Logs:Healer Inquest: Miska
| |
|---|
| RL Date: 2 January, 2015 |
| Who: Miska, Tanwen, Kharma, Setephon, Caiketo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Healer Hall |
| Type: Log |
| What: Miska is question in the wake of Teris' death. |
| Where: Healer Hall |
| When: Day 15, Month 9, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Madilla/Mentions, Teris/Mentions |
 |
| Time has flown by in the days following the death of Teris and prompt removal of Miska from High Reaches Weyr, and it's an early day in autumn that sees the deliberations over the incident starting up. They've chosen a wide, spacious room in the Hall, with little ornamentation and sparse light; all the better for interrogation. Each of the inquest members sits behind a heavy table fashioned with intricately carved knots and figureheads, all representative of the Healercraft, and in the center of the room, facing the board of veteran healers, is Miska. Of little note, one healer stenographer sits off to the side, taking record of every word. It was quite an ordeal to get Caiketo settled from his usual suite of rooms into the room, but the elderly Healer is now happily weezing away at his end of the table, muttering about the water that they've had set before them but without a drudge present (or his singular apprentice) to get the old man whatever he is complaining about, well--. Eventually, he settles down, however, and falls into a silence only occasionally punctuated by a cough to listen. The niceties of greetings and casual chit-chat are over now. Tanwen is seated with the rest, though markedly younger than some, if not all. Her eyes slide toward Caiketo and his wheezing from time to time out of healerly (daughter-in-lawly?) habit, but now virtually all eyes are on Miska. She takes a breath. They'd worked out out before hand, where to start in the line of healers. "Journeyman Miska," she addresses him not unkindly with the rank he has earned and currently retains. "We've all read the reports," from both sides, "But I find that words put to paper aren't always the whole story. Would you please tell us the events in your own words?" It's an afterthought that has her adding, "Be as detailed as you like." It could almost be one of his oral exams from his younger turns. Almost. The unspoken implication in her words is that he knows what's at stake; if he wants to figuratively stab himself in the hand by not providing much, that's his business. With all the pressure and his future hanging in the balance, it would be safe to assume that Miska is a jumble of nerves, a mass of quivering anxiety, but yet, here the young healer sits, staring down a board of highly experienced superiors, without the slightest twinge of emotion. He is all that is stoic and calm, his long legs crossed, one over the other; he doesn't slouch, but sits straight with his hands on the arms of his chair. "Thank you," he murmurs politely, before taking a deep breath and beginning his tale: "High Reaches' Weyrhealer, Madilla, had been called to duty elsewhere, and put me in temporary charge of the infirmary until she returned. It was in the evening, when it happened, and a couple riders came in carrying Teris. High Reaches' Weyrwoman was among them." He pauses, briefly. "We put her in one of the private rooms and attempted to make her comfortable, but she asked for fellis right off. I had previous knowledge of her addiction, from a colleague at Telgar, and I felt it in her best interests to stay the mercy draught until she was in her right mind. Her sober mind. To make the decision of her own, rather than be brought to the decision through an unnatural state. Telgar wanted her back, to do with as they pleased, and I denied that request. In the end, she found a means out, without my interference." It's all so neutral and emotionless. "Who is this colleague at Telgar? Will they write a letter to corroborate that you were previously aware of her addiction?" speaks the elderly Healer, looking expectantly towards the younger man with clear, smokey eyes that betray his age. "Terrible thing, fellis addiction. Wouldn't be the first case any of us have ever experienced. And amongst dragonriders and the dangers of Thread, can't expect them to always want to be of their own mind--." His rambling comes to an end as he drifts off into a memory perhaps, or something else, reaching to pick up his glass of water despite his complaints. Miska's eyes pull to Caiketo. "Journeyman Osrhan is the healer in question, and he would. It was not a well-known topic at Telgar. They did not want the world to know that their goldrider was dependent on a common agent." He shrugs indolently. "We talked about it on the off occasion when it came up, about alternative methods to ending the addiction, without a miserable withdrawal period. We concluded that it could not be avoided. Teris never, to my knowledge, sought an end to her addiction willfully." Tanwen's attention is quiet, and where some others might wear frowns or impassive expressions as is the trademark of most inquests, the woman's expression remains open. It's hard to parse the emotions there because they're obviously conflicted of some variety, but they're not hidden away from prying eyes. "Would you please tell us," a glance shot sidelong to the very old healer, probably because she's using the word 'please' and he seems to have forgotten it from his repertoire, "Why you took it upon yourself to see to the cleansing of a Telgari weyrwoman when your purview was 'Reaches? And why, when she was requested to be released back to her Weyr you denied that request?" Miska's attention shifts to Tanwen, his expression continuing with its passivity. "The most important part of my reasoning was her instability. She was out of it from the fellis, and as she began to detox, increasingly hostile. I was not convinced that a transport, with other riders, would have been in her best interests. It is my understanding that dragons remind the dragonless of what they no longer have, and being as that is what they proposed. Secondly, they may have well dropped her off between rather than seek appropriate treatment at Telgar. I have learned," with some dryness, "that these riders will stop at nothing to see their own ends met." "Ach, now. None of that. We're all Healers here, are we not? In my day, if someone was lying on my table dying of some bumps or pox, I wouldn't be going around ignoring a gash on their leg or, or a fellis addiction," replies Caiketo dismissively to his daughter-in-law, even lifting one of those shaky hands to point at-- Miska. "You. I assume you had a treatment plan all written down, then? You had a date that you expected her to be free of the effects of the fellis, then? A date you would have offered her the option?" A pause, and then he agrees with Miska, "Bad form, that. Those dragonriders wouldn't want us stepping into their roles, yet providing her with the means and probably our own medicines. Going behind the backs of Healers and administering--." He trails off again, mumbling to himself. The journeyman's gaze travels back to the eldest on the board. He listens with intent before speaking with self-assuredness. "I had a schedule mapped out, depending on her progress, of when she should be fellis free and when to offer her options. She seemed particularly stubborn to detox methods. I can only guess that she had more fellis in her system than we thought," Miska says, adroitly. About dragonriders and their lack of understanding per ethics: he remains conspicuously silent. Tanwen is calm and composed in the moments that she is listening and before she asks her next question, ignoring the chiding from her father-in-law. "How do you answer the charge that your requirement that she detox before being given the choice qualifies as cruel and unusual treatment?" Surely, the charge has been levied at him before, and she does not now accuse him, just asks the question. "I did what I thought was right for my patient at the time. I tried to make her as comfortable as possible, and see to her needs as I would any other patient in my care. She had her own private quarters, food and stimulation when she needed it, and just short of hurting herself and others, any other services we could provide." Miska finally shows some reaction, in the tightening of his fingers around the arms of the chair. "I did what was right and ethical, not what was expected and demanded." "Any other patient in your care, certainly, certainly," mumbles Caiketo, nodding once then twice as he considers the young Healer in front of him. "Did you speak to any mindhealers during the time? Did you have them consult with your patient during the process of your care?" A frown finally appears. "We did not have the time, or the option. She was extremely hostile when she started to detox, and we had to remove anything that could potentially be a weapon. I did not want to risk anyone getting hurt, until-" Miska stops, looks directly at Caiketo. "Until she was completely finished with the withdrawal period and could be reasoned with." Tanwen's intake of breath might be called a gasp, but it's quiet and she's reaching for her water, so maybe her throat is just that dry. She doesn't look entirely calm when she turns her head to address the other healers, "I think it's about time for a brief break." So that the water cups may be refilled and a snack provided. Inquesting is hungry work. Tanwen, however, will excuse herself, she must mean to make it brief, but even the best intentions sometimes do not bear fruit. Setephon has been quietly listening in, and has made all of two jots on the notepage before him throughout the interview. His hands have spent most of their time folded in front of his face, a resting place for his chin, his nose. Some arrangement has surely been made that he can lead with further questions after the break. "Welcome back," is courteous, a moment to allow the journeyman to situate himself. From there, calm and deliberate words: "You spoke a great deal about Teris' state of mind, attributing her hostility and instability largely to her fellis addiction, to the detox." A breath, and he sits back. "What elements of her state of mind did you think to attribute to the loss of her dragon?" The limited break is, at least, enough to help the journeyman reclaim his earlier calm, his lack of expression in the face of inquisition. Miska's pale head dips in a nod of acknowledgement, and perhaps in appreciation for their time. "I cannot say what her state of mind was, following the death of her dragon, because she was not clear of mind. Had she been, it would have been evident, but she was not. I had a hard time picking the addict from the woman, as it was. What was grief? What was addiction? I just cannot say, for sure. I do think," with minute hesitation, "had her thoughts been only for her dragon, she might not have asked for fellis first thing. Would not the mercy draught ease all of her pain?" "That seems to me," muses Setephon, his tone moving toward the didactic, encouraged along by one eyebrow that raises, "a rather rational, reasoning course of action to expect from a patient you found to be quite irrational. So you did not consider the effects such a long-term habit might have had on her attempts to communicate her state of mind, her state of being, to you, her caregiver?" Kharma is there, perhaps not dressed as cleanly and professional as some of her colleagues, long dress and an abundance of scarves wrapped around chronically chilled bones. Still, she gives off an aura of stony strength in her silence, long finger idly stroking the stone of a gaudy ring. Raspy and deep, "Obviously you were concerned about your patient and did what you felt was right, given the circumstances." There isn't so much as a hint of accusation, not from the near-monotone delivery, "But, did you at all consider what political trouble you could have caused, refusing to return Teris to her Weyr?" A slim finger is raised, asking for patience as she gets to her point, "We are Healers first, but it does the Hall no good to cause incident for the Weyrs in which we are posted." "I did the best that I was able. I could have thought about the many, many factors causing stress to her mental health, but I chose the course I thought best." Miska meets Setephon's gaze head on, but Kharma's words pull him in that direction. "With all due respect, I have never picked up on the nuances of politics, and while I certainly always consider the Hall's interests, in this situation I did what I thought was best for my patient. I strive to provide the same high quality of care for everyone I come across, and this was the same. It was not the popular decision, and perhaps," his lips quirk ruefully, "not the most thought out, in hindsight, but I stand by my actions." Not the most thought out: the obviousness of such a statement elicits a stifled choke from a person outside. But the questioning seems to be over. And when people depart the room, there's no one sitting out there. No one at all. |
Leave A Comment