Fanfic:A Day in the Infirmary
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The life of a healer, even of a Channeling one, is a multi-layered one.
As the One Power can do a great many things, it might be easy for someone to think that the only skill needed to know is how to use the One Power and the Healing weave. Even from early on, however, Gareth knew that this was not the case. There could be a variety of times when the Power was not at immediate or best disposal for a given situation, so such things as triage, first aid and herbcraft were all necessary to be known.
One such situation was the incoming patients to the Infirmary. They were processed, in a way, by those who were assigned to the door. This was generally a middle Learning Rank who had permission to Delve without the attendance of a fully Raised Healer.
Healing was a very closely watched thing along the path to becoming a full member of the Yellow. While some Dedicated and Accepted proved themselves skilled enough to not need supervision, there was still a path to get there and those that were not yet there were often posted at the door.
Although by all accounts (though not wholly known to him), Gareth was counted among the very promising of aspirants, but he had not yet had enough hands-on experience to be allowed to work Healing weaves unattended. Besides, he did not mind the posting to attend incoming patients as much as it seemed some of his peers did. He knew his person frightened some, at first, but it seemed once they spoke, he had a calming effect. He liked that this helped people coming in.
It was also the responsibility of the person over-seeing incoming patients to take care of any temporary arrangements pre-Healing, or to take care of the care that did not require the One Power, as he was cleared to do those tasks without a chaperone.
Gareth's duty for today, as an aspiring Yellow, was to be in the Infirmary for the whole of it.
"Could I get a little help here?" It was a man's voice from the door and Gareth turned around to see a young man walking in. One shoulder was bunched nearly up to his ear while the other one hung limply at his side. The skin around his eyes was tightened with pain as he walked in, moving carefully to not jostle his arm too greatly.
There was no blood dripping from anywhere, so Gareth guessed - as he walked over - that it was either a break or a dislocation. "Of course," Gareth rumbled softly. The man waved off any physical assistance to make it to the bed nearest the door, which was empty. "What happened?"
With a sour face, the man shook his head. "I fell off a horse," he said, a little sheepishly - the sort of bitter sheepishness that occurs when embarrassment and physical pain are mixed. "My hand got tangled in the reins. It was a stupid mistake, but the damn mare spooked so she ran and dragged me for a few feet before my head came loose."
Gareth nodded in understanding, seizing Saidin and weaving the very familiar net of Spirit that would Delve the young man. As suspected, it was a dislocated shoulder with some minor tendon damage around it. "She pulled your shoulder out of its socket," Gareth explained. "I'm going to put it back in, but you'll need to wait on a Yellow to repair some damage. Give me a moment and I'll get you something for the pain."
Moments later, Gareth returned with a cup of tea - such tea (made with Lionheart) was kept brewed, ready, at all times because people generally didn't come here unless in pain. He gave the tea to the young man, who took it in the hand of the good arm.
"What's your name?" he asked, waiting for the other to take a sip and let it settle in before resetting the shoulder.
"Yarel," the man replied. He lowered the cup to his leg and let his head rest back against the wall. A sigh in a few moments said that the tea was at work. Gareth set the cup aside and then took the man's arm and shoulder. (Thea Sedai had taught him how to do this and he'd learned the feel for the shoulder: how it was supposed to feel normally and how it felt dislocated, as well as how to put it back.) He gave a nod of warning before doing so, and then did so.
Yarel still winced, but the Lionheart tea had eased the pain enough that it wasn't as bad as it could have been and Gareth gave it back to him while fetching a piece of fabric, set aside for use as a sling to keep the arm steady while awaiting the Yellow. "Take care to move as little as possible and a Yellow will be by to see you shortly," he said.
The injured man was busy with drinking his tea but gave a nod as Gareth moved to give a Yellow a quick word about the new patient.
As the day proceeded, Gareth mentally recorded it as the usual sort in terms of the numbers - a slow but steady in and out flow of people - but at least not one with a high level of drastic injury. A good many of them were minor, or at least easily treated.
During the quiet periods, the Dedicated would keep himself busy by working at the herbcraft table that was kept near the Infirmary's entrance.
"Uhm, excuse me, sir?" a small voice - a girl's voice - said from the doorway, just as he happened to be looking up. He had to look down again to see her and saw that there were two of them. They couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve, he guessed, and both were in Novice whites. The taller girl, a blonde, was holding her arm around the smaller, and the smaller was holding up a bloody hand.
Gareth moved quickly. "Come on," he said gently and guided them over to the bed that Yarel had vacated not too long ago. "I'm Gareth," he introduced as he helped her sit on the edge. The blonde went with her - a comfort factor, for the smaller one did look the younger. The very large man had to kneel to look at her and took her hand for examination. "Can you tell me what happened?"
The eyes of the smaller one - blue eyes that seemed huge at the moment - were flooding over with tears and her lower lip trembled. She couldn't speak for the two factors and looked at the other one, who was apparently the voice of the pair.
"We were washing dishes in the kitchen, we got in trouble this morning," she said, blushing. "She was washing a knife and it slipped. The Kitchen Mistress sent me to bring her here."
Looking at the wound, it was in a tender part of the hand and one that bled profusely but the wound itself didn't look too deep. He sent his weave of Spirit through her to ascertain that it was a shallow enough cut to have missed the trouble spots - no nerves or tendons were cut - but it was a bleeder. He gave the girls a comforting smile. "We'll get you taken care of," he rumbled quietly.
He lifted her hand again. "Hold this up so it bleeds less," he explained, rising to his feet. Two pairs of large eyes followed him. "I'll be right back," he told them and then returned after just a few moments with necessary items. One of which was a bandage. "All right," he said, taking the tiny hand in his again and bringing it down a little. "I'm going to wrap it up so that it stops bleeding and a Yellow will be over very soon to Heal it."
Both nodded as he set the edge of the bandage and wrapped it around the hand, snugly though not enough to stop circulation. He then had her raise it again, holding it close to her shoulder.
A few more bandages, some slings and some splints were all the orders of the day as time passed, patients organized and set to wait for proper Healing, or those that Gareth was able to help without it going to that point. Herbs were also the calls of the day.
It was almost time for him to leave - a late dinner followed by studying - when an Accepted rushed into the Infirmary carrying a small child.
"Help!" she cried out. She looked wild as she clutched the child. "I was supposed to be watching Milya Sedai's baby, and I was, I swear, but something... something's wrong, and the Infirmary was closer to where we were than she was, so I came here, help me, he's turning blue!" All of the words were spilt, tumbling one over the other in a single breath as she thrust the infant - probably between one and two - at him.
It was obvious to Gareth from her words and one look at the child what was wrong.
As to not spare a moment, the large Dedicated lowered himself to one knee with the child on the upright knee to keep him steady. With one arm to hold the child, Gareth used his other hand to open the child's mouth and peer inside. (The Accepted, meanwhile, stood on the verge of panic just a foot away.) It was faint in the darkness, but a pale light reflected off the obstruction that was stuck at the back of the child's mouth.
Gareth's fingers were long, at least in comparison, and he reached in and pulled out what was discovered to be a hunk of bread too large to be eaten by this child's sparse teeth.
The boy started retching as soon as his airway was cleared - both from the choking and the nearness of Gareth's fingers to his gag reflex - but there wasn't much in his stomach. One large hand on the boy's rotund stomach kept him in place but allowed him to lean forward so that anything coming out landed on the floor. The boy then continued to cough as Gareth Delved, just to make sure that was all.
Thankfully, it was all there was.
Once the coughing had stopped, and the dry heaving, the little boy started crying. Gareth turned him to lean against his shoulder while he looked up at the Accepted. The girl should have known better than to let him have a piece of bread that size, but it wasn't his place. He gave her a level look. "Fetch his mother," he said simply as the boy wailed and clung to him.
By the time a woman, followed by the Accepted, came hurrying in, the little one had quieted down, but had yet to release Gareth's shirt. The woman had the Ageless look and was wearing a grey dress.
"Julien," the woman breathed, crossing the distance in short order and held out her arms, Gareth dutifully transferring the boy, who clung with great fervor to his mother. After several moments, the Aes Sedai dismissed the Accepted and Gareth told her what happened, suggesting she find a new care taker for the lad.
"Thank you, Dedicated," Milya Sedai said with a small smile.
Gareth smiled a little back, inclining his head. "He should be fine now, Aes Sedai, and better for having his mother," he said. For a moment, he wondered what it would have been like to grow up with a mother, but he knew his parents for lost - presumably dead - and Einion with no wife. The thought was pushed away soon after though as he watched the Aes Sedai walk off.
He watched, nodding to himself for the day's work and feeling that place in his chest settle in, reminding him that this was where he wanted to be.
