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fandom_clinic2009-08-23 01:37 pm
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FTEC, Sunday
Well, it wasn't quite Seattle Grace.
Addison took the opportunity when she arrived to look around the clinic. The very small clinic. She had to admit, it was upon seeing it that she had to say to herself that she really didn't know what she was getting herself into, here.
Still, once she'd familiarised herself with the layout, she settled down at the front desk and started paging through medical journals.
[I'm around all day, pending hurricane-induced power-outages -- but those are looking less likely. Feel free to show up and break Addison's brain!]
Addison took the opportunity when she arrived to look around the clinic. The very small clinic. She had to admit, it was upon seeing it that she had to say to herself that she really didn't know what she was getting herself into, here.
Still, once she'd familiarised herself with the layout, she settled down at the front desk and started paging through medical journals.
[I'm around all day, pending hurricane-induced power-outages -- but those are looking less likely. Feel free to show up and break Addison's brain!]
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One never knew when to expect bees, after all. Or ninjas. Ninja bees.
He made his way to the desk, and then paused, leaning forward against it slightly and nodding his hello.
"A new face," he noted. Which was somehow easier than saying, 'So, there were these gatling guns...'
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She did note the way he was leaning against the desk, trying to work out if there was any particular pain in his stance. She rather thought there might be.
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"Well. I'm Captain Nathan Algren. Welcome to the island," he stated. "Brace yourself."
And that was all he was going to say about Fandom, yes. He figured nobody would believe him if he told them, anyhow. Heaven knew, he certainly hadn't believed anything he'd heard at first, either.
"A short while ago, I was in a bit of a... confrontation. I've got a few stitches I would like to have checked up on, if possible."
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"I can certainly take a look at some stitches for you," she said, a little disheartened that this was the extent of her first case on the island. "If you'll come back to the exam room?" She stepped out from behind the desk to lead the way.
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Nathan nodded and followed, though the going was somewhat slow, considering the limp. His movements were stiff, at best, and he was most obviously favoring one leg.
There was a chance that she'd have a more interesting case than she'd figured, considering she was going to be checking in on a medical patch-job done on him back in 1877, and all.
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A little. Maybe. A teeny bit.
"Several bullet wounds. In my leg, hip, chest, shoulder..."
He could list them off one by one for a while. Gatling guns tended to be very unforgiving.
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"How many wounds in total?" Addison asked, filing the 'archaic' comment away for the moment. She mad a few swift notes on the clipboard and glanced around for what she'd need -- suture, needles, disinfectant. "And I'll have to ask you to remove your clothing, please, so I can examine the wounds?"
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Still and all, he was working on removing his shirt now, yes. Modesty was a virtue in his day and age, but she was still the doctor, here.
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It took him another minute or two before he actually managed to shrug out of his shirt, revealing the bandages underneath.
Vintage!
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Then she saw the bandages. "I can see what you mean by... archaic," she said, frowning softly. "And the sutures beneath? Do you know the material used?"
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"Do I want to know where you found someone using silk sutures in this day and age?" she asked, stepping over. She didn't wait for an answer before continuing, as she grabbed a pair of medical scissors. "I'll start by cutting away the bandages on your torso, and then examining these wounds first."
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Algren could live with that, so long as she wasn't planning on amputating anything.
"In my own defense, I wasn't exactly seeking anyone out with silk in paritcular at the time," he informed her, casually. "I was a little busy, bleeding."
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"Understandable," Addison said, hissing as she cut away the bandages to reveal the wounds underneath. There was already sign of infection here, although not so bad as it could be, and for all that the sutures were silk, they did seem to be well-done, at least.
"Your pants, please," she continued. "I think I need to see the wounds all together."
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Of course. So much for any illusion of modesty that he had been hoping to keep up. He sighed and got to work, removing his pants. It wasn't quite so difficult as taking off his shirt had been, if only because all he really had to do was remove his belt, undo the buttons, and let gravity do the rest.
Thank you, gravity. Thank you also, modern underwear, for making it unnecessary to pull off a union suit along with his trousers.
It was actually a wonder he was still standing on his left leg, considering. The wounds were still something shy of two weeks old.
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She wasn't going to ask. Really, it wasn't important.
"I can already tell that you're developing infections," she said, "although nothing seems terribly severe yet. I'll resuture the wounds with more modern materials and methods, and I'd like to put you on IV antibiotics for a few hours."
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He really had no idea what those were, but he was going to take the doctors' orders at face value, and nod faintly.
"Whatever you suppose is necessary," he settled on. He'd find out what in the world she was talking about as it went, fine. If she could get rid of infection, then she was already something of a miracle worker, compared to the medical practises that he was all too familiar with from his own era. "I ought to take a seat, I suppose?"
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Dying from such infections was pretty commonplace in his day. It was his prerogative to ask.
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"Well, then I suppose I'll let you do your thing," he noted, offering her a wry smile as he lowered himself onto his back. "I'm not particularly anxious to let the infection get so serious."
After all, he had to survive a bloody road trip this week, too.
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... And he'd become equally dependant on that. It figured.
He was eyeing the IV in his arm, then, because that seemed easier to focus on than the 'soldier's disease.'
"I'd just as soon keep my wits about me," he noted, though it wasn't entirely a protest. "How long does that thing have to stay in me, anyhow?"
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She eyed the IV. "It'll be at least a couple of hours," she added. "I'd like to give time for the antibiotics to process through your system."
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Modern medicine was something he was going to have to get used to, wasn't it?
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"All right," she said. "I'm going to start removing the old sutures, now." She took up the scalpel again, and a pair of tweezers, and grabbed a shallow tray for the sutures.
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And this certainly beat chloroform, too.
"Out with the old..." A wry grin. Keep still, Nathan. Don't move that arm with the thing in it. Okay. "Go right on ahead with whatever you need to do, Dr. Montgomery. A few sutures is hardly the worst I've felt, lately."
Okay, so, 'a few' was a bit of an understatement.
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"I suppose next you'll be telling me that I ought to try harder not to get shot so many times in the future, hm?"
It was said pleasantly enough. Nathan was, after all, mostly joking. Sometimes, speaking tongue-in-cheek was really the only way he could possibly reply to such things.
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That was followed by a chuckle that probably would have been more painful if not for the drugs. Definitely coming to appreciate the drugs, here.
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For all the sheer amount, Addison nonetheless made short work of the old sutures; she then got to work applying antibiotic gel to the worst. "Some of these will only need liquid suture," she explained. "I'd say only the worst actually need to be sewn up again."
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"Liquid?"
They made it in liquid?
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He was going to say something indicating that he didn't have much of a grasp on such things. But that wasn't really accurate, was it?
"... Nonexistent."
That was more like it, there.
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She was a deft hand with the needle, with tight, careful stitches; already over half of the larger wounds were resewn.
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Possibly all three.
"I never was a man who was afraid to admit ignorance," Nathan decided. Which was... actually more or less true. "I seem to do a good deal more of that, around here."
He was Victorian. He was allowed.
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As for what reading material he was handed? He wasn't terribly choosy. Anything that was remotely modern was good enough for him.
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