Logs:A Few More Weeks
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| RL Date: 23 March, 2009 |
| Who: Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Healer Hall |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: The news of Satiet's death - of course - hits Madilla hard. |
| Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 4, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Satiet/Mentions |
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| Somehow, Madilla slept through that which most of the weyr woke up to; somehow, after all these months of fretting, she slept the sleep of the dead, waking far later than she should have, late, already, for the morning's work. The stillness of the dorms, populated primarily by those still sleeping after a nightshift, chilled her; it wasn't that she believed something was wrong, it was just... She never woke at this time. She dressed in a flurry of motions, barely skimming a brush through her curls, washing only with a splashing of water upon her face. Breakfast she abstained from entirely, for, after all, there was always food in the Infirmary if she needed it. And she was late. Late. She was never late. She never slept in. She ran through the corridors, barely glancing at those people about, somehow missing entirely the concerned expressions, the tears, every other reaction under the sun. She turned the corner into the Infirmary, nearly stumbling, and stopped short - and, in an instant, she knew. The healers stood there - a group of them, not all, but enough of them, talking in low voices, their expressions... In that same instant, as comprehension dawned, Delifa turned, and saw her apprentice, stock still and white faced, a tear already beginning to slide down her cheek. Delifa wasted no time: she placed her hand upon Madilla's shoulder, and she walked her - no, /marched/ her - past the others, all the way into her office. They sat upon the couch together, the woman and the girl, the two healers, and Delifa rocked Madilla back and forth, as she cried, and cried, and cried. Later, they sat in silence, tears drying to stains upon the cheeks of the one, the other stony-faced, dry-eyed. Later still, Delifa spoke. "She chose her time, Madilla. It's better this way." "She could have lasted. Longer. She could have spent more time with--" "In pain. Weak, steadily weaker, and in constant pain, until we dosed her so high she wasn't herself anyway. That's how it would have been, Madilla. This is better." "But..." "/Madilla/. Patients die. Sometimes, it's better if they choose their own time. What would another few weeks have given her?" Madilla shook her head. She had no answer to that, no rejoiner that would prove her point. All she could think about was that pair of motherless girls, a Weyrleader in mourning for his lost love, a weyr of people in shock... and a woman, whose life had ended too soon. "You can't carry all of them in your heart, Madilla. We're healers: we do what we can, and then we move on. Sometimes... you care too much." "How am I supposed to just stop caring?" The words came out more sharply than Madilla had intended, and she drew back, unhappily. "Take a step back. It'll get easier. I promise." Later, though not so very much later, Madilla rose, and washed her face. She ate the bread and cheese Delifa had fetched for her, and then she put on her apron, and took her place behind the counter. "And what seems to be the problem today, Laundress Belana?" |
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