food so it’s not any good but I figured you were hungry,” he explained as he grabbed a cup of water as well and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” Emma said a bit awkwardly before she sighed and looked away from the food on her lap to Alex’s face. “I’m sorry,” she said and genuinely meant it, “I was horrible. After everything you all did and I just,” she sighed and felt like she was going to cry again. These men had all been through hell for her. They nearly lost, and could still lose, a member of their family because of her. They had been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust and she was just having a temper tantrum like a child. “It’s been a long few days,” she finished and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands.

Alex pulled his chair up beside the bed and rested his forearms on the guardrails gently, taking her cup of water back so she could grab her sandwich and eat. “I get it,” he said after a moment, “I would have been mad too. But Soap gave me a job and I wasn’t about to slack on it,” he smiled a bit at her face. “Oh yes. We had a nice chat after Crane decided to air all my dirty laundry,” he winced a bit from the embarrassment. “Speaking of that,” he trailed off for a moment before continuing, “you know that it’s not like that for me. Not anymore. When I realized how you looked at Johnny and he looked back at you I knew it wasn’t my place. I don’t want there to be any,” he stopped as Emma reached out and lightly put her hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to explain,” Emma said before pulling her hand back. “I know Crane was just trying to get under everyone’s skin. Trying to goad everyone on and to fight amongst themselves. He was just using me as a pawn,” she sighed a bit before turning back to her food. Her stomach growled but she felt nauseated just thinking about Crane and everything that had happened. She had been too consumed thinking about Johnny to even begin to process everything else that had happened. “Do you think I can get a look at Johnny’s charts tomorrow? I’ll need a translator,” she was changing the subject and Alex latched onto it gratefully.

“I think that can be arranged,” he grinned and nudged her tray of food to indicate for her to eat. “You should also know that Laswell reached out to your family,” he grimaced at Emma’s glower. He knew all about how her mother could be. “She didn’t really have a choice, but I think Laswell managed to knock her into her place a bit. She stopped calling every hour on the hour for an update so that’s an improvement, right?” He laughed.

“What about Johnny’s family?” Emma asked she didn’t want to think about having to deal with her mother at the moment, she was going to be a nightmare. Soap never really talked much about his family aside from small snippets in stories here and there. “Do they know what happened?” Based on what Ghost had said not long ago they either knew and didn’t care or no one bothered to tell them anyway.

“Ah, well, Laswell got ahold of his father,” Alex shrugged, “that’s all I know. Johnny won’t want him, or any of them, here anyway. We’re more of a family to him than they are.” He handed Emma her water which she downed before finishing up the last few bites of her meager meal. “Get some rest. I’ll track down the translator and Johnny’s charts for when you wake up and we can talk more then.”

“You’ll wake me if anything changes?” Emma asked with a raise of her eyebrows as she shuffled back a bit on the bed and winced a little. She doubted anything would change in the next few hours but critical patients could go downhill fast and without much warning.

“Promise,” Alex said as he walked toward the door and flipped off the light in the room. “Gaz is right outside if you need anything, I’ll be back in a bit.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emma’s days were completely warped as they moved by. Her sleep schedule was off, unable to stay under for long before the pain in her body woke her up. When she wasn’t being treated herself, she was in Johnny’s room, finally able to walk on her own after a few days, though she never went alone. Someone always walked alongside her to make sure she kept her footing and it had been slow going, having to use the wall with her hand to guide her. The Shadows had left their post after about three days, deeming the area safe enough with local law enforcement and the 141 there. Though Price had left the day before for a briefing which left the group down to three active members.

While Emma was making progress in her healing Johnny was still in the same spot, not going up or down in his unconscious status. His body reacted to outside stimuli which was a promising sign, he would twitch his feet away if they were tickled and he had even blinked his eyes open once. Emma didn’t let herself get overly excited at that though, knowing that it was normal body movement for him to do that since he had brain activity. The biggest improvement, aside from his healing wounds, was his body was fighting the ventilator as of recent. His lungs were attempting to breathe on their own and he had gagged on the tube a few times. After meeting with his care team it was decided to try and remove the breathing tube and after a few nerve-wracking minutes, he was breathing steadily without help.

“Morning,” Emma breathed as she leaned down to kiss Soap’s forehead before sliding into her usual chair next to him. She wasn’t on an IV anymore, only taking pain meds orally as needed with her antibiotics. “They finally let me take a shower this morning, it was interesting, to say the least. I haven’t had a shower in, well over two weeks?” She shrugged and ran her hands through her hair which was still damp. They had of course given her sponge baths and washed her hair in a bucket but a shower was something different. It felt freeing to stand under the water, even if a nurse was in the bathroom with her watching and waiting.

Grabbing his chart Emma glanced over everything that had transpired overnight. They had noted a spike in his brain activity when Gaz had been in there and played some music a few days back so Emma had added that into his rotation of care. Reaching over Emma flipped the switch on the radio before she went back to reading over his latest blood draw and medication. She needed to find out if they had heard back from the hospital in London about the medication that had a chance of waking him. There were risks, but the rewards looked promising, and she wanted all of the information on it before they tried administering it.

Emma continued to lightly chat with Soap, even if it was one-sided, as she popped open a laptop Alex had given her so she could continue to work on her research. She had found when any of them talked to Soap he would be a bit more active, spikes in his brain activity and he even moved a bit more. She was determined that he would wake up, even the other doctors were starting to be hopeful but everyone kept it realistic. His living was the first hurdle, waking up was the next, and last would be to see if he was still the same. He had died a total of three times and went without oxygen for who knew how long so there were many variables. But that didn’t matter to Emma, she had a horrendous accident that should have permanently altered her life but she managed to push through and come out the other side. Johnny was stronger than her so she had faith.

“Emma,” a voice called from the door to reveal Gaz with a phone in his hand. “Your mum,” he smirked before walking in and handing her the phone. Her mother had been insufferable. Demanding constant updates, wanting to know if Emma was coming home, then wanting to know the status of her job and how much this hospital visit was going to cost. At one point Emma had hung up on her and refused to answer the phone when she called four times in a row and Price finally stepped in to say she was busy and she’d call back later.

“Hello,” Emma said as she cradled the phone against her ear and kept typing on the laptop only half listening. This phone call started out cordial, asking how Emma was feeling and how her recovery was going. Emma hadn’t dared tell her a word about Soap, not because she cared her mother knew but because she knew her mother would latch on to something else to pester about. Emma answered with her usual ‘yes’ and ‘uh-huh’ as her mom prattled on but then the question about money came back up again and Emma narrowed her eyes and stopped typing.

“Mother, if you keep asking me about money and my job, I’m going to start thinking that’s all you care about,” she stated and shifted her head to the side a bit to move the phone to her other ear. Her mother quickly turned defensive stating there were bills to be paid and she needed to know how much Emma would be providing. “Tell me what you need and I’ll wire what I can to you,” Emma answered simply. She had learned long ago to not give her mother actual numbers because she always wanted all of it. Instead, she made her mother ask and usually Emma had more than enough. “I have to go, just email me alright? I have things to tend to and my physical therapy is starting soon.” Before her mom could answer Emma ended the call and tossed the phone to the end table with an irritated sigh.

The physical therapy was not a lie. She looked at the clock on the wall before standing up, closing the laptop, and shoving it on the end table as well. “I’ll be back in a little while to work on your movement,” Emma explained. She had begun working on moving his legs and arms, gently, to prevent atrophy and bedsores. “If I have the energy when I’m done we can see about giving you a shave, I know how much it bothers you,” she grinned and ran the back of her fingers over his cheek. She was about to drop her hand when she felt him lean into the touch.

It was a subtle movement and Emma flipped her hand over to cup his face and run her thumb over his cheekbone lightly. “Johnny?” He didn’t move but she still stood there, her eyes narrowed as they darted between his closed eyes and then up to his brain activity monitor. The lines were moving, more than they had recently, and they were extremely active. “Johnny?” She asked again and dared to move her hand to lightly pinch behind his ear. He winced and let out a small groan.

“I prefer it when you pinch my arse,” came Soap’s rasping voice as he cracked open one eye and gave a halfhearted smirk up at Emma.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight

a Stephen Strange x OFC Romance

genre: pre-Infinity War, slow burn romance, older man/younger woman, teacher/student to friends to lovers characters: Stephen Strange, Wong, Teyla of Hadeeth (OFC), Moraine of Hadeeth (OC), additional OCs as Kamar-Taj staff rating: general audience to begin with, later chapters contain 18+ material

Ch.One | Ch.Two

Chapter Three

Normally, Masters conducted training in a variety of disciplines, in the main courtyard, or in the smaller open air spaces of the Kamar-Taj complex, regardless of the weather--for sorcerers-in-training required preparation enough to utilize their skills in unpredictable or adverse conditions.  Even during monsoon season, this policy was seldom suspended, with the occasional rare exception; and by long-standing tradition, outdoor sessions were canceled only at the discretion of The Ancient One.  Since her loss, such a situation had not yet arisen—so it was inevitable that such should fall in a week where Stephen was in residence there, far from his place as Master of the New York Sanctum.

From June through early September, Kathmandu saw rain daily, with intermittent evening thunderstorms.  Steven Strange felt every day of that rain as a heightened ache in nearly every joint of his hands.  He hadn’t needed to check Doppler radar online to know that a doozey of a storm was headed their way; he’d felt the drop in barometric pressure several hours in advance, and the damp in the air announced itself spectacularly in a persistent, bone-deep throb that did it’s best to distract him from every task he set himself to.  Adding insult to injury, his tremors had intensified to the point of equaling those of the beginning months of his recovery.  Meditation helped to some extent, but the discomfort remained a constant, like white noise in the background as he moved throughout his day.  He kept to himself most of the day, focusing in the later hours on preparing himself to meet with Teyla for their first “lesson”, scheduled after the evening meal.

The winds lashed the rain against his back, while he crossed a courtyard lit by the flash of lightning, the peal of thunder distant enough to inform him that the worst of the storm had finally passed overhead. 

She was waiting for him in the library, as they’d arranged, engrossed in a text he recognized from his own early studies, and scribbling notes in a hand that would rival the worst of any doctors’ that he’d known.     

Stephen cleared his throat to announce his arrival, but Teyla’s eyes remained cast upon the book in front of her.  “Come here often?” he quipped, vying for her attention, swiftly realizing she probably wouldn’t get the humor of that old, banal pick-up line.  He set his rucksack on the table, then took the seat opposite her.

She looked up with a start, then smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry, Doctor Strange—I got a little lost doing the translation here.”  She slid the book across the table to him.  “It’s the third passage down.  I can’t tell if it’s require or recommend.”

He read the passage through, recalling the difficulties for Novices, of translating Sanskrit on sight—made doubly hard, he reckoned, as she might need to translate it first to English, and then into Hadeethan.  “It’s ‘pay no heed to’,” he told her, pointing to several words proceeding it, “You need to look at it in context to get the true meaning.”  He slid the book back to her.

“Oh—of course!  Now it makes sense.” She crossed the incorrect word off her notes, than laid her pencil down, “Thank you, Doctor.  I have been stuck a while, trying to work it out.”

Strange reached into his rucksack and pulled his tablet out.  “I’ve found this indispensable for translating ancient languages—saves a helluva lot of time.”  He handed it to Teyla, who looked immediately perplexed by the device.  “I don’t suppose you’ve got one of these,” he asked.  She shook her head solemnly.  “Okayyyyy—well how about I leave this with you for the evening?  It’ll make the hours ahead much more productive for you.”

“That is very kind of you, Doctor Strange, although…well…I have no idea how this thing…”

“This tablet,” he told her.

“Oh. This…tablet.  I have no skill with such a tool.”  She offered it back to him.

“Well, this one isn’t difficult at all.  Let me run through its functions for you, and I’ll bet you’ll be breezing through it in no time.”

Stephen went over the basics, and then showed her how to access various websites pertinent to her studies, including a translation site that he had relied on to get him through his early training.  Once she got over her initial distrust of the technology as a sufficient aid for study, Teyla adapted readily, and proved to have a defter hand with it than he had anticipated

Next, he removed several books from his pack and set two of them in front of her. “Now, these texts provide an introduction to clairvoyance and divination.  I want you to take some time over the next couple of days, read them through.”  Teyla picked one up, and then the other, running her fingers across the titles embossed on the covers.  “I’ve bookmarked some sections that I think have a direct bearing on what we’re trying to accomplish here,” he told her, “And if you feel ready, I encourage you to try what exercises you find worth your efforts.”

“I will do my best,” she nodded, “Master Salma said I will be mapping unchartered territory.”  She looked down, quietly admitting, “I find it all…very…intimidating.”

“No one will be judging you, Teyla.”  She met his eyes at that, searching for assurances.  “I promise,” he added, “And if we’re lucky, Kamar-Taj will learn as much from you, and you from us.”

Relief dawned first in her eyes, and then spread softly across her face, “I must admit my mentors on Hadeeth were frustrated when they could not provide teaching enough for me to harness and refine my raw ability for divination.  I pray that your efforts to guide me will not be a waste of your valuable time.”

“No effort to teach is wasted when the student is sincere in their desire to learn,” he assured her, his voice low and persuasive, “And that is something I’ve learned as both a student and a teacher myself—and not just of the mystics arts.  My medical training was more than a decade long process.”

Strange pulled a plain, leather bound book and pen from the side pocket of his rucksack, “One of the simplest things you can do is keep a record of your dreams.  The texts advise you do so nightly—or at least as often as you are able to recall your dreams upon awakening.”  He slid the items across the table to her.  “Whatever details you can remember without concentrating too hard—otherwise your waking mind will try to add definition to things that don’t make sense…”

Teyla nodded, growing excited, “Why yes—immediately record the images and the events of my dreams.  How have I not thought of this myself!  To keep a…a dream…”

“…journal,” they finished together.  She grinned at him, “Your wisdom has already surpassed that of my Hadeethan teachers.”

He chuckled, “As much as I’d like to, I can’t take credit for the idea, Teyla; it’s a basic beginning in most of these texts.  Keep in mind, your best results will come from writing down your first thoughts, no matter how confusing or jumbled they may be.  Don’t give your mind a chance to filter or rearrange them in a search for meaning.”

“Yes, yes,” she murmured, “I understand…”

“And your feelings, Teyla.  How you felt throughout the dream—and how you feel upon awakening.  Even if you wake mid-dream, or in the middle of the night,” he stressed, “Write it down.  This should help us see patterns in your dreaming, and eventually enable you to distinguish normal dreams from the prophetic ones.”

And there it was:  that light in her eyes and upon her face that reminded him of the simple joy of having an avenue of learning open up before him.  As exacting as his medical studies had been, there had always been the deep satisfaction of just knowing he was on the path to knowledge meant for him.  And again as he began his studies at Kamar-Taj.  As a physician, Stephen had seen that light from time to time, in his best student interns—and had forgotten it could be equally satisfying to the teacher who invoked it in their charges.  From a task he’d initially dreaded, he was suddenly glad the situation had forced him to become Teyla’s mentor.

Pleased that he had actually given Teyla something concrete in the way of guidance, Stephen asked how she was faring in her other training.  Though she maintained that she would have no need for the physical defensive skills when she returned to Hadeeth, she admitted she was impressed watching the Masters of those disciplines at work—and that she felt every moment of her own workouts in the aching muscles that followed in the aftermath.

“Oh yes, they can hurt like hell the first week or so,” he laughed, “But I guarantee you’ll feel fitter than you have in your whole life by the end of the second.”   

Eventually, their conversation made its way back to the subject of her studies with Stephen.  “The texts I’ve read so far--I have to admit that they’ve left me curious, Teyla.  Would you mind telling me what it’s like?”

“The…the dreams?”  She seemed surprised he had asked so plainly.

“Yes.  How do they work, exactly?”

Her face scrunched and her eyes took on a faraway look as she considered how to answer.  “The dreams have always been with me, as…as far back as my memory goes.  As a child, I had no idea they were any different from the dreams of others—and so I found no need to speak of them aloud.”

Quietly, Stephen prompted her, “So when did you realize that they were different?”

Teyla’s voice and manner grew solemn as her recollection came to life.  “I was…hmmm…seven years of age.  Seven Earth years.  And I had dreamed a dream for three nights straight—of my closest friend, Meandra.  It was a simple dream, and I had no inclination to question it.”  She closed her eyes, enrapt in the pictures her mind created.  “Meandra slept beneath a midnight, moonlit sky.  Fast asleep; she lay upon a bed of moss beside a small creek.”  Her mouth drew into a small, fleeting smile.  “My child’s mind believed the dream arose from anticipation of a nature walk our teacher had promised to us.  I would never have guessed it was a dream of warning.”

“Teyla,” he murmured, “Whatever happened, I’m sure you shouldn’t have blamed yourself.”

She sighed and looked back to him.  “Child that I was, it could not be helped.  When Meandra wandered away from the group, nobody noticed until we prepared to leave the forest.  The adults searched well into the night, but found no sign of her.  We all feared that she was lost to us.”

Stephen remained silent, considering the weight of guilt she may have borne, and at so tender an age.  Seeing his concern, Teyla shook her head, “No, good Doctor, it was not a fatal loss—though if I had been less afraid, I might have ended everyone’s woes all the sooner.”  She shrugged, and cast her eyes away shamefully, “Through a bitter night, I struggled with my fear that a simple word of warning might have spared Meandra losing her way.  And even worse, I fretted that through my dreams, I had worked some sort of dark magic as I slept, which might have cost my friend her life.”

Compelled by sympathy, Stephen took her hand—gingerly, for the continuing discomfort in his own.  “You were just a girl; surely no one could expect more of you,” he reminded her, “I hope someone was wise enough to tell you so.”

“Indeed,” she nodded, “With the dawn, I sought my mother out, and revealed my dreadful secret.  She bid me wait but a little, so that she could give the searchers a description of where Meandra might be found—and when she returned to me, she gave me only love and comfort.”  Teyla’s pretty eyes were soft with that memory.  “Meandra was not too worse for wear, and was swiftly reunited with her family.  And after I had rested a while—still afraid to sleep, lest I might dream dreadfully—Mother explained the nature of my gift.  She called it a blessing, and told me it promised a noble destiny if I could learn to use it for the good of my people.”

Resisting the urge to tell Teyla that laying such a charge on a seven year old was extremely poor parenting, Stephen ventured a guess, “I suppose she feels you’ve come of age to fulfill that destiny?”    

“Even so,” she admitted, “But know, good Doctor, that this is my hope as well.”

“Of course,” he told her, “I would expect no less.”  Strange withdrew his hand from hers, beginning to gather up the few materials which he now judged too elementary for Teyla to find of use.  He winced as he lifted one of the heavier volumes, cursing under his breath as he lost his grip and it landed on the table; the thud echoed through the quiet of the library.

Teyla met his eyes for only seconds, but he read her clear understanding in that brief moment, before she looked to his hands.  There was no hiding the tremor in them, but he tried to make light of the moment; sighing with feigned exasperation, “I need to remember this sort of heavy reading requires both hands to be effective.”  His self-deprecation fell short of lightening the moment.

“It is the rain, is it not,” she asked cautiously, although Stephen was sure she knew the answer already.  Teyla’s eyes lingered once again upon his hands, as though committing the network of scars to memory.

“Yes,” he shrugged, downplaying the degree of his discomfort, “Nature’s little way of keeping me humble.”

“Yet the magic you have worked with them is already legend among the students here.”  She smiled at his surprise, “Did you not know?”

Stephen clucked his tongue, “Yeah…well…legends are usually half exaggeration anyway.  At least here on Earth.  You should take those stories with a grain of salt, Teyla.”

“As you wish, Doctor Strange—but their unstinting admiration of your deeds is genuine.”  Demurely, she cast her eyes away and added, “A true hero I have heard you called; one who single-handedly battled one of the darkest forces in the multi-verse.”

Stephen waved her praise off (the simple movement enough to set the joints in that hand throbbing again), “Honestly, Teyla—I only did what any Master here would do if faced with such a catastrophic threat.”

The tilt of her head and her sympathetic little smile spoke her response well enough, leaving Strange feeling a bit self-conscious.  Standing up to leave, he would have changed the subject, but that she asked after his hands again.  Irritated at her dogged attention to his private pain, he tried his best to answer impassively, “I appreciate your concern, Teyla of Hadeeth, but this is a topic I’d rather not discuss.”

“Forgive me please, Doctor Strange.  I would not, for all the world, bring you further pain in this regard.”  Teyla bit her lip, looking uncertain for several moments.  “Please, do not be angry—but as we have discussed my dreams—and as I am under your tutelage in this regard--there is something I must share with you.”  

Between the fresh flare of pain in both his hands—and Teyla’s seeming obsession with his wounds—Stephen’s patience was nearly frayed; he inhaled sharply, “What must you share, that cannot wait for another day?”

The young woman from another world blinked several times, her eyes misted over with unshed tears.  “It is only that…that…”

“Yes,” he asked through gritted teeth.

“I have dreamt of your hands, Doctor.  And not only since I arrived at Kamar-Taj.”  Visibly trembling, Teyla rose from her seat, to face him squarely across the cold distance between them, “I have dreamt your hands many times over, from the day I came to Earth to live with my father…and in the ten Earth years since.”

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[madhuri-s]

Exploring Specialized Medical Care in Rajasthan: Orthopedics, Robotics, Hematology, and Gastroenterology

Rajasthan is home to some of the most advanced medical facilities and specialists in India, offering cutting-edge treatments in various fields. From finding the best orthopedic doctor in Bikaner to exploring robotic surgery in Jaipur, patients can access world-class healthcare services without leaving the state. Additionally, top professionals like the best hematologist in Jaipur and the best gastroenterologist in Bikaner offer highly specialized care for complex medical conditions. This article will guide you through the importance of these specialists and why choosing the right medical expert is crucial for your health.

Orthopedic Care in Bikaner: Treating Bone and Joint Disorders

When it comes to orthopedic care, Bikaner is home to some of the finest medical experts who specialize in treating bone, joint, and musculoskeletal issues. Whether it's a sports injury, arthritis, or a complex fracture, the best orthopedic doctor in Bikaner offers comprehensive care to ensure optimal recovery and mobility.

Why Consult the Best Orthopedic Doctor in Bikaner?

Treatment of Fractures: A fracture can significantly impact your quality of life, and timely treatment is essential for proper healing. The best orthopedic doctor in Bikaner uses advanced techniques such as minimally invasive surgery and customized rehabilitation programs to restore bone health.

Joint Replacement Surgery: Chronic joint pain, particularly in the hips and knees, can be debilitating. The best orthopedic doctor in Bikaner performs joint replacement surgeries to alleviate pain and restore function, enabling patients to lead active lives again.

Pediatric Orthopedics: Children with congenital bone issues or growth-related disorders require specialized treatment. Bikaner's orthopedic specialists provide care tailored to young patients, ensuring proper development and long-term health.

Sports Medicine: For athletes and active individuals, sports injuries such as ligament tears or dislocations need immediate attention. The best orthopedic doctor in Bikaner offers both non-surgical and surgical treatment options, depending on the severity of the injury.

Robotic Surgery in Jaipur: A Leap into the Future of Healthcare

As technology continues to advance, robotic surgery in Jaipur is revolutionizing the way surgeries are performed. This innovative approach allows surgeons to perform complex procedures with greater precision, reduced recovery times, and minimal scarring.

Benefits of Robotic Surgery in Jaipur

Enhanced Precision: Robotic surgery provides surgeons with a magnified 3D view of the operating area, allowing for more accurate incisions and better outcomes. This is particularly beneficial in delicate surgeries like urology, gynecology, and cancer treatment.

Minimally Invasive Procedures: Unlike traditional open surgery, robotic surgery in Jaipur involves small incisions, resulting in less pain, shorter hospital stays, and quicker recovery times. Patients can return to their daily activities much faster compared to conventional surgery.

Lower Risk of Complications: With robotic surgery, the precision of the robotic arms reduces the risk of human error, leading to fewer complications during and after the procedure. This makes it a safer option for high-risk patients or those with complex conditions.

Faster Recovery: Due to the minimally invasive nature of robotic surgery, patients experience less blood loss and trauma to surrounding tissues. This leads to a quicker healing process, allowing patients to resume normal activities sooner than with traditional surgery.

Hematology in Jaipur: Specialized Blood Disorder Treatment

Blood disorders require the expertise of a hematologist, and Jaipur is home to some of the top specialists in this field. Whether it's anemia, leukemia, or clotting disorders, the best hematologist in Jaipur provides comprehensive diagnosis and treatment plans tailored to each patient's condition.

Why Choose the Best Hematologist in Jaipur?

Diagnosis of Blood Disorders: Blood disorders can be complex and often require detailed analysis for an accurate diagnosis. The best hematologist in Jaipur uses state-of-the-art diagnostic tools such as blood tests, bone marrow biopsies, and genetic testing to identify the underlying issue.

Treatment of Anemia: Anemia, a condition where the body lacks enough healthy red blood cells, is a common issue that requires specialized care. The best hematologist in Jaipur offers treatments such as iron supplements, dietary changes, or, in severe cases, blood transfusions to manage anemia effectively.

Leukemia and Lymphoma Care: For patients diagnosed with blood cancers like leukemia and lymphoma, the best hematologist in Jaipur provides advanced treatment options, including chemotherapy, immunotherapy, and stem cell transplants, to help patients achieve remission.

Management of Clotting Disorders: Conditions such as hemophilia or deep vein thrombosis (DVT) require ongoing management. The best hematologist in Jaipur creates personalized treatment plans to prevent complications like excessive bleeding or clot formation.

Gastroenterology in Bikaner: Digestive Health and Wellness

Digestive issues can range from mild discomfort to serious conditions like liver disease or colorectal cancer. In Bikaner, patients can consult the best gastroenterologist in Bikaner for expert care in managing gastrointestinal (GI) disorders.

Services Offered by the Best Gastroenterologist in Bikaner

Endoscopy and Colonoscopy: Diagnostic procedures like endoscopy and colonoscopy are essential for detecting issues such as ulcers, polyps, or early-stage cancers. The best gastroenterologist in Bikaner performs these procedures to ensure a thorough evaluation of the digestive tract.

Liver Disease Treatment: Conditions like hepatitis, fatty liver disease, and cirrhosis require specialized care. The best gastroenterologist in Bikaner provides comprehensive treatment plans, including medication, lifestyle changes, and, in severe cases, liver transplantation.

Management of Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS): IBS is a chronic condition that affects the large intestine, causing symptoms like abdominal pain, bloating, and diarrhea. The best gastroenterologist in Bikaner offers dietary guidance, medications, and stress management techniques to help patients manage their symptoms effectively.

Colorectal Cancer Screening: Early detection of colorectal cancer significantly increases the chances of successful treatment. The best gastroenterologist in Bikaner performs routine screenings, especially for patients with a family history of the disease or those over the age of 50.

Rajasthan offers a diverse range of medical specialists and advanced treatment options for those seeking care in orthopedics, robotic surgery, hematology, and gastroenterology. Whether you're consulting the best orthopedic doctor in Bikaner, considering robotic surgery in Jaipur, or need expert care from the best hematologist in Jaipur or best gastroenterologist in Bikaner, choosing the right specialist is essential for achieving the best outcomes. By selecting experienced professionals with a track record of success, patients can receive world-class care without leaving the state.

[astrahospital1]

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #32

Did you know that in my world, there's such a thing as professional merfolk?

And did you know that not too terribly long ago, I was training to become one?

I imagine you must be terribly confused; "Lumine, what in Gaia's vast, green expanses do you mean by 'professional merfolk'?" you might be asking. So I'll send along a couple videos and some images of me training, so that you'll understand:

I even had an account on Instagram called MerrowAuryn, to document my various shenanigans. It's got videos of me diving, pictures of the various fishies (and even a turtle!) that I befriended on my adventures, and pictures of other neat things that I happened across while derping around in the water. It's still there, but... I don't really use it anymore...

There is an aquarium within reasonable driving distance from my house. They occasionally put on merfolk shows, where a person gets into this sort of costume and performs for anyone nearby who wants to watch. I was training by myself and building up a kind of portfolio of videos and images, with the intention of becoming strong enough to perform in an aquarium tank in this kind of heavy gear for up to 8 hours every day.

I was apnea training, too - my personal best time for holding my breath had gotten all the way up to four and a half minutes. Apnea training involves holding one's breath in cycles to build up a person's tolerance for high carbon dioxide levels and low oxygen levels in the blood. It also pushes the limits of how far one can expand and contract their lungs. Real professional merfolk can hold their breath for five minutes or more. And then you get professional freedivers, who can hold theirs for up to 8 minutes! It's really quite amazing!

For a decent span of time, I had been spending several hours a day, nearly every day, swimming in the heavy costume that you saw in the videos and images above. I apnea trained with a carbon dioxide table every two days. I was improving quickly, and I was feeling pretty confident!

…And then I had to stop. As it turns out, I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. This is a genetic defect of a person's collagen that makes it fragile and way too stretchy. I'm sure you know this already, but collagen is what builds things like our skin and our cartilage and all our connective tissue; tendons, ligaments, all the things that keep our organs in place, all that fun stuff.

If you have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, then your cartilage has a hard time keeping your bones together, because it is built with cheap knockoff collagen; there's no cure. I'm also dyspraxic, so often enough, when I move my limbs, my body doesn't like to tell me how far is too far; things are prone to coming undone for me, but up until this point, I've been accustomed to things popping back into place without it being a big deal.

Well… I guess this time, it was a big deal. And unfortunately, we're not sure what exactly came undone, or it if came undone due to moving around vigorously while holding my breath in the tight costume, or perhaps by expanding or contracting my ribcage too far while apnea training, or the length and frequency of my training exacerbating an already-existing injury. The set of bones, tendons, and ligaments that keep the shoulder joint together (ribs, collarbone, scapula, parts of the neck, and the humerus…) is… well… it's a lot. There's a lot of moving parts to it. And as I'm sure you already know, if even one part of it is compromised, the rest of it falls apart pretty quickly; it's annoying like that.

Regardless of the cause, the fact remains that I've lost most pain-free use of my right arm, and most movements that involve my neck, diaphragm, and ribs also hurt. Though I've been seeing fancy doctor people and going to Physical Therapy for a over a year now, no one really knows exactly what's wrong or how to fix it. My right arm is my dominant arm, so naturally, this means that, while I still can kinda-sorta do the things I love (like cooking and weaving trees and and various other stuff), it hurts a lot to do these things now, so I can't do them nearly as often as I used to. And… I haven't been back in the water meaningfully since. I miss it more than I know how to say.

But that's the way things go, sometimes, right? You grow up and you find out that being able to bend and twist in abnormal, eldritch ways is an ACTUAL PROBLEM™, and not just a cool party trick. Nothing for it but to keep trying to figure it out and fix it, and try to stay positive in the meantime.

So on the one hand… I haven't been able to be in the water in a very long time now. But on the other hand, it gives me lots and lots of time to do other things. Like for example, I can write to you, and that's pretty neat, right? I wouldn't have the time or the energy for this if I was still training in the water for 3 or 4 hours every day.

…When bad things happen, it's surely important to take the time to mourn those things. But it's also important to reframe certain things so that you don't stay in mental/emotional agony forever. It's important to find reasons to still be grateful, even if certain other things are kinda lame. Like me, right now; I'm quite literally kinda lame, hahahaha!

I wonder if you like to swim. If you enjoy it, then have you been able to go do it? And if you enjoy it, but haven't been able to do it, do you miss it? I wonder…

Anyhoot. I suppose I better wrap up this letter now. I have some friends picking me up for a get-together fairly soon, and I have to make sure I haven't gone and forgotten anything (ah, the perils of having poor working memory and only barely functional object permanence, hahaha!). I've gone and prepared a few simple tasty snacks for the occasion; one of those snacks is the confit garlic that I had written to you about before, and I'm pretty excited to share it with these nice folks!

May you find reasons to remain grateful, even when your situation gets really weird. Don't succumb to despair. Don't let the difficulties of your everyday challenges get you down. Remember that you're smart and strong and capable and so very, very loved. And please stay safe out there as you do your various things, okay?

I'll write again soon, as I always do.

Your friend, Lumine

[darthhope-in-space]

Characters with chronic conditions... how FUN

I just finished binging House MD (also known as NOT studying), so here's a list of characters with chronic conditions complete with my annotations. This may or may not change in the future, I'm just good like that.

TW: traumatic injuries (like a lot of them, stay safe people), death, illness/chronic conditions

(I did as much research as I could, but if I get anything wrong please feel free to correct me!)

Aisling - impaired vision due to albinism (she's an albino marsh dragon, yes it makes sense, keep up)

Cedarson - bone condition probably similar to Paget’s Disease of Bone (I LOVE that name. Whoever Paget is deserves a naming award.)

Einar - Huntington's disease (hm... I wonder if that was influenced by anything...)

Fennel - multiple sclerosis/MS (this is actually really important to the plot, so House, you can't take credit for this one)

Grey - HIV

Snow - asthma

Olive - osteogenesis imperfecta/OI (she's also the clumsiest creature this side of the equator. It's a great combination)

Rusty - gastroparesis (poor Rust, has gotta deal with his crazy siblings [above three] and all this)

Karic - hemophilia (and he's also a CF carrier, that's important later)

Lelan - a lot of injuries from a bomb (autocorrect tried to change that to inquires, and I personally find that hilarious)

Mirosev (Karic's son) - hemophilia and CF (I can't tell you how much research it took to find a genetic condition Karic could pass to his children while remaining asymptomatic AND being a species that reproduces via parthenogenesis. I gave up, if you can't tell. Just pretend it works)

Mylen - fibromyalgia

Nwol - burn injuries from a cannon (he's dead, btw)

Oakley - chronic pancreatitis and diabetes (I've just realized that I've given almost every single child character an illness... and that I've named them all after trees).

Rein (Karic's other kid) - CF (HEY, another one House can't take credit for. Rein was dying long before I watched ten thousand hours of a medical drama)

Remté - osteomyelitis in right legs, multiple chronic injuries resulting from crushed joints (the palace got invaded, how kind)

Rhysn - chronic myofascial pain syndrome (gotta love that name)

Rierśa - muscle spasms and tightness in right foreleg (that's Alsan's fault, blame him)

Rowan - Lupus (IT'S NEVER LUPUS!!!!!!!!!!!)

Valir - deafness due to childhood meningitis (that episode was awesome; hallucinations of your best friend's dead girlfriend and almost killing your employee is most certainly top-tier doctoring)

Veseim - visual impairment resulting from traumatic injury (the palace was invaded again)

Hawkins - epilepsy (look, we're out of alphabetical order again)

Tamsin - leukemia (that's IMPOSSIBLE to spell)

Kuol - chronic abscesses, pain, and joint instability due to traumatic puncture wounds (or would the be called slash wounds? He was injured at war and the other side uses NOTHING but sharp crap)

Lucian - CRPS around his right foreleg, severe back pain due to spinal injuries, osteoarthritis in both shoulders and neck due to crush injuries (a boat's mast fell on him, thanks Lars)

Sacha - (note that she's a griffin) chronic pain and instability in wings

That's it folks! Again, if I got anything wrong, my apologies. This is solely for fun – combine medicine and character creation, who wouldn't like that?

Anyways, thanks for reading and have a great day (or night, whichever you prefer).

[drsanjaygupta-1]

Best Orthopaedic Doctor Vaishali Ghaziabad

Finding the Best Orthopaedic Doctor in Vaishali, Ghaziabad: A Spotlight on Dr. Sanjay Gupta

When it comes to maintaining a healthy, active lifestyle, your bones and joints play a crucial role. Whether you're dealing with chronic pain, a recent injury, or looking to prevent future issues, finding the right orthopaedic doctor is essential. For residents of Vaishali, Ghaziabad, Dr. Sanjay Gupta stands out as a top choice for orthopaedic care. In this blog, we'll explore why Dr. Gupta is highly regarded and what makes his practice a leading option for those seeking expert orthopaedic treatment.

Why Choose Dr. Sanjay Gupta?

Expertise and Experience: Dr. Sanjay Gupta brings a wealth of experience to his practice. With years of specialized training and hands-on experience in orthopaedics, he is well-versed in diagnosing and treating a wide range of musculoskeletal issues. His expertise encompasses everything from sports injuries and fractures to complex joint replacements and spinal surgeries.

Comprehensive Care: One of the hallmarks of Dr. Gupta’s practice is his commitment to providing comprehensive care. He doesn’t just treat the symptoms; he focuses on understanding the root cause of your issues and developing a personalized treatment plan. This approach ensures that patients receive care that is tailored to their specific needs, leading to more effective outcomes.

State-of-the-Art Facilities: Dr. Gupta’s clinic is equipped with the latest diagnostic tools and treatment technologies. This allows him to provide precise diagnoses and cutting-edge treatments. Whether it's advanced imaging techniques or minimally invasive surgical options, patients benefit from the best that modern medicine has to offer.

Patient-Centric Approach: At Dr. Gupta’s clinic, the patient always comes first. He emphasizes clear communication and ensures that patients fully understand their condition and treatment options. His empathetic approach helps in alleviating the anxiety often associated with orthopaedic issues and empowers patients to make informed decisions about their care.

Positive Patient Outcomes: Dr. Gupta’s track record speaks for itself. His patients often commend him for his skillful treatment and the positive impact it has had on their quality of life. Many have reported significant improvements in mobility and pain relief, contributing to enhanced overall well-being.

What to Expect During Your Visit

When you visit Dr. Gupta for an orthopaedic consultation, you can expect a thorough evaluation. He will take the time to discuss your symptoms, medical history, and any concerns you might have. Following a detailed examination, he will recommend a treatment plan that could include physical therapy, medication, or surgical options, depending on your condition.

Dr. Gupta’s approach is holistic, addressing not just the immediate issue but also considering factors that might contribute to your musculoskeletal health in the long term. His goal is to ensure that you not only recover but also achieve optimal functional recovery.

Getting in Touch

If you’re in Vaishali, Ghaziabad, and are seeking expert orthopaedic care, Dr. Sanjay Gupta is a name you can trust. For appointments or more information about his services, visit Dr. Sanjay Gupta’s website or call his clinic directly.

Final Thoughts

Choosing the right orthopaedic doctor is a critical decision that can greatly influence your recovery and overall health. Dr. Sanjay Gupta’s expertise, combined with his patient-centric approach and advanced facilities, makes him an excellent choice for anyone in need of orthopaedic care in Vaishali, Ghaziabad. Don’t let musculoskeletal issues hold you back—reach out to Dr. Gupta and take the first step towards a healthier, pain-free future.

📍 Location: Unit 3D - 5L, Wave City Center, Sector 32, Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201301 🌐 Website: https://drsanjaygupta.info/

[gaelic-symphony]

A Year in the Life: September

Twelve vignettes from the married life of Tara Lewis and Emily Prentiss, written for the Year of the OTP writing challenge.

Prompt: Hurt/comfort. Also fills the square "I'll take care of you" for @prentiss-theorem's bingo challenge.

Words: 652

Warnings: Hospitals, minor injuries (nothing too graphic)

Read on AO3 or below the cut

            Chasing after unsubs in boots over uneven terrain meant there was always the possibility of injury, and Tara felt the pop as her leg gave way beneath her and she tumbled to the ground.  An x-ray at the hospital confirmed it: Her ankle was broken.  Emily rushed over to the hospital as soon as she got the call from Matt that Tara was hurt, and she flung open the door to the hospital room where an orthopedist was preparing gauze and plaster to wrap Tara’s ankle.

            “Tara, honey, what happened?” she cried as she hurried over to her wife’s side.

            “I’m okay,” Tara assured her, “I just fell, no big deal.”

            “Your wife has a lateral malleolus fracture,” the doctor said, “The lower part of her fibula is broken.  It’s a clean break, and she’ll make a full recovery without surgery.  There’s no need to worry, Mrs. Lewis.”

            Emily felt a little flush and a pleasant tingle in her spine at hearing herself addressed that way, and she smiled down at Tara and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

            “Okay, now, Tara, this will probably hurt a bit,” the doctor continued, “But before I put the cast on, I need to realign the bone so it’ll heal properly.”

            “Need a hand to hold, babe?” Emily offered, extending her hand to Tara.

            Tara grabbed Emily’s hand, and the doctor gently put his hand on Tara’s swollen ankle, letting her take a breath and prepare herself for what he was about to do.  He squeezed her ankle joint, expertly manipulating everything back into place.  Tara groaned in pain and grasped Emily’s hand as tight as she could, her fingernails digging into Emily’s skin.  With her free hand, Emily gently stroked Tara’s hair and planted a soothing kiss on the top of her head.  Once the doctor had finished setting the bone, Tara relaxed her grip on Emily’s hand and pulled it closer to kiss it.

            “You’re doing great, Tara,” the doctor said, “The hard part’s over.”

            “Are you sure the hard part’s not going to be having this big heavy cast on my leg for the next six weeks?” Tara chuckled wryly.

            The doctor began wrapping Tara’s ankle, first in soft gauze, then in hard plaster.  It was still tender, and Tara would occasionally wince in pain as the layers of the cast were added to particularly sensitive spots.  Each time she winced, Emily wrapped her arm around Tara’s shoulders a little tighter and pulled her a little closer, as if she were trying to protect her wife from the pain.

            “Last time I had a cast it was lime green,” Tara said wistfully, looking at the plain white plaster the doctor had just encased her leg in.

            “How old were you?” Emily laughed.

            “Eleven,” Tara said, “I fell off my bike and broke my arm.”

            “Did all your friends sign your cast?” Emily asked.

            “Of course!” Tara replied, “That was the best part!”

            “Maybe you can get the team to sign your cast back at the office,” Emily joked.

            “Guess I’m gonna be spending a lot of time there now,” Tara grumbled, “How long until I’m back in the field, doctor?”

            “Oh, it’ll be at least a couple of months,” the doctor said, “Even once the cast comes off, you’ll still have some healing to do.  Your body can’t just bounce back from a broken bone like it did when you were eleven.  You’ll need to stay off that ankle and ease back into things.  Don’t push yourself too hard.”

            “I’ll make sure she doesn’t overdo it, doc,” Emily assured him.

            Tara rolled her eyes.  “Emily…”

            “Nuh uh,” Emily shook her head, “Don’t even bother arguing.  I’m taking you home, and you’re going to get plenty of rest.”

            “Don’t you have to get back to work?” Tara asked.

            “The team can take care of the case,” Emily said, “I’ll take care of you.”