#mediwhumpmay day 6

[autobot2001]

Necessary

@themerrywhumpofmay: under the table @mediwhumpmay: needle phobia

*Writing a little backward to post in order of days. Day 8 begins a day of health exams for the medics to do. This is one of them.* The condition Jamie has is made up.

"Jamie is one of the next three," Jolt tells the other two medics. "You say that like she's a challenge," Jasmine comments. "Up until I need to draw blood, she's fine. You know why I need to get a blood sample from her. Even if I could prick her finger and use that small amount, she'll put up a fight."

To make matters worse, Jamie's guardians, Crosshairs and Drift, must work today. Drift is particularly not pleased that Prowl wouldn't let him be twenty minutes late, and even the Autobots he works with argued it would be fine. The three medics know he does not like how Jamie will fight the medics, and it's not just shoving the medics away.   "It's interesting how a warrior can be terrified of needles. Especially when your other fearful patient is Sunstreaker; with the life he and Sideswipe had, you'd think he wouldn't be terrified of needles," Drift comments and leaves.

Ratchet says nothing about drawing blood when he walks into the room. The exam went as he thought; he checked everything he needed, which didn't require Jamie to change. The second he said 'draw blood,' Jamie got anxious; he tries to keep her calm, which results in him being shoved back to the counters. The other two medics are in their offices when they see Jamie run past them.

Sunstreaker walks down the hall to the training room, watching the medics leave the medbay. He didn't think Ratchet would tell him what was going on, and he's still determining whether it's Ratchet's way of telling him he's to help. If I didn't see her run by me, then there are only two places she could be, but only one is a good hiding place. Sunstreaker thinks and goes into the confidence room.

The room isn't used often, and Sunstreaker can see that the next meeting isn't scheduled for another week; the last meeting was two months ago. With how the chairs are, he sees Jamie once he gets on the floor and moves a couple of chairs. "Why do you have the medics panicking?" He asks. Once Jamie said 'health exam,' he understood the problem, "hiding here isn't helping. Come on." Jamie doesn't move back to get away from Sunstreaker, who thought Jamie would put up a fight.

"...I need to monitor the chemical level," Ratchet explains, "be happy I can get a blood sample every six months." The two mechs hate how Jamie is getting anxious. Sunstreaker knows holding Jamie while Ratchet does what he needs won't help much, but he knows the risk if he tells Ratchet to forget about the blood sample.

Sunstreaker is hoping loosely restraining js enough. Both mechs hate how Jamie is crying, and Sunstreaker thought that's all the two would deal with until Jamie passed out just as Ratchet finished. "Frag, that's never happened before," Ratchet worries, "but she should be ok. Just make sure she drinks water when she wakes up." Ratchet caps the vial and leaves the room. Sunstreaker knows Ratchet isn't more worried about testing the blood sample than how Jamie is unconscious. Sideswipe, are you done teaching your class? Sunstreaker asks through the bond. Jamie needs cheering up. Sunstreaker didn't think Sideswipe would worry and ask questions. He tells Sideswipe he'll explain in hopefully ten minutes. Jamie wakes up as the conversation ends. "You're ok. Here drink some water,' Sunstreaker hands her his water bottle, "once Ratchet says we can leave, we'll meet Sideswipe in the lounge room."

Sideswipe thought he could multitask by playing video games with Jamie and talking to Sunstreaker through their bond so Jamie doesn't hear them, but he loses the race to Jamie within five minutes, which Jamie thinks is funny.

Later that day, Sunstreaker asks Ratchet how necessary a blood sample is. "It's not so much to detect a flare-up," Ratchet explains, "that's impossible. There's an interesting interaction between Saiyan blood and the chemical, and it's hard to explain in simple terms. It's been working like a medication to limit the severe flare-ups. So other methods, like a urine test, won't work. Sunstreaker regrets figuring it out. "Have you researched Energon helping her?" "No, with how different Jamie is from other humans, I worry there will be consequences that I won't be able to discover before a transfusion. The obvious is the Saiyan blood, and there's too much unknown that I won't be able to get answers for. I know it's been eleven years since I've gotten a blood sample from her, and I am curious if this has been kept up, but the results weren't saved. Even if the others didn't keep up this schedule, I'd rather get back to it." Sunstreaker understands why and doesn't argue. He doesn't think he'll be able to understand how Saiyan blood works like medication. He only hopes Ratchet figures out a cure soon.

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

Day 6: Needlephobic - Medi Whump May

Medi Whump May Masterlist

CWs: needles (obviously), restraints

Whumpee smiled gleefully, bending over the table Whumpee was strapped to.

"I have something for you, today. Something that is finally going to break you, my precious unbreakable doll."

"You won't. You can't break me." Whumpee spat.

"Oh darling, I'm just getting started." Whumper drawled.

They moved out of Whumpee's field of vision.

"You can do whatever you like to me. I'm not going to give you what you want. You're just a monster, and I don't give monsters what they want." Whumpee knew they were babbling, anxiety making them keep talking. "And you know what, I don't even like you. You're creepy and ugly and-"

Whumper returned, clutching a syringe with a long, thin needle.

"What's the matter, Whumpee? Scared of a little needle?" Whumper smirked.

"Please, no, anything but this-" Whumpee stammered.

Whumper chuckled mirthlessly. "I heard you don't like shots. I figured I'd give you this special one... It should help you be a little more, well, understanding."

"No." Whumpee begged, as the needle was brought closer and closer to their neck.

Whumper drove the needle, slowly and deliberately, straight into the muscle of Whumpee's neck. A single tear slipped down Whumpee's cheek as the plunger was pressed down and the serum inside it was injected into their veins. Whumper pulled the syringe out, then wiped the tear of Whumpee's cheek.

"There we go, my darling." Whumper smiled down at their doll. "Let's see if this medicine helps with that pesky defiance of yours."

@mediwhumpmay

[faofinn]

Day 6 - Needlephobic

@mediwhumpmay

“I can’t do it.” Tai hated how his voice trembled. “I can’t do it, Hars.”

“You can, it’s okay.” Harrison encouraged. “It’ll take five seconds.” 

“No, Hars, I can’t do it.” He insisted, shoving the lancet and the case with the glucose monitor back at his boyfriend. “I’m fine, I feel fine.” 

“You need to do this, Tai. It’s important to check your sugars. And you can’t not take your insulin.” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll just be careful with what I eat.” 

“It doesn’t work like that, you know that.” 

Tai pulled a face. “I’ll eat and then I’ll like, go for a run or something. It’ll be fine.” 

“It definitely doesn’t work like that. You need to look after yourself. It’s a tiny fingerprick, you won’t even feel it.” 

“It’s a needle.” He protested, his voice low. “I can’t do it.”

His recent diagnosis hadn’t really fully sunk in yet. It had been so overwhelming, and it was a nightmare trying to manage everything. It was just his luck, he hated needles, and now he had to stab himself multiple times a day, to stop him ending up in hospital or worse. Hars had been great, especially since their relationship was relatively new. He’d sort of just stepped up massively, and Tai didn’t quite know what he’d do without him. He’d managed the fingerpricks yesterday, but for some reason he just couldn’t do it today. He’d been sat there trying for what felt like forever, and now the frustrated, anxious tears were threatening to make an appearance. 

“How am I supposed to keep doing this?” Tai’s voice cracked, and he swiped angrily at his eyes where the tears had started. “I can’t do this.”

"Hey, hey. Look at me." Harrison softened, resting a hand on Tai's cheek. "You can. You keep going because I'm gonna be right there to help when you can't. I'll be with you every step of the way."

“I can’t even do a stupid fucking fingerprick!”

"It's not just a fingerprick, though, is it?" He said gently. "Because you know that it's gonna either mean you need to take more insulin or food, and you know it's not just a one off. It's hard."

“I’m the world’s shittest diabetic.” He grumbled. 

"Can I let you into a secret?"

“What?”

"Nearly every single newly diagnosed diabetic is the same."

“But they’re kids and it doesn’t matter because they don’t know any different.” 

"They're usually the ones who deal better with it. Adults struggle the most, and it's completely normal."

“I should be doing better.” He said frustratedly. “Scared of stupid needles.”

"You're doing brilliantly."

“Don’t lie.”

"I wouldn't lie to you."

He rubbed his face. “Can you just do it for me?” He whined.

"Just this once. You can do the next one, yeah?"

He sniffed. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

Harrison leaned in to kiss him. "We've got this, yeah?"

“I don’t think I’ve got this.” He mumbled. 

"Maybe not yet, but I've got you."

“I have to do this for the rest of my life.” He said. “What about when you’re not here? When I’m at work? When you’re at work?”

"Then we'll work something out."

“I don’t know.” He said, leaning against him. “I don’t know.”

"You'll be okay. Want me to do this one?" He asked gently. 

He nodded. “Please.”

"Alright. Sharp scratch, yeah?" He warned, watching Tai's face. 

Tai squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his lips together. “Mm.”

Harrison was as gentle as he could be, moving to hold Tai's hand properly once he'd got the sample. He gave it a moment to make sure it was reading, then twisted their hands to his mouth, giving Tai's a soft kiss. 

"Well done."

He winced as he felt the sharp bite of the needle, pulling away. Harrison’s hands, whilst gentle were strong, and he wasn’t going anywhere. As his lips brushed his fingers, he looked over at him. 

“Ow.”

"I know." He murmured, not moving their hands. "I'm sorry."

“It’s okay.” He mumbled. “What’s it saying?”

"Wanna place bets on it? What do you think it is?"

“I don’t know. It’s been on the high side the past couple of days.”

He hummed. "It's 8.3. A little high still, but you're gonna have something to eat too."

“And now I need to take my meds, don’t I?”

"Yeah. Did you weigh your carbs?"

“Mm. Yeah.”

"How many units are we having then?"

“Um…” It took Tai a moment, feeling like an idiot as he stumbled over the maths in his head. “Three?”

Harrison thought a moment. "Four. You've got your mealtime, which is three, that was right. But you've been sitting high, right? So we need to add a unit to correct that."

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” He looked down at his lap. 

"Hey."

“Mm?”

"Can I let you in on a secret?"

“Another one? Spoiling me.” He joked weakly. 

"Arse." He teased. "I didn't do the maths in my head. We've got the ED app, you'll be able to get it too. Makes life easier."

“You always know what you’re doing.” He grumbled. “Mr Know It All.”

"Ouch."

“Love you really. Will you do my insulin for me too? Just this once?”

"I shouldn’t, but come on. Just this once."

“I’ll do it later.”

"You will. You're gonna be just fine."

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Tai didn’t know how he was going to get through this, he really didn’t, but it didn’t seem half as scary with Harrison by his side. 

[genuinehc]

Day 6: Needlephobic

Challenge: Mediwhumpmay 2023 Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends) Prompt: Day 6: Needlephobic Tags/Warnings: hurt/comfort, medical whump, fluff

Challenge: @mediwhumpmay 2023 Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends) Prompt: Day 6: Needlephobic Tags/Warnings: hurt/comfort, medical whump, fluff

Since his (most recent) collapse, Jayce has been accompanying Viktor to his weekly blood draws. 

As with most things in their partnership and lives, it started as expediency: Jayce needed Viktor to give him information about an experiment they were working on and Viktor was late for his appointment, so they walked together. The blood draw wouldn't take long, so rather than walk back separately, Jayce loitered outside the clinic and walked Viktor back, barely a break in their conversational stride.  

And then, as with most things in their partnership and lives, expediency became habit. Jayce kept walking with Viktor, Viktor didn’t tell him not to, and this, too, was another place where their lives became subtly inseparable from each other. 

“...So theoretically, if we run power through the new coupling without adjusting for- oh, pardon, I don’t mean to be in the way-” 

They are standing in front of the clinic door as an older woman comes out and nearly hits Viktor. He catches himself on his crutch on one side and Jayce reaches out a hand to steady him on the other. Rather than issue her own apology, the woman scowls and Viktor shrugs as they both turn to watch her go.  

“Okay, you were saying about the new coupling?” Jayce prompts as Viktor glances at his watch.

“I need to go in-”

“Yeah, of course, just finish the thought, and I’ll let you go-”

“Just come in with me. They don’t mind.”

Jayce’s dark skin turns ashy under the collar of his shirt. “No, no. I couldn’t. You go in. We can finish this later.” 

Viktor frowns, puzzled. “It’s not a problem. Companions come in all the time. Just a blood draw. Little needle, in and out-”

Jayce turns his head at the word needle and Viktor swallows a chuckle. “Oh. Don’t like needles?”

He shakes his head, affronted. “No! It’s not that. I mean, who loves them, right? But it’s no big deal.”

“I really need to go in-” Viktor gestures with his chin to the hand that’s still holding his arm. “Are you coming with me or staying out here?” 

A deep breath. “In. I’m going in,” Jayce says with the air of someone who has agreed to a suicide mission, but doesn’t move from the spot where he has rooted his boots, nor has he let go of Viktor’s arm, which he is gripping hard enough to bruise. . 

“Then we should go,” Viktor gently prods. “Come along.” And when that doesn’t quite work, he tries teasing: “I will tell you all about power couplings and you won’t feel a thing.”

That, at least, gets Jayce moving. 

[its-my-whump]

The Merry Whump of May - Medi Whump May – Day 26

@themerrywhumpofmay: "Hammer time." - pocket watch

@mediwhumpmay: sedation - poisioning

Follow-up: Days 21 - 25

A woman was still talking to her, but everything was a blur by now.

Totally absorbed in the moment, Tonya was starring at Sam's bandana, that he had used to dress the first of many wounds today. Now, it was dirty, dusty, torn and bloody. 'Just like him.'

She just couldn't calm down anymore.

A penlight danced over one eye, than the next. Someone still trying to talk to her.

They gave her a mild sedative to break her emotional overthrow. Apathetically Tonya watched the helicopter been lifted in the air by an invisible force. There was no sound whatsoever.

It totally went by her attention how that SUV just came to be and mystically appeared in the canyon. She was seated in the back, that woman still by her side, two men in the front.

It felt like someone had wrapped her into a tight blanket made of cotton balls. 'That was making no sense.' The ride was bumpy, her body was balancing against the unsteady ground all by itself, as if it was remotely controlled. She tried to listen what they were talking about, but it felt like only listening with one ear, not really paying attention to a running TV.

The man on the passenger side reached into his left pocket, pulled something out and then opened a pocket watch to take a look. 'That was making no sense. Who would still use a pocket watch?'

She tried to redirect her attention to the playing radio. "Hammer time." Someone screamed. Wasn't that supposed to be in a song. She couldn't tell, nothing felt real. There was no context. 'And that was making no sense either.'

Tonya's gaze fell onto her right leg. The bandage was dusty and stained in red and brown. Bright red blood had started tickling down from under the lower rim, finding a way down her dusty leg over the edge of her sock and painted her shoe. She was following every drop with silent fascination.

'Why wasn't it hurting. Why wasn't she feeling anything. Couldn't it at least burn or ache, so she could feel at least something to concentrate on?'

"STOP." Everybody was startled by her sudden outcry. "Stop the car." She ripped the door open, her legs buckled the moment her feet should have supported her bodyweight.

And then it just felt like she was puking her heart out, again and again.

During a little barf-free moment, in which another look onto the disgusting stuff between her hands would have only brought even more disgusting stuff upstairs, her eyes fell onto that bandana wrapped around her hand.

Hot burning tears trailed a path through a dry layer of dust on her face again.

#

Sam reached the hospital alive, but barely. His vitals were already on a straight pass to settling 6 feet under. Severe head trauma, blood loss, a ruptured kidney, broken and fractured rips, from which parts had tried to rearrange themselves inside his torso. Internal bleeding, hypothermia, dehydration, a broken leg, a fractured arm, above literally a few dozen lacerations were too much. He was balancing on the brink of death and didn't regain consciousness.

#

Peter had a bad conscience leaving Sam with Tonya, when he was the one convincing his best friend to give it another shoot while all 4 of them spend the day hiking. If it had turned south, at least there were him and Emily to distracted one of each to save the day. Had he only known how far south it was able to go.

Unfortunately Emily managed to catch herself a bug from their usual take-out place, which then turned out to be food poisoning. Peters intestines probably made of steel hardly registered, that they should have been upset. Still their day trip hiking with Sam and Tonya had to be cancelled. Peter would have never left his girlfriend spending hours of the bowl alone, but the bad conscience regarding Sammy was still there.

On Sunday evening Emily was up and running again, just grabbing herself a tea from the kitchen, while Peter zapped through the channels, simultaneously playing with his phone and the though to call Sam. Peter wasn't really paying attention to the news, still scrolling through his messages. A deep desperate sigh came from behind his back. He turned around, seeing the pale shocked face of Emily starring at the TV screen now behind him. Her lips were trembling, the cup in her hands shaking, when one hand loosened its grip and a finger even more trembling by now was raised to the TV.

Out of reflex Peters head snapped back. The female anchor was in mid sentence, but he didn't understand a word she was saying. His attention was dragged to the footage of a rescue helicopter flying over a canyon. More emergency personal on the ground, vehicles could be seen in the ravine. " two... rescued this morning.... flown to St. James Hospital...." All of it was running through the background of Peters conscious thoughts, when his eyes adjusted on two pictures that had popped up at the upper right side of the screen.

Showing and naming their friends. ".... critical condition..."

A dull sound indicated, that Peters phone just dropped to the floor.

In under 5 minutes they were out to door and on their way to St. James Hospital. Emily was frantically trying to call both friends on their mobiles. The couple couldn't believe, that the news were actually real. Both phones went straight to voicemail, for Sam's was still laying in his car 4.5 miles from that ravine in an area, where there wasn't any reception anyway and Tonya's was broken during her fall.

#

After they got as much conherent information as they could, Emily needed to comfort a weeping Tonya and Peter silently retreated and hesitantly went to see his unconscious friend in the ICU.

Sam was just laying there, unresponsive. Besides countless broken and dislocated bones, he had a serious brain injury. After several hours in surgery his condition was still highly critical.

Peter was staring at his friend. He felt reminded to a similar picture so many years ago. The time there really got to know each other and became friends, best friends.*

A constant spike on the heartmonitor showed, he was still here despite all other signs actually wanted to show him something different. A bloodpressure cuff was on his left, the IV on his right arm. Bags with fluids and a bloodtransfusion by the bed. His right forearm was in a cast.

Half of his face seems to be fighting a contest against the other half covered in white gauze about who's got to be more pale. Sam's skin had a slight advantage, for the gauze was painted with red dots bleeding through.

The sharp contrast of his white chest against colourful bruises, copied from a rainbow, littering it, was disturbing. A tube snaked from under the sheets, leading into a bag with a puddle of light red.

On every part of his exposed skin there were cuts and lacerations. Some of them dressed, some of them stitched, some just hardly touched.

Peters legs were getting more unsteady the longer his eyes scanned the limb body of his friend. He grabbed for a chair and set by his bed, instinctively but gently touching his left bruised hand. There was a slide hiccup in Sam's heartbeat. Peter didn't notice his eyes gotten wet, only now just realised it as the tears started falling.

"God dammit Sammy. I thought, we left all of this shit behind." There was some movement throughout Sam's upper body. Peters voice sounded weak and low, almost unnatural. The lump preventing him to speak any louder.

"You know, it's 13 years today? 13 fucking years, since I saw you like this. To the fucking day, my friend, to the f..." A sob escaped his deepest core unintended, he couldn't end his sentence.

Finally, Peter swallow that lump and cleared his throat. He was fighting to brace himself again. Sam's breathing sped up a bit, it was kind of wheezing. It seemed as if, the atmosphere started to shift.

Peter though the temperature just drops by 10 degrees. Goosebumps crawled over his skin, while his subconscious was already processing what was about to happen.

'There was no way, he was gonna lose his friend over a stupid hiking trip, no fucking way. Not after all, he had been through. Not after his beating sadistic stepfather, not after the hell of social services, not after finally finding his place in life. No fucking way.' Anger was overflowing Peters mind and soul, the cold of his dark thoughts before was forgotten.

Sam's heart was definitely and undeniably acting out by now, his body longing for air. Something was more than wrong here.

Peters pushed the emergency button, his heart had dropped into his stomach. But his voice was strong again, yet still there was a tremor. "Andrew Samuel Cooper! You listen to me! If you decide, to give up on me now, I will most definitely follow you on your toes and kick your damn ass back down here. You understand me?!"

Sam's body was cramping, while his unconscious frantic grasps for breath were indicating, that he was about to suffocate. His limp hand fell back to the bed, when Peter was pushed out of the room. Hot tears just flowing down his cheeks.

(That was the moment, leading to the necessity of a chest tube.)

TBC (here)

I may have built a bridge to Sammys aka Andys (Andrew Samuel Coopers) past and how Peter and him get to know each other so many years ago. The whumpril stories stand for themselves, no reference to the whumping in May. Please have merci, those were my first writings.

Whumpril

Day 23

Day 27

Day 29

Day 30

[astaldis]

Our champions prevailed

@mediwhumpmay​ 

@witchermonstermayhem​

Chapter 5/6 of “You’d be wise to beware”

Prompts: Stitches, Field medicine, Myriapod, Centipede, Wicked wings

Fandom: The Witcher

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier, Cahir

Rating: Mature

Jaskier does not leave Geralt's side the entire time while they wait. Cahir gets some water from the lake for them, and the sausages and bread, but neither of the two feels particularly hungry. They take turns at making sure the life-saving tube stays in place, at holding Geralt's hand and calming him down whenever he wakes up. Luckily, he does not seem to be in a lot of pain, at least not for Witcher standards, and becomes more and more lucid as time drags on like molasses on a cold winter day. Only it is quite hot in the searing afternoon sun. Jaskier wets his silken neckerchief to wipe Geralt's sweaty face. It should be possible for him to drink some sips of water, too, as the oesophagus is not affected. However, Jaskier and Cahir decide against it. It might be risky after all. Better to wait until their friend can breathe normally again. It is not that long until sundown.

As the afternoon sun slowly nears the horizon, Cahir stands up.

"You think it's time?" Jaskier asks nervously.

Cahir nods. He walks over to where the horses are peacefully nibbling at the lush vegetation of the lakeshore. How fortunate that Witchers always have some basic dressing material in their saddle bags, including needle and thread which can be equally used to sew up cuts in their clothes and cuts in their skin.

"So, how do we do it?" Jaskier inquires when Cahir returns with the required utensils and hunkers down next to him.

"One of us holds the wound open and swabs the blood from it if necessary. The other one withdraws the tube, sews up the windpipe as quickly and tightly as possible, and then the skin of the throat. While we both make sure somehow that Geralt doesn't move."

"Sounds like a breeze, exactly what I've always wanted to do," Jaskier jests although he does not feel like joking, not at all.

Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47067388/chapters/119219368

[inscrutable-shadow]

Mediwhump May Day 6 - Poisoning (Alt Prompt)

@mediwhumpmay

This is the generic modern AU for Five Card Draw. The Doctor is often called upon to work with other medical professionals on research, and they use the name Rowan Fairbank for non-criminal dealings. Also, just a PSA: don't fuck with people's food! It's illegal, immoral, and not just a prank, you don't always know a person's full medical history and even if you do it's not worth fucking around and finding out.

The Doctor could almost always tell when their colleagues were talking about them behind their back. Not least because it was a near-constant phenomenon, but also because when a person is used to being stared at upon entering a room, when everyone is deliberately avoiding eye contact with you, it’s quite noticeable. They wouldn’t confront anyone over it. It wasn’t worth it and any opportunity to avoid a social interaction was greatly appreciated.

Today, though, there was a sinister edge to the attention. They’d dealt with the criminal underworld long enough to gain an intuition for when other people were conspiring against them, and this feeling was not at all subtle. Best to just top-up their thermos with coffee, shove a scone in their mouth, and get out of the break room. They hated working on this project. Everyone treated them as if their achievements had been bought for them and they didn’t deserve to be there, but taking the assignment seriously had them accused of being a “stick in the mud.” “Hi, Rowan!” The words were cheery, but the voice was dripping with condescension. The Doctor closed their eyes for a moment, taking a steadying breath, then turned to attempt a smile at the person speaking to them: Dr Rose Gallagher, a pulmonologist.

“Good afternoon, Rose.” They tried to go back to their coffee, hoping she would just go away.

She did not. “How’s your coffee? Still no sugar?”

“No, I drink too much to put sugar in, it would be even more unhealthy…” There was enough sugar in the energy drinks, anyhow.

The gaggle of (fully grown, adult) doctors at the other end of the room found this incredibly amusing. “And the gluten-free scones? Those good too?” Wait. That emphasis… Had they…? The Doctor nearly choked on the pastry.

“They are… fine… I am not exactly hungry…” They really weren’t. Their stomach had sunk at the thought that something in the breakroom had been tainted. One would think it would be ridiculous for some of the leading medical minds in the country to do something as awful as intentionally cross-contaminate gluten-free items, but not only were several of the doctors on this placement considerably dumber than their accolades would suggest, they seemed perfectly willing to set aside any question of ethics in the harassment of someone who was different.

The exposure had already occurred. Nothing to be done about it now but scare the living daylights out of their abusers, which would make a very long forty-eight hours worth it. “Surely you are aware of the potential long-term effects of gluten exposure for a celiac patient? Unlikely to kill, yes, but lifelong damage is almost a certainty. My case is particularly severe and quite well managed; it is often five or more years between exposures. My being forced to take two or three days off will delay the project enough for Doctor Pryor to be quite displeased, no?”

“Oh, come on, Rowan, nobody really believes that.” The Doctor didn’t know this man’s name; he was on one of the engineering teams and they were almost exclusively working with pharmaceuticals. “It’s a convenient excuse for having your own coffeepot and no one ever seeing you eat, you owe me thirty, by the way,” he leaned over to Zoster, a neurologist, “but that’s all it is, an excuse for Doctor Pryor to coddle you. You’re completely normal behind that stick up your ass and this proves it. You’re fine.”

“It is not like an allergy. Did you even pass medical school? The small intestine causes the issue. Ridiculous. I could have your licenses for this.” They should have their licenses for this, but it was an empty threat. Too much work and it would only further turn everyone against them. Nothing about their demeanour implied they were anything less than deadly serious, though.

This caused a murmur of uncertainty among the group. “You… can’t prove anything. Maybe the kitchen made a mistake.”

Oh, this was fun. “No? Did you fail to notice the security camera in the corner?” They indicated with their coffee cup, then took a sip. If it was also tainted, well, it couldn’t get worse, could it? “That’s live-feed, you know. It will show someone touching my food items. Also, you did just admit to it. Doctor Pryor has me under audio surveillance to ensure I do not… antagonise my colleagues. I turn in the recordings daily, but I could perhaps be convinced to alter them.” That last bit wasn’t true, but only the Doctor knew that. “Rowan, be reasonable. It was just a prank!”

“I did not find it amusing.”

“...What do you want? Cash?”

They laughed. “Certainly not. Though I do think I just found five lovely volunteers to do all of my cultures for the next several weeks. There are plenty of other menial tasks it seems I will also be converting into free time, but for now, I shall continue my break.” Or rather, take the afternoon off. They left the room, not bothering to eavesdrop on the urgent whispers they left behind.

Two days of cramping and brain fog. Fantastic. They were never going to take an assignment like this again.

taglist: @i-eat-worlds

[sticks-and-stones-are-great]

Mediwhump May - Day 6

"Needlephobic"

(Mystery Men - 1999)

@mediwhumpmay

“What was he wearing?” Roy limped over to the curb, Eddie guiding him by the arm.

“Shingles.” Eddie grunted as they sat down together.

Jeff shielded his eyes from the flashing blue and red lights across the street. “He had fashioned them into some kind of armor. My forks were nearly useless.”

Roy grimaced as he stretched out his leg.

“You got him eventually, right in the ass.” Eddie added. 

“True.” Jeff sighed as he counted his leftover ammunition. “He deserved it. Especially for the nails. Why does one decide to use a nail gun when interrupting a performance of Shakespeare in the Skate Park?”

“Roofing.” Roy grasped the long nail embedded in the meat of his inner thigh and pulled. It slid free, painfully, covered in blood. Roy let out a long whine and held back a sob. “His theme is roofing.” He rasped. 

“Oh.” Eddie nodded. “The shingles, the nail gun, the-”

“The rebellion against roofless theater productions?” Jeff finished. 

“So weird.” Roy sighed. “But dedicated.”

Eddie caught sight of the bloody nail that Roy held. “Oh no, Roy, you should have let the medics take that out.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Roy waved him off. “I’ve had worse. Besides, they’re busy with Mercutio.”

“I suppose-” Eddie cut himself off. “Oh come on, Roy, you’ve got one in your hand!” He grabbed Roy’s wrist and held it up.

The long nail had flown through Roy’s palm and the tip poked through the back of his hand. It wasn’t bleeding much, but that was because the nail was plugging the hole. 

Jeff frowned. “How many did he get you with, Roy?”

“I dunno.” Roy shrugged. He was tired and sore and thinking was hard. “ A few.”

“A few?” Eddie stood up. “How do you not know? Hang on, let’s do a count. I can’t believe I have to do this for you.”

“I can believe it.” Jeff stood up too. 

“Going to need a metal detector.”

“Come on, guys. I just wanna go home.” Roy whined. 

“Okay, so one in the hand.” Eddie ignored him and began to circle, looking for other nails. “One in the boot. Ouch, straight through your foot.” “Yeah, I was nailed to the stage for a minute.” Roy laughed weakly.

Jeff laughed as well then quickly stopped. “The one from his thigh.”

“Three so far.” Eddie nodded. 

“I think that’s it.” Roy grumbled.

“Let’s at least get you checked out.” Eddie offered his hand to help Roy up from the curb. “Also when was the last time you got your tetanus shot?”

“My what?”

Eddie looked over at Jeff, who nodded silently.

“Let’s go to the clinic.”

“Aw, man.” Roy whined.

Ten minutes later, they piled out of Eddie’s car and into the 24-hour clinic. It was quiet around midnight so the wait was pretty short. A nurse took Roy back, and Eddie and Jeff stayed in the waiting room. 

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Eddie asked Jeff, flipping through a sticky magazine.

“Oh.” Jeff thought for a moment. “Five minutes.” He answered.

“How about ten?”

“You’re on. I’ll watch the clock.”

Four minutes later, the nurse reappeared. 

Jeff stood up. “You owe me dinner.”

The nurse walked over. “Would either of you be able to accompany your friend? He’s…” She searched for a word. “Agitated.”

Eddie stood too. “We’ll both come back.”

The nurse led them back to the examination room. Roy immediately tried to leave as soon as she opened the door. 

“Eddie, I’m fine. Let’s leave. Get me out of here.” Roy spoke quickly in a low mutter. “Come on, Jeff, let’s go, let’s go.”

“Whoa, there.” Eddie gently corralled Roy back in, like a spooked horse. “They’re just going to give you a little check-up, Roy.”

“And a shot!” Roy’s voice almost squeaked. “I don’t-... I don’t like…” “Don’t like needles.” Eddie finished. 

Roy sat back down on the exam table, pale and sweating. “Yeah.” He whispered. 

“We know, that’s why we’re here.” Eddie reassured. “It’ll be really quick. You don’t want tetanus, right?”

“Lock-jaw, Roy.” Jeff chimed in, seating himself in a nearby chair. 

“That actually sounds better than the shot.” Roy said.

“You won’t even feel it.” Eddie said. “Besides, you’ve been stabbed before, Roy, how are you scared of needles?”

“I dunno. I’d rather be stabbed. Can they do that? Use a knife? For the shot?” Roy looked around. “Or a scalpel. Anything but…” He trailed off. 

“You know.” Jeff tapped his chin in thought. “This reminds me of the time we saved the blood drive nurses from the Blood Bandits and you lost so much blood that they just strapped you in the chair to give you blood with that absolutely enormous needle-”

“Okay, okay.” Roy hopped off the table. “I’m leaving.”

“I can’t let you do that, Roy.” Eddie stood in his way. “As your friend, I am going to make sure you get this shot.”

Roy laughed, pretended to back off, then feinted to the left, and made a dash to the right. He tried to get to the door. But he was full of nails and too slow. 

Eddie grabbed him. Jeff stood in front of the door. 

And then the doctor walked in. 

“What have we here?” She asked. 

All three of them stopped struggling. 

“Nothing.” Roy straightened his coat. 

“Nothing.” Eddie let go of Roy.

“Nothing.” Jeff picked up a fork he’d dropped. 

“I see.” The doctor put down her clipboard. “Well, which one of you is Roy?”

Jeff pointed at Roy.

“Thanks, man.” Roy sighed. 

“I will take a bullet for you, Roy, but not a shot”

The doctor sighed. “So Roy, you had an accident with a…” She turned a page. “Nail?”

“Nail gun.” Eddie corrected. 

“Okay, and how many nails?” “Three.” Roy sighed.

“We think.” Jeff added. 

“You think?” The doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Pretty sure.” Eddie admitted.

“Uh-huh.” The doctor paused for a moment, looked over each of them, then proceeded. “Well, let’s get those nails out, Roy. Then we’ll go from there.”

Roy nodded, almost green.

The doctor and an assistant bandaged the thigh wound and extracted the nail from Roy’s foot. The hand was last. Slowly, carefully, the doctor took the nail out and dressed the wound. She kept up a conversation with Roy the whole time, who was visibly relaxing. 

Once that was done, Roy sighed. “That wasn’t so bad. Could we save the-... the shot for another day.”

“No, we can’t.” The doctor answered. 

“Why not?”

“Because we’ve already done it.” The doctor stepped back. She had been blocking Roy’s line of sight of his other arm. 

The assistant was currently pulling a needle out of Roy’s shoulder.

“Oh.” Roy swayed. And fainted.

“There he goes.” Eddie sighed.

“He’s reliable.” Said Jeff.

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

Mediwhump May 2023 collection

This fun challenge by @mediwhumpmay is 31 days and 31 prompts. I'm currently behind a bit so if I don't catch up, I'll do a couple here and there even if I finish late. I'm doing some fanfic, some OCs.

Day 1: IV/cannula - Whumpee + Caretaker + Medic

Day 2: Stitches - Supernatural fanfic

Day 3: Alternate Prompt Infection -

Day 4: Pain - Supernatural fanfic

Day 5: No Response - Hero + Sidekick

Day 6: Needlephobic - Whumper + Whumpee

Day 7: First Night in Hospital - Titans fanfic

Day 8: Scared of Blood - Super Villain + Villain + Hero

Day 9: Oxygen - Supernatural fanfic

Day 10: Short of breath - Whumpee + Whumper

Day 11: Withdrawal - Whumpee and Caretaker

Day 12: "Just one more sip" - Whumpee and Whumper

Day 13: Surgery - Hero and Medic

Day 14: Loss of Consciousness - Supernatural fanfic

Day 15: Nauseau/Vomiting combined W Alternate prompt Poison - OC Queen + Servant

Day 16: Dizzy - Titans DC fanfic

Day 17: Stay with Me - Supernatural fanfic

[faofinn]

Day 9 - Oxygen

@mediwhumpmay

Fao’s chest had been bothering him. It definitely wasn’t right, as much as he tried to ignore it. Some virus or another had been floating round as always, the kids bringing god knows what home from school. He’d been suffering with it, the way he always did, but he was trying to push through. He didn’t particularly have a choice, he had to work. At least he wasn’t as busy as he had been in the past. Working up to clinical lead, he’d been doing more admin and taking more responsibilities that way, which meant more time at his desk. That was no bad thing, especially when he felt like shite. 

That didn’t mean he was purely non clinical, and today he’d been picking up the slack of an understaffed service. He’d rushed down the stairs to ED, called down for a consult, and his breath caught in his chest to the point he had to pause at the nurse’s station, trying to ignore the wheeze. 

The cough wasn’t great either, and Fao winced when it started, knowing just how bad he sounded. It didn’t last long, and he paused to push some hair from his face, still leaning against the nurse’s station for a moment longer to pull himself together. 

"Wolfie. Fucking finally." Harrison rounded the corner, shaking his head at Fao. "We paged you lot ages ago."

Fao cleared his throat, huffing at Harrison. “Understaffed.” He said gruffly. “Who am I seeing?”

Harrison narrowed his eyes. "How long have you been sick?"

He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

"You're not. Jamie? Which room is free at the moment?"

“Oh, don’t start, you know what my chest is like.” He said, but didn’t move. “Which patient am I seeing?”

"Yeah, fuck that. Call gensurg again for me? I'm gonna take Fao down to 6." Harrison ignored Fao. 

“Good luck trying to get someone else.” Fao said, but his voice cracked and the coughing started again, undermining him. He could feel the wheeze in his chest, the tightness across his ribs and the lingering pain under his sternum. The coughing itself made him feel dizzy, and he pressed his lips together. 

"Yeah, no.  You're not alright." Harrison moved to support Fao, his arm wrapped around the other man. "Come on, before you end up collapsing."

Fao groaned, leaning into Harrison as the room lurched and his legs gave out from under him. 

"You fucker." Harrison swore, shifting to pick Fao up. "Someone get the doors, please! We're going to resus."

People made space for them, concerned muttering as the resus doors were opened. Jamie, who had appeared not long after Hars originally called for him, found an empty bay, calling the doctor into it. 

"Right then, we all know Fao. Just collapsed, shortness of breath, multiple previous spontaneous pneumos. He decompensates very quickly. I need full obs on him please, and if someone can get the X-ray, that would be great." Harrison called to their team, moving to listen to Fao's chest.

Fao came round quickly, batting at Harrison’s hands on him. “Piss off.” He grumbled. 

"Yeah, lovely. How long has your chest been fucked?"

“Since I was 17?” He tried, but the cough that followed didn’t help him out. 

"Faolan. Don't be a dickhead."

“Ooh, full name.” He teased weakly. “I’ve had some shitty cold since last week an’ I can’t shift the cough.”

"How long have you been wheezing for? Bringing anything up?"

“Last few days? Mostly dry.” 

"Have you bothered to take your inhaler?"

Fao shot him a look. “You have to ask?”

"If Sheila doesn't kill you, I'm going to."

He rolled his eyes, turning to cough. “It’s fine, ’m fine.”

One of the nurses huffed. “Fao, can you stop fidgeting so we can get some obs? Please?”

“I’m fine, honestly. All a fuss about nothing.” He protested. 

Harrison could have smacked him. He returned to Fao's side, face like thunder. "Fao, I swear to god. When you collapse on me again, you lose the right to complain. Lie still and let us do what we have to do. You look like shit, the obs we've got have been shit, and let me guess, you feel like shit."

“I jus’ went a little faint, it happens.” He protested. “I’ll be fine.”

He glared at him. "So your sats are supposed to be in the eighties?"

Fao hesitated. “Eighties?”

"You're sitting 89."

“Oh. Deep breaths, then.”

"And oxygen. You need some nebs."

“It’s probably jus’ postural, let me sit up and I’ll be better.”

Harrison didn't bother replying, but let the nurse by his bed adjust Fao to sit up. "Can someone get me five of salbutamol and five hundred ipratropium? We'll get a litre of normal saline running, start him on a broad spectrum abx, when we get bloods back, they can change it. Have we got the ecg done? Ah, brill."

He took a moment to read over Fao's strip. "You got any chest pain? Any palpitations? How have they been the past few days?"

Fao went to answer, but quickly changed his mind as he saw Harrison’s face. "It's been a bit tight but it’s not been awful. Nothing close to what it used to be. Thought it was just the infection. Is it that bad?"

"It doesn't look like you're having a heart attack or anything, but you've got a few runs of AF I'm not too happy with." He admitted. "Nothing I'm going to run off to cardio with you for, but enough that I want you to stay on monitoring for a little bit. Chances are, it's just the infection. We'll get that sorted, and you'll be better."

Fao nodded. “I hope I’m not having a fucking heart attack.” He grumbled. “I’ve really not felt that awful, I swear.” If Harrison was worried about his ECG, then maybe things were serious. Ely was going to kill him. 

"Can we get some IV hydrocortisone too? And a gram of IVP, help with this pain, settle the temp too, hopefully." Harrison called to his team, taking stock of his observations again. He listened to Fao's chest again, and nodded. There was a slight improvement to the wheeze, but it only highlighted the crackles. God knows how long he’d had this infection brewing.

Happy things were moving in the right direction, and that the staff were sorting the things he'd requested, he pulled the chair closer to Fao's side. "Hey, sorry for being a bit pushy."

"A bit?" He managed a laugh. “Try a lot.”

"Don't be an arse." Harrison said, reaching for Fao’s hand and giving it a squeeze. "You really aren't very well at the minute. I bet this has been going on for longer than you're gonna admit, but it's gonna get sorted. 

"I know you know the medical side of things more than most of my patients, but sometimes that makes it harder for you, too." He sighed. "Right now? I think you've got a pretty nasty infection that's more than likely this cough you've got going on. Your lactate is pretty high right now, obviously your oxygen is a fair bit lower than we want, and your heart rate is fast. Part of the rate will be the nebs we're slamming into you, but at the same time, I think you're septic. 

"We're gonna keep you here, try get this wheeze sorted first and then send you down to x-ray. You've got good air entry, I'm not too worried that you've got a pneumo or anything, but with your history, I want to be safe. We'll try and get your pain under a bit more control, get you more comfortable, but I need you to tell me. We're not mind readers, although I can tell when you're bullshitting me." He squeezed his hand again. "Is there anything you want from me? Anything you want me to do? Do you want me to call Ely? Sheila?"

“Sorry, septic?” He asked, taking a moment to take in all Harrison had told him. He felt bad, sure, but he’d been convinced it was nothing more that a chest infection he was struggling to shift, a bit of a wheeze that would go in time, a nice hangover from all of his history. He’d not been expecting Harrison to be that worried. He definitely felt crap, and Hars was right, the nebs weren’t helping his heart rate to feel any better. “It doesn’t feel like a pneumo, it just feels shitty.” He admitted. “You should call both of them. I’m not going to be able to escape without an admission, am I? Have you sorted another gensurg consult for that patient of yours? I think the bleep is still in my pocket.”

"The other patient is doing a lot better than you currently are. I'll be honest, right now, I'm doing my best to keep you from HDU." He sighed,  breaking from his doctor mode. "You've really not been well, Fao. Why didn't you tell someone? You've been running after the kids like a maniac, too. They'd have got someone in to cover you, take some of the pressure off. You need to put yourself first, or at least higher up on the chain."

“You can piss off with HDU.” He told him, digging in his pockets for the hard plastic of his bleep, which he shoved at Hars. “I honestly don’t have time to be ill. I took a couple of days off last week when I felt rotten, got some rest, but then I needed to come back in. I’ve not been sniffly, just the cough, and I can manage that. Not smoked in a week. The kids have so much on, and unsurprisingly they’ve not been well either. Been doing more non clinical hours, but we’re a surgeon down today and I had no other choice.”

"Well excuse me for giving a shit about you." He retorted. "You're my best friend, I need you to be okay."

“I’ll be fine. Supposed to be picking the kids up, though.”

"Tai's off today, he'll pick them up."

“Thanks. Ely’s on nights and she can’t get them picked up and sorted before she needs to come in.” He mumbled. “Sorry I fainted on you.”

"They can come have a sleepover. It's not a problem." He dropped his gaze. "I really can't lose you, Fao. I need you, and that means you need to put yourself first."

Fao cleared his throat, pushing at Hars gently. “Shush. You’re not getting rid of me.”

"I'm not that shit of a cons."

“Oh, course not.”

Harrison smiled. "How's everything feeling now?"

“Bit better.” He admitted. 

"Can I have a listen?"

Fao nodded. “Mm, go on.”

"Thanks." He hummed, standing with a groan. He listened to Fao's chest again, taking a moment. "Good news or bad news?"

Once Harrison had finished, Fao shuffled to get comfortable again. “Bad first.”

"The infection sounds like shit."

“And the good news?” He tried, looking hopeful.

"Your wheeze has pretty much gone, you've got really good air entry - especially for your chest, I'm surprised. And your blood pressure is doing a lot better."

Fao grinned. “So no HDU?”

"We'll move you to monitoring in a bit, too. I want to keep an eye on your lactate, but it’s looking hopeful."

“Good.” He said, and after a minute. “Thank you.”

"You're welcome." Harrison returned his grin. "Even if you do make my life difficult."

“I know it’s clinically a bad picture…” He murmured. “But I’ve felt worse than this.”

"That's not something to be proud of."

“No, it’s… I honestly didn’t think it was this bad. Almost felt worse wit’ the cold?”

"I know, it's okay."

“Didn’t know the AF was bad.”

"I've seen it worse. It's probably just because of the infection, the nebs, all of that. They're not long runs, and they're not super fast, nowhere near where they have been."

Fao nodded. “Haven’t really noticed it, an’ I usually do. Haven’t been bothered for ages, cardio told me to piss off.”

"Course they did." He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I'm not surprised you didn't. Your body was busy compensating for everything else."

He nodded again. “Yeah. Sorry. Is Finn in?”

"Should be soon. Sheila should be dropping him off, actually." He grinned. "Rock, paper, scissors for who has to call her?"

“You can. I can’t possibly. Too ill.” He said, gesturing at himself. 

"Dickhead. I'm glad you're feeling better."

He coughed, but he was grinning. “Had a good doctor.”

"I'll take the compliment. Let me go ring Sheila first, and then I'll catch Ely up, yeah?"

“Tell them both I’m fine, yeah?”

"I will."

“Hug?” He asked, trying his luck. 

"Yeah, come here." He leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before giving him a gentle squeeze. 

Awkwardly Fao lifted his arms to wrap them around Hars. “Thank you.”

"I'm always gonna be here for you."

“Here to kick my ass, more like.”

"Sometimes you need that, too."