Ginger Snap-Back


brennan_icon.gif lola2_icon.gif

Scene Title Ginger Snap-Back
Synopsis The Ginger is healing nicely.
Date November 1, 2009

Brennan Medical Services

Brennan Medical Services, the place that Lola was referred to to have stitches and the like taken out when it was time. The waiting room is comfortable, cushy, the secretary at the front desk is even smiling and nice. Open desk, not something behind a frosted glass screen. The practice has both doctors in this morning. Both Brennan's present and accounted for. The second is likely to go on leave to have their child soon enough and so Harve has been looking for someone to pinch hit for his wife and thinks he may have an old medschool friend who will take vacation and come in for a few weeks.

So it is, that Brennan's coming out from behind the doors marked 'staff only' while holding a chart in which he flips through the pages one by one.
New patient it seems. "Mary Lou?" He lifts his face to scan to one of the few people waiting and looking for someone to recognize their name being called and rise.

At first, Lola doesn't recognize the name. All she can do is sneer a little at the goofiness of it. Then she remembers that goofy name is her goofy name, so she pushes to her feet, grumbling as one hand holds over her abdomen. Gunshot hurts. "Yeah, s'me," the faux-redheaded southern girl drawls. She's wearing jeans, a tank top, and a loose long sleeved shirt over that. No purse, nothing like that. Her hair is down and bone-straight, and red of course. As she moves to walk past Brennan, she pauses, looking up at him. "Doncha belong on one a them soap opears, suger? Ain' no real doctor looks like that 'cept that Clooney feller."

'Ahh Miss Winston, my wife will be so glad to hear you compare me to Clooney. She's said she'd leave me in a heartbeat for him" Brennan holds the door open for her as he takes note of the hand over her abdomen. "But yes, there are supposedly doctors that are very real and look like George Clooney, but without the villa on Lake Como." Once they're through, he gestures towards one of the open door'd exam rooms. "What seems to be the issue today Mary-lou?"

"Well Ah got shot. Again," she says, dryly, matter-of-factly. "An it's gettin' kinda gross, an Ah think that some ol fellah'd get kinda upset if he knew Ah weren' goin' ta a doctor - real one, anyway, he got all fussy when Ah went ta one a them 'chop shops' as he so called 'em - an Ah kinda need it ta go away, ya know?" Of course, she doesn't mention that this guy is the guy who shot her but still. The girl wanders into the exam room, stripping off her long-sleeved shirt as she goes without the least care in the world, tossing it on a nearby table. "An Ah just wanna make sure ya'll actually be lookin' at my booboo, steada tryin' ta memorize lines or somethin'."

"Nasty line of business you must be in if you're shot again" Brennan doesn't blink with the doffing of her top. "Would you like a female nurse present" Standard question really, when you're a male doctor and the patient is female and standing in her bra. Door doesn't close all the way, waiting for her answer. he's also looking over her abdomen with praticed eye to get a judge of how long ago she was shot and whether things were healing good.

"Nah, sugar, Ah don' care," Lola says, dismissively. He can see that she is rather scarred and cut up at this point. There is a bandage over her back - a rather large one, hiding an exit wound - as well as a healing exit wound more toward the flesh just above her hip. The girl slowly climbs up on the exam table, a flicker of pain over her face as she lays back, belly up. Here, the entry wound above her hip can be seen, from about 2 months ago. There is a bandage just below her belly button, hiding the belly entry wound. On her shoulder is another entry wound, this one also from about two months ago. She lays back with a sigh, relaxing all of the muscles in her middle. That helps, at least. "Would ya believe me if Ah told ya Ah were kinda…unemployed freelance right now?" She chuckles, shaking her head. "Ain' none a these were even mah fault, either."

There's a comment on the tip of his tongue about how she's probably not the first to say that being shot was not her fault. Instead the door is closed for privacy and he starts going over the more fresher wounds, poking prodding, feeling and testing the stitches to see if they need to come out or whether they stay in for a bit more. "Free lance unemployed. I'll take that as a 'I have no insurance, please do this all out of the kindness of your heart' kind of visit?"

Brennan's face is schooled into concentration as he goes about his work. "How long ago was this and how bad is the pain still?"

"Man, no wonder all them folks an politicians are bitchin'. Girl gets shot three times an yer first concern is 'where's yer wallet at?' Just tell me how much Ah owe ya, suger, ye'll get yers." She'll make Kain take care of it. Or she'll steal it from someone else. Either way, there's little concern. "Was about…three weeks ago, Ah think? An it still hurts. Ah mean…there's a hole in mah belly, sugar, an it ain' the belly type, if ya know what Ah mean." She bits her lip a bit as he pokes a sore spot. "Ain' hurt so bad now thoguh. Mah shrink's got me on that Methadone shit."

Drug withdrawal, on top of gunshots. Exciting. "It was meant as a joke Mary-Lou, keep your britches on. What are they weaning you off of?" Brennan purses his lips at the back exit wound, peering beneath gauze then eventually peeling it all the way off. "We'll clean em, redress them, i'll give you some extra supplies. if you need help come on back, one of our nurses can do it for you. Just keep on keeping em dry" He offers her a msile

What are they weaning her off of? Crap, she can't remember what she told the shrink. "Drugs," she responds, knee-jerk-like, while it takes her a minute to think of what drugs she's supposed to be on. "Heroine. But doncha go tellin' nobody bout that, yeah? Don' even go puttin' it inta mah charts or nothin. Fellah's payin' fer all a this, he ain' supposed ta know 'bout that. Ow!" She flinches as he continues to clean out her wound, seemingly perfectly comfortable half-topless.

"Good that you're getting clean. I'm meeting far too many addicts lately. REfrain, heroin, they seem to be very popular right now" LAtex gloves on to protect the wound, he's going about patching her up, slapping salve on stuff, things that, really, a nurse could do, but he's here and there's no one else waiting outside that he knows of. OR they're his wife's patients. "What are you doing for halloween?"

"Gettin' shit-faced. Who ain'?" She asks, as though that were a very nonsensical question. "Look Doc, Ah don' mean ta be ungrateful or nothin, but I gotta question. When do ya think this'll be healed up enough fer me ta…say…ride a roller coaster or shoot a rifle where mah stitches won't open?" Take a guess as to which one of those two things she'll actually be doing.

"You'll be gun ready in probably, week and a half, two weeks. Even then, i'd take it easy. Depends too on how you're eating, resting, taking care of yourself. You've been on heroin, you're body is going through a lot right now, It might be longer" He's not sugar coating it. "I'd offer you a prescription for painkillers too but you just told me that your getting on the wagon so. Ibuprofen for you young miss" Satisfied with his work and one last piece of medical tape sealing gauze to skin, he stands back to regard her. "Get plenty of rest, don't strain yourself, eat healthy, maybe even take some multi-vitamins. Who knows. Do you smoke Mary Lou?"

Lola sits up, pulling on her shirt with a little flinch, and then the long-sleeved shirt that goes over it. "Sometimes," she admits, without the least bit of shame. "Just cigarettes, though, nothin' crazy." Because what could be crazier than heroine, anyway? Even if that's not what she's on. "Why, ya need ta bum a ciggy?"

"Nope, that'll set you back too. Kick the heroin first, then kick the smoking, take up gum chewing. I hear that's healthier. You're good ot go, i'll give you a scrip for more antibiotics, just to make sure" He's pretty sure she might not quite have the facilities to ward off infection and the like. "Come back in a week and a half and we'll take out all the stitches and send you on your way. Keep up the methodone treatment too. Proud of you for trying" Positive re-enforcement.

"Yeah well," she grumbles, not taking praise well. She just doesn't know how. "My shrink's a bitch." Relevenceis questionable, but it's what she can think to say. The girl slides off the table, making sure her shirt is pulled down properly. "Thanks, George," she drawls, giving him a little wave as she steps out the door to check out at the desk.

"Brennan" He calls back, heading out of the room before her so that he can go to a counter, make nots, write out something illegible to only a pharmacist. On second thought, he scribbles a note for a nurse to fill it from the clinic's supplies, instructions LEGIBLE on a sticker on the bottle that Lola gets upon checking out. Brennan nowhere to be seen for this act of kindness as he's off to look at some kid with something apparently stuck up his nose and a frantic mother.

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