fandom_clinic | FTEC -- Sunday, May 18 -- Evening.

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There were probably a great number of residents of Fandom who were pleased that the 'pony thing' was over, and Cable-- with a baby who had ceased to be a foal, thank Askani-- was one of them.

It had reminded him of something else, though. He arrived at the desk with the baby firmly perched on his arm. "Evening."

It was probably a more tactful way of greeting than just demanding she give the baby her shots, after all.

Adah glanced up from her article on some of the more recent viral laboratory diagnostic techniques (although, really, comparatively, it was all recent and steps above where she'll be starting at Emory), blinked at the man a moment and then blinked at the baby on his arm with a slight hardening in her eyes, as if the mere existence of anything that young and still bound to diapers was an affront to her very existence. In a way, it was. She'd been here long enough that spotting a baby often meant many other babies to follow.

After seemingly assessing the tot for potential future headaches, she returned a nod of greeting to the rather tall man and asked, "How can I help you?"

"She's two months," Cable replied, carefully-- mostly just for the sake of the baby, who he lifted only slightly to underscore the point. He didn't want her to start crying again, after all, "She needs her immunization shots." There. No extraneous information; it worked.

Adah blinked. "Ah," she said, and gave a slight nod of her head. Simple enough. Certainly no claims that the child had gotten into something that left her tiny, pudgy body crawling with harmful bacteria or had broken an arm or had a good chunk of her left side bitten off by a rabid demon. "Definitely something we can do. Just..." she reached for a clipboard and handed it over, "fill this out, please. Basic information; I make anyone who comes in on my shift do it. I take it you're interested in the usual approved vaccinations for her age? I believe that's, uh..." Adah shifted a few papers to pull out a list of vaccinations that she probably never received, thanks to all the improvements in medicine in the past, oh, half a century. "Diphtheria, Tetanus, Pertussis, Inactivated Polio Vaccine, Haemophilus influenzae, annnnd Pneumococcal conjugate vaccine? She's still probably a bit young for the meningitis one; you might want to come back in a month to get that one."

Cable shifted the baby's position a little so he could write on the clipboard, and beyond a moment's consideration over the field that read 'name' (he settled on 'Nathan Dayspring Summers', in the end) he was quick about it, keeping the information vague-but-relevant.

"That should be enough," he said, mildly, "For the time being, at least." At some point in the future, he would have to look into vaccinations for diseases that were a little more... alien.

Right now, though-- it would work was the right expression. "We'll save the meningitis for later." Sort of in that joke area.

Oh, good. Although here Adah was thinking that poking all those different needles into the baby today wasn't going to quite be enough, but, then again, maybe that was why she was stuck here this summer instead of poking babies with needles on a more professional level. She carefully used the desk to help push herself up, giving a glance over the information before limping toward an exam room (http://community.livejournal.com/fandom_clinic/483326.html?thread=10090750#t10090750). "This way, please."

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Adah invited, with the professional politeness that these things warranted, the two to get settled in the exam room while the nurses got together the proper vaccines and helped Adah into her gloves, although she had to admit, she was getting much better at getting them on herself. "So, tell me, Mister Summers," she said conversationally as she prepped a workstation, "she isn't a loud child, by chance, usually, is she?"

"Not generally."

He was a little... careful. About the child. "Nothing past the general allotment of crying." Not so much a joke, that one.

"Hopefully that works in our favor, then," Adah commented. She had considered, briefly, for a moment, trying to coddle the child up a little bit before plunging a needle into her rubbery, still unformed arms, but that was never Adah's style. She was never looked to to take care of Ruth May because she was looked at as incapable. It was Leah that got any inkling of a maternal instinct out of any of them, Orleanna included, it seemed. She carefully, lightly, swathed the girl's arm with the cold, damp astringent to clean the area, then picked up her syringe, traced the lightly colored vein to the appropriate spot and stuck in the first injection. Thumb pushing down the hammer, spewing little tiny micro-organisms into the baby's bloodstream, stealth viruses ready to settle in comfortable, dormant, until the intrusion of those similar to their kind.

No pomp or circumstance; it wasn't Adah's style. One down, a few more to go, and she was already setting that syringe down and swathing the spot again.

The baby had seen bullets, and explosions, and clung tight to bleeding arms; still, she made some noise, and she would've squirmed if the shot had been any slower than it was.

Cable just watched, carefully, with eagle eyes. She was the hope of an entire timeline, after all (the only timeline that mattered, in the end) and giving her out of hand just for this was already managing to work up some extra paranoia.

"A month, you said," he voiced, in need of something to say to keep control of it all.

It was good that there was at least some effect, although Adah had to admit being a little surprised at just how quietly the girl took the shots, as she smoothly injected the next. Usually, an abundance of quiet was a sign of other problems; Adah imagined that she was probably such a quiet child that she wondered if Nathan and Orleanna ever thought she'd actually finally bit it like the doctors predicted.

"That's right," Adah answered as she worked. "A month. Three months is the current optimal time to receive that particular vaccine."

"Hm."

Not that he hadn't known; but now it was something to list in his mental schedule, alongside all the other bullet points and emergency escape plans. Cable leaned back, affecting quiet presence in the exam while the baby's noise gradually picked up a little under the onslaught.

He vaguely wished she'd been that accommodating when they'd been trying to avoid predators in the woods.

Adah's nose wrinkled a little at the increasing of sound, shaking her head as she muttered to the baby, "Not even halfway there, sugar, but this is better than what you could go through if we didn't do this..."

"There's another," she spoke louder this time, clearly directing her words at Mister Summers as she gave the next shot, "at four months, as well."

"I'm aware of it," he replied, mildly, "It's going on the schedule."

Jan wriggled, her unused arm grasping out for something to touch.

Adah noticed the little opening and closing of the girl's hand as she gave the final shot and then sighed, setting the syringe back on her worktable. "I assume she's probably too young to have a favorite color," she observed, already picking out a small, red Band-Aid with some cartoon character on it that Adah didn't recognize and unwrapped it rather deftly with one hand to smooth over the tiny little hole where the injections went in. All the pink ones with ponies had been very quickly gotten rid of.

"The red seems to suit her fine." Or so Wade could attest to. Cable didn't shift much, keeping his poise steady even as he'd rather see this done with and now. Bandaids be damned.

"Well, Mister Summers," Adah told him, "looks like your daughter is completely set against a handful of harmful viral antibodies that would make her extremely comfortable or possibly dead in the chance that they might have gotten to her."

Ahhh, Adah certainly did have a way with her bedside manner.

"Good thing you brought her in."

Bedside manner. Who needed it, anyway? "Thank you," Cable replied, getting up so he could take the baby back within the safe zone. Also known as him. He ran a finger over the bandaid to make sure. Yep. "It's appreciated."

Adah shrugged her good shoulder. "It's my job."

While we had ponies already so I might actually be okay with the end of the world, I'll be nice, and remember my OOC after all.

FTEC -- Sunday, May 18 -- Evening.

Front Desk -- 05/18

Re: Front Desk -- 05/18

Re: Front Desk -- 05/18

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Re: Front Desk -- 05/18

Exam Rooms -- 05/18

Exam Room 1 -- Janice Summers.

Re: Exam Room 1 -- Janice Summers.

Re: Exam Room 1 -- Janice Summers.

Re: Exam Room 1 -- Janice Summers.

Re: Exam Room 1 -- Janice Summers.

Re: Exam Room 1 -- Janice Summers.

Re: Exam Room 1 -- Janice Summers.

Re: Exam Room 1 -- Janice Summers.

Re: Exam Room 1 -- Janice Summers.

Re: Exam Room 1 -- Janice Summers.

Re: Exam Room 1 -- Janice Summers.

Re: Exam Room 1 -- Janice Summers.

Re: Exam Room 1 -- Janice Summers.

OOC -- 05/18