Logs:Inappropriate Footwear Disease
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| RL Date: 16 March, 2015 |
| Who: Irianke, Keysi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Irianke injures her foot, Keysi takes care of her. |
| Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 4, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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>---< 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.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Irianke F 37 5'7" slender, dark curly hair, stone blue eyes 0s
Keysi F 16 5'7" athletic, brown hair, blue eyes 1m
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Dragon Infirmary Inner Caverns Offices
>-----------------------------------------< 10D 4M 37T I10, spring night >---< Late night infirmary. Usually a quiet, often someone vacant place save the one or two riders or 'folk who had had one too many. Tonight's no excpetion, save a little bit of commotion at the far end of the room. One young weyrbrat was the last of the few patients in the cots of the infirmary of the night that hadn't yet gotten to sleep. Instead, the 7ish turn boy was sitting up, arms crossed and quite thoroughly miffed about the concept of going to bed. Keysi, the young healer apprentice was sitting at his bedside with a steaming cup of herbal something-or-other meant to calm him, which was readily- and loudly- being refused. Unfortunately for the apprentice, her bedside manner still leaves something to be desired and her neutral expression never really changed as she shifted the tea out of reach of the non-splinted arm that swung to slap it out of her hands. Sighing, she stood, placing the tea on a stand near him and drew his privacy curtain to at least muffle his complaints. Privy to this show, what little that can be seen and mostly heard, Irianke is seated in the waiting area. Her leg is lifted onto another chair, and propped even further with a pillow. There's a soggy towel in one hand, that must have contained ice at one point. When Keysi emerges, a look of relief crosses the goldrider's face and those hopeful blue eyes follow the apprentice's trek. Keysi had stopped just short of the counter to wash her hands in a steaming washbowl, and then promptly drying. "I'll be right with you." Is offered in a neutral tone that fits her set expression. Shortly, her greyish eyes look to Irianke with a formal nod given and an outreached hand offered to greet the gold rider. "G'evening. I'm Keysi. What can I do for you tonight?" It certainly isn't that she's oblivious to the favored leg, but rather mechanical in her procedures. "I have never learned the lesson to wear practical shoes versus ones that match my outfit and this," Irianke gestures to her swollen, quite shoeless, ankle. The goldrider looks appropriated chagrinned and rueful. "This is the end result it would seem. What can you do for me?" The slender woman doesn't rise, sopping at her ankle with that cold cold, soggy, no more ice towel. Keysi hesitates a moment as she watches the sopping towel, before holding out her hands as an offering to take it. "I think this has served its purpose. We can get you something better." She takes a stool from nearby, and drags it over to sit on. "Did it just happen? May I?" The second question is added almost as an afterthought, seeking permission to assess how badly swollen her ankle is. "I'm sure I can come up with something to do for you. But.. I think the shoes might have to go." "It happened about fifteen minutes ago? I thought I just twisted it a little and it would go away, but some nice boys down by the stables helped me back here." The sopping towel is handed over, a forlorn, if dramatic, sigh exhaling. "Must I? But they're so pretty." Her uninjured foot nudges the pair of shoes sitting on the floor by her: a pretty, delicate affair with fine embroidery work and tiny little beads to augment its pattern. Irianke looks to them and then up through her lashes at the healer. "They were a gift from my son," is shared, possibly with the hope that it will change the healer's mind about their fate. Keysi escorts the towel away by giving it a bit of a toss, and having it land beside the counter with a less than appetizing 'glush.' "They may not have to leave the Weyr, but I think them not being on your feet is going help prolong your lifespan.. or at least the life of your tendons." That almost.. almost seemed to get a grin out of her, but it seems the ever-serious neutrality still wins over the well-studied teen. " And besides, giving what this looks like, if you intend to not be set up in your bed for awhile, we may need to fashion a boot for you to keep your ankle stable. I'm afraid it won't match too well with many outfits that I've ever seen." "I have to be mobile." It's as close to a do you know who I am? as Irianke comes to. "I don't think my job works without me meeting people and I'd rather not they come meet in my home." Home. Work. Separate things entirely, and a distinction the goldrider seems determined to continue to have. "Is it bad? It's certainly not broken is it?" There could be more questions, the brunette biting them back by gnawing on her lower lip. "Will it take long to fit a boot?" And belatedly, she seems to realize this is someone she doesn't know at all. "And before we go further," a smile tries to take any potential sting out of her inquiry, "Could I have your name and rank?" "You'll have to be a little conservative on running around the Weyr.." Keysi adds matter-of-factly, though she does sit back a bit. Respect for authority is not lost on her. "Yes, ma'am. I'm apprentice healer Keysi. I was transferred to the Weyr somewhat recently." Though she intentionally leaves out the intention of why the batch of new healers were brought over. "My journeyman mentor is just in the storerooms behind us," She motions over her shoulder lightly, "And everything I say or do will be confirmed through him. I've been studying for almost four turns myself, though." She offers for credentials, as if it may give her some baring here when ordering a weyrwoman around. "It doesn't take long to fit a boot. It's just tough weyrhide, really, but it helps reduce motion and gives the swelling times to go down- and of course, herbs for discomfort and inflammation to go with you as well." Although her eyes don't waver, she seems taken down a peg. "Maybe," Irianke suggests, the smile on her face unwavering, "We could start with some numbweed slathered over it so it stops throbbing? Don't let my smile fool you," she confides to the young woman, "I have to admit I want to cry from how the pulsing is making me feel. That or vomit. Either way, I feel nauseous. Please. Please?" The 'oh of course' lightbulb seemed to go off for her- given Irianke's smile, yes, and her questions, Keys hadn't sought pain control for her initial exam. There's a tray along the wall with poultice materials and various ointments to slather upon them. The apprentice seemed swift and apt at putting it together, at least, and the pugnent smell of fresh numbweed wafts over from the area, replacing the thoroughly ingrained mild numbweed scent that could never be washed clean from any infirmary. It's seconds, really, but may seem like minutes before she's back to place the heavily lathered poultice over her ankle. "I know it hurts, but I have to touch it to make sure it's not broken. Will you be alright?" Maybe she doesn't entirely lack bedside manner. Irianke's hands grip the sides of her chair and her smile wavers finally, teeth gritted behind the curvature of her mouth to prepare. "I've dealt with worse, I'm sure." But then, after speaking, she goes back into that fully concentrated mode where she just waits, and that foot of her quivers in anticipation of the hand that has to examine. Keysi gives the poultice a few moments to at least begin to work. Also, the smell of some sort of herbal tea has started to mix in with the heavy numbweed scent- though that may not exactly help with the gold rider's pain induced nausea. Very softly, now with gloves in place so that at least her fingers will still have sensation when finished, Keys places her hands on Irianke's leg, above the sore area to gingerly work down, following her long bones until reaching the most swollen and tender part. Well-thought motions place her palpation anatomically where the bones should be, and the exam in and of itself is completed in just about a minute.. as quick as she's willing to make it. "I don't believe it's broken." Is said quietly but still without inflection. "You can relax.. I have something else for the pain brewing, and we can give the ointment some time to fully take effect too. It seems like a sprain. A bad one, but still a sprain." "Oh." The overwhelming smell of numbweed has an instant placebo effect on the woman. Irianke breathes out slowly, and then in, and out once more in a controlled breathing exercise. "Thank you," is her simple expression of gratitude. The touching contorts her features, her jaw clenched visibly when the healer's hands, no matter how light, touch her injury, and quickly turns into a choked back cry. "Do you like being a healer?" The question comes out in fits and starts, stuttered almost, but seems to relax her, however minutely. And then it's done, and she's exhaling again, eyes open to look up at the teenager expectantly. Keysi peels the gloves off to discard them with short movements, her strict features observing the swelling and lovely color changes over the goldrider's ankle. The journeyman she had mentioned earlier appears with a cup of the fellis and alfalfa-laced steaming tea and places it on the side table near the pair, bowing appropriately before stepping out of the immediate area and taking a seat to continue reviewing the logs from the day. "That drink should help. It has plenty of pain and anti-inflammatory properties. And just the other day we got in a bit of extra lemongrass oil that you can add to your bath. It would help with joint pain while you soak. I do urge you to take the time to do so, as well. I wouldn't want your recovery to be prolonged... although I know you have a lot to do." She hesitates, "Do you think you'll be able to take it easy a bit? It's important." The question takes her a bit off her guard, "Yes." Her serious eyes get a bit of light to them at that, "I very much enjoy working with trauma, injuries... that sort of thing." Or, this sort of thing, really. "I can but try," says Irianke, her voice light, dancing in the way her feet won't now, for a while. The tea, however, is eyed with caution, though her hand does reach out to bring it closer to sniff at least. "Fellis?" is her one word question as something smells familiar, brow lifting. "Will it hinder my cognizance?" "Depends on how sensitive you are." It may be an attempt at a joke, but a poor one. "I use very little when I make the teas, so it shouldn't. It should just take the edge off for you. Since your injury isn't open.. like a gash or something, a topical medication can't do everything for you. I want to help the throbbing for you too. You don't have to take any with you if you don't want to." A hand motions lightly towards the tea, supporting the decision to at least try a little bit. "Let me go see what size boots we have. May I take one of your shoes?" Oh, yes the prize, injury-inducing footwear.. perhaps not the best determination of footsize, but the easiest option. "You may." Irianke allows her right shoe to be taken out of her presence. "Trauma you say? You were born in the wrong era, child. Not that I'd wish a Pass on anyone, but, I imagine life would be more exciting for your skillset in those days." The tea, with its explanation granted, is sipped from delicately, and then with more confidence. "I'll send my assistant down here in the morning for a pot, lighter on the fellis though please." "Perhaps so." There is a little more flare to her tone, maybe even the trace of a grin at the edge of her lips, though she vanishes into the storeroom for a moment and when Keys reappears a minute or two later, what may have been a change of expression is gone, "We still learn about threadscore, though, and how horrible it was." Does she say it with some degree of excitement in her voice? She does try to hide it somewhat. "And we see some trauma these days. Not nearly the utter degree of a Pass, of course, but knife wounds, blunt trauma, and various injuries like sprains." In her arms she has a few heavy boots that are composed of thick black-brown hide layered on hide until the setting is rigid. The boot itself goes almost to just short of mid-calf, with wide straps that close the open front of the boot instead of laces. The pretty shoe is set beside its partner. "I think this one will fit," She noted, mostly to herself, of one in particular. "but we may have to wait until you get a good night's sleep before it will fit over the swelling. " "Well, apprentice Keysi, I'm pleased, if anything, my unfortunate decision in footwear has allowed you my minor trauma case." Irianke, self-mocking of her situation in the dryness of her voice, is all pleased smiles for Keysi. That is until she notices the boots and how staid they are. "Lesson learned," is murmured, more for her own benefit it would seem. "I'll take that one and a size bigger and smaller, just in case. Lycinea will return the unused pairs in the morning." The tea isn't, hasn't, been forgotten, the goldrider continuing to drink of it. "Do you have any infirmary assistants that might be able to see me home? I'm afraid I might not be able to put much weight on it anymore." "I.. I don't mean to.." The apprentice who had otherwise been perhaps overly confident for her age actually stutters a moment, "Not your case. I don't wish for anyone to be injured, really." Though, given the smiles she received, the tension of her shoulders eases and her apology is refined, "Of course, we have plenty." She paused and then added, "Although not much could really save these from being cumbersome, whichever one suits your needs, the hide actually dyes fairly easily. Maybe a bit of color would help? I'm afraid You'll have to feature this for at least a couple of weeks, or until a recheck assessment says otherwise." Keysi attempts a friendly smile, though it looks quite awkward on her, "I'm almost finished with my shift. We can help you back to your room." The 'we' indicates the young male assist stacking towels at the back of the room. "I'm indebted to you, Keysi." Surely, Irianke is being generous or even that minute fellis is going to her head. "For humoring my frivolous need to look pretty, and my shoes. My darling shoes." Only spilling a little tea, the goldrider leans down to scoop up her precious shoes. "I won't bother dying them then. It's not worth the effort for the amount in them, thankfully. Should I return in a sevenday then, to make sure everything is healing properly?" The boy wandered over to Irianke's side as if he knew he was going to be summoned in at minute, or maybe his curiosity finally got the better of him and he wanted to see what the weyrwoman was doing here. Keysi picked up the three boots to take with them and ushered the assistant over with a waving motion of her free hand. "You have enough on your plate." The overly serious young woman offered as a response to her notion of frivolous, "You need the little things that make you happy. But you need to stay safe too. Let's get you to bed." Both she and the boy offered their arms to help her to stand. "A week would be perfect to take another look." For her initial reticence, Irianke downs the rest of the tea and rubs at her face one time. Her hair is patted down, as mussed as it still is from her fall, errant straw strands entangled in them. She's not light, but also not heavy, her weight falling decidedly average for how fit dragonriders are. "At least it's not snowing anymore," she jokes, and leads the way towards her weyr, whereupon she requests to be set down on one of her chaise lounges, rather than her bed. The two are dismissed with a gracious thank you and the promise of a return if anything should feel off. |
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