Logs:Generally Healthy
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| RL Date: 7 November, 2008 |
| Who: Madilla, Leova |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Conducting healer interviews with strangers is one things; conducting them with people you know and like is quite another. Madilla is, thus, perhaps a little less than thorough with Leova, when it is the greenrider's turn. |
| Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 2, Turn 18 (Interval 10) |
| Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr Two sets of double doors, one from the the inner caverns and a recently built set from the dragon infirmary, lead into the unnaturally hushed human infirmary. Despite fastidious cleaning, the scent of redwort and numbweed has long since soaked into every smooth-carved surface, along with other, subtler medicinal smells. Pristinely made cots are lined up against the walls; most of them are left open to view, but some in the back are surrounded by curtains for delicate procedures or critical patients. About halfway between the two entrances is the counter for the healers on duty; it guards the entrance to the storage rooms just beyond, their shelves and cabinets lined with meticulously labeled bottles, boxes, jars, and even vats of supplies. The Weyrhealer's office is also here, along with another side room for mixing up medicines and the like. Although one of the doors to the dragon infirmary had opened briefly, at least a nose's worth of Leova having peeked in, that was an hour ago. After her full day's barracks shift. After dinner. After, lucky for the healers, a good washing-up that has the greenrider's hair still dark with damp. And now her freshly changed self is entering from the inner caverns, all matter of fact just-another-duty of-course-I-wouldn't-duck-the-healers let's-get-it-over-with casual. It's Madilla's night for the after-dinner shift, and she's standing behind the desk in her usual position, pouring over another set of lessons, though her head regularly lifts to survey the (currently, very quiet) infirmary around her. "Leova," she greets, one of these regular head-lifts made just in time to note the greenrider's arrival - or was it the sound of the doors as she came in? - a smile on her face. "Hi." And Leova lifts her chin in a nod, smiling back, much the same as when the apprentice ordinarily sees her through various wing and weyrling mishaps or just dropping by to say hello after a shift in the dragon infirmary. "Reporting in," the greenrider adds with a slight roll of her eyes that's shared with the younger woman: just the drill. Right? "Good for you for showing up," says Madilla, amused by the rolling of eyes, and coming around from the desk to wave the greenrider after her. "The amount of people who haven't is getting - well," she frowns, finally concluding, "pathetic. We're just healers. You know? How are you, anyway? And the weyrlings?" Healers who look at them! Who poke and pry! Who have cold metal implements of prying! But. "Had to sooner or later," is what Leova says, exaggerating her resignation to try and make it funny. "And better you than that one that's studying up to be a mindhealer, hm? The weyrlings, they're managing. Ups and downs, it's always something. And I'm... all right. No cold recently," and she touches her old scarred belt buckle, knocking wood. Madilla leads the way to a more secluded part of the infirmary, where there's a cot and a couple of chairs, one of which she takes for herself - her waved hand suggests Leova can take the other, if she likes. "Exactly. Might as well get it over and done with." Her smile is amused - the humor worked - though her head shakes, just lightly. "Carobet. Mm, wouldn't want her as my healer, either. Anyway. Good. On both counts. You're prone to colds a bit, aren't you?" She has a stylus, and a folder, ready to take notes. There's a nod for that headshake, and after eyeing their surroundings, Leova does pull up a chair. Sits in it, too, leaning forward, arms resting on her knees instead of crossing them. Demurs, "Don't know about /prone/. That one time was just extra hard. Thought I was all better, and then thud." Fist into palm. And then she's giving Madilla a considering look in lieu of actually saying more. Madilla's lips purse slightly, but she nods, making a notation into her file. The considering look is met with one of her own: her expression is open, friendly, but she's in business mode, too. "Aside from colds, we've only really seen you for bits and pieces," she continues. "The ointment, that time. Things like that. You're generally healthy, then? Any known weaknesses?" "Known weaknesses." Leova's own mouth certainly gets a bit of a quirk to it. "Healer-type weaknesses, you mean. As opposed to the other kind." Such as repeating things. Or questions guised as statements. And then, "Try to stay healthy. Get enough sleep. When I can, anyway. Things like that." No break. "Been doing a lot of these? The questions. Got it together even more than you used to, I'd bet." "Right," agrees Madilla, but if she intended to say more, she doesn't, instead pausing to make notes on her chart again. "You aren't always able to get enough sleep? How much do you tend to go?" She hesitates before answering the greenrider's questions, a break in her professional tone coming when she does speak. "Lots. We have... mountains of them, now. It's mostly not too bad." "Glad to hear it's not too bad," Leova says genuinely. "Must wear your wrist off, all that writing." And whatever more /she/ might have said... this time she doesn't push it. Writing. Chart. On topic. "Don't reckon I know exactly, how much sleep. Some nights need more'n others. Better when there aren't interruptions in the middle, hm? Dragonets poking each other, accident and not-so-accident, kids getting up for the latrines only they get turned around and walk into something, you name it." "You get used to it," admits Madilla, glancing down at her wrist, which she flexibles, experimentally. "Have to." Her head bobs again for the answer on sleep, though her eyes quickly grow round at talk of the weyrlings. She seems genuinely surprised, and intrigued, her hand dropping towards her lap. "Really? Like looking after a bunch of little kids, then." Pause. Back on track, must stay there. "No pregnancies, or concerns relating to such matters?" Although her voice remains steady as she says this, she's looking at her page again, and her cheeks are slightly flushed. "Pretty well," Leova admits. "Lucky, one of them was a nanny before she Impressed, the way Niena was. Ever run into Eila? Only these are all linked together and sometimes they haven't known who is who and..." Topic, topic, who's got the topic. She gives Madilla a rueful smile: maybe another time? though there's a flicker of her eyes for those other concerns. Still, they're easily dismissed: "Easy enough to avoid it around here. That awful tea, a long trip /between/..." Madilla is all ears, listening with interest, and even opens her mouth to make some comment - but there's the rueful smile, and her own nod. Oh, yes. Work to do. Her flush deepens, though whether it is for the /need/ for the tea, or just the tea as a concept - impossible to know. "Ah, of course," she says. "The tea. And Between. So you've had no problems, then, with that." Her voice does sound slightly strained; she stares at her paper, focusing. "And that's not caused you any health problems. No problematic symptoms?" Breathe. "Don't taste good," Leova says frankly, studying the apprentice. "And it's not much fun. Staying extra-long. But." Her shoulder lifts, falls: has to be done. "And no. No problems to speak of. Haven't turned purple or nothing," and she pulls up a hint of that smile again. "So I've heard," agrees Madilla, composing herself enough to give Leova a thin smile. "But, no, I suppose babies are not necessarily a good outcome, for a rider." She manages a twitch to the corner of her smile, at the purple comment, nodding, making another note. "You had only a limited physical, when you arrived at the weyr, from our records. Is there anything we should have a note of? Childhood illnesses, injuries? No hearing problems? Your eyesight seems fine?" Leova just nods, a simple gesture but one that doesn't brook argument. She's leaning forward a little further, too. Focused. For Madilla's next questions, though, she makes her next shrug casual and more or less succeeds: "Nothing to speak of," she near-repeats. "Didn't keep track of skinned knees any." And now her hands are braced on her knees, ready to get up: can it be that easy? No. Not quite. Madilla looks apologetic for it, too, apparently having picked up the gesture for what it means. "Do you check for lumps?" she wants to know, vaguely gesturing towards her own, barely present curves. "Or anywhere, really. Nothing you've ever considered having checked out, but just haven't? No headaches? Trouble breathing?" She sinks back with a slow, managed exhalation. Gives Madilla a look: /lumps/. Still, Leova can keep her tone even enough, again with a touch of the rueful: "Everything's where it's supposed to be, pretty sure. And sure I have headaches. Going to bring my weyrlingmaster in? Bet it's been a while for him. And no trouble breathing, not less something happens, get slammed in the stomach during practice or something." Madilla has the grace to look a little embarrassed, and give a little shrug. Well, yes. Lumps. "Just have to know. Sometimes... well, we do try taking them out, sometimes, but... it's not very pleasant. And easier, if you get them early." She ducks her head back to her paper, then back up again almost an instant later. "Actually, he's on our list. The Weyrlingmaster. Can you mention to him, he needs to come in?" She looks hopeful, if not a little bit reticent, nervous. "So. Basically. You're pretty healthy. Aside from... colds. Sometimes." Leova's eyes narrow, not precisely /at/ Madilla, more like past her. "Out." Not very pleasant indeed. She certainly doesn't ask about them. It's with far more cheer that the greenrider says, "Can do," and if Persie and C'mryn need them too, why, /he/ can tell /them/. For her general health, "Right." And then she's leaning forward again. A nod. Hesitant, but there it is. /Out/. "Excellent. Um," she glances back down at her pages, then shrugs. "I think that's all. Except that... if anything does come up? Come see us. Me. Someone. But try and stay healthy, because that's less work for us, anyway." "Wouldn't want to put you out," Leova agrees, even as her smile reappears for Madilla's quip, widening even as she stands. "I'll let them know. Easy enough." Certainly she has, however constrained, the air of Fall safely dodged. "Okay, good," says Madilla, with another of those smiles. "Thanks for coming in, I guess. And - have a good evening, Leova." "You too, Madilla. Wind up with any questions about the weyrlings, just let me know." Leova even slides her chair the few inches back to where it had started, adding, "Or lunch, hm?" before abandoning the place altogether. "Lunch," says Madilla, smiling, as she rises to her feet, folding together her pile of notes, "Would be nice. We should do that, sometime. I'd like to hear all about them. Soon. Anyway." |
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