Participants:
| Scene Title | Only Human, Huh? |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Graeme visits Brennan for follow-up. Apparently being stabbed isn't something one should just brush off. |
| Date | March 21, 2011 |
Brennan Medical Group
Graeme Cormac has been sitting in the waiting room of Brennan Medical Group for just over half an hour now. The first half of that, though, was spent filling out paperwork, rather slowly and tediously, and the second half has been spent with one of the earphones connected to his cell phone in, listening to music and trying to overall remain calm and less nervous and such than he actually is. His right arm is in a sling, strapped carefully to his body, which he had to have assistance with in the morning. Occasionally, he glances at the reception desk, shifts in his seat, other such fidgeting motions.
Monday's are terrible days for appointments. Everyone and their mother got sick over the weekend and begged to be seen by the doctors. So they're squeezed in, where possible and sometimes, usually, that leads to a little bit more wait than anticipated. But there's at least current magazines on the tables, a coffee maker that seems to be refreshed as necessary and a water tank for people. Kids can play in an adjacent small room with toys while they wait so as not to disturb other patients who maybe can't take the crying or noise.
Eventually though, that half hour ends and a nurse pokes her head out the door to call for Graeme and lead him to the back for vitals to be taken and settled into a room where he can wait a few minutes more with the promise of "Dr. Brennan will be right with you."
Which he is, if the thump of a chart being removed is any indication, followed by the turning of the doorknob and ingress of one dark haired physician he's met once, with the silver at his temples looking up from the chart. Hesitation at the sight of Graeme, a glance back down to the chart to get his name then out the door to make sure that he wasn't meant for his wife.
"Mr. Cormac?" Close shaven hair, scruff on the jaw that's well kept, he offers his hand out to the other man. "Interesting to meet you again, if you like, I can see if someone else can take you instead of me."
Graeme shakes his head a bit. "No, no, actually … it was specifically recommended I see you," he says, quietly, as he returns the handshake, though this time it is awkward because he's very, very obviously right-handed, and it's his left hand that he has free in order to do so. "That is, if it's alright." He leans his head to one side, where he'd usually shrug, which he can't do at the moment, leaning back a bit. He's not as fidgety as he was out in the lobby, not nearly.
"No, it's perfectly fine with me to treat you. I can have a nurse in here if it would make you feel more comfortable, if not, we can carry on." Which, barring Graeme asking for the nurse, the door is closed and a stool produced so he can sit on it and look at the chart. "You got yourself injured this past…weekend?"
"Thursday evening," Graeme responds. "I was at the ball thrown by the American Ballet Theater. It got a bit complicated, overall, and yes." He looks over at Brennan, and pauses. "My ability complicates it a bit more, as well. Thing is, yes, I got stabbed in the shoulder, but at this point, to me it feels a lot more like an annoyance than anything else."
"What precisely is your ability. I have to confess that our brief interaction on the street, I didn't know much about it other than I was negating you without realizing it." Brennan moves away from the folder so he can wash his hands, look over his shoulder towards Graeme. "You went to the hospital, they took care of you, I presume they updated your tetanus?"
"It's registered as superhuman endurance," Graeme says, in response. "They did, yes. The last time I actually tried to measure it, see what everything does, it's somewhere over four times normal. I haven't had a chance to look into it yet." He shifts a bit in his seat again.
"Ahh, yes, I can see how that might be worrisome, especially if it feels like an annoyance. Annoyance to you might be dear god my arm is falling off, to others. Do you mind if I negate you for a few moments? Just so we can get a more accurate gauge of the situation? If not, we'll carry on as we are." He's not going to force it on the other man, getting on some gloves, a gesture for him to try and take off his shirt so that they can see what they're dealing with.
The sling is carefully removed, one-handedly, and then the shirt he's wearing unbuttoned. Graeme slips it off of his shoulders, revealing the bandaging and strapping underneath the shirt, a thick gauze pad over the dressing of the wound. "I don't mind. If I'm expecting it, I can deal," he responds, smiling. "And yeah. A friend of mine has been keeping an eye on me the past few days. She's concerned that I'm going to tear something more accidentally, or that I'm not going to notice if I make it worse, not right away." He looks to Brennan, indicating the other man to go ahead.
It comes not long after, settling over him in the blink of an eye when activated, but he's felt it before. His body assuming a non-evolved status, cut off from the ability as Brennan works off the tape and gauze so he can check out the wound. "No fever, so that's good. and…" and he looks. Stitches a little strained but all in all, no hint of infection or smell.
"Your roommate is likely right and you're pushing it, but then, superhuman endurance, you can push it. But in this instance probably good to rest it, really, for a week. If not more. You were stabbed Mr. Cormac. It's not like a scratch to be brushed off."
Graeme sucks in his breath. "Oww," he mutters as the negation sets in and he realises that there's actual pain in his shoulder, and Graeme tries very, very hard not to move. He can deal with it, though without his ability it's just a habit of the sheer force of will that he's acquired over the years. He chuckles, wincing more at the bit of notion of his shoulder. "Yeah. I'm trying to. I'm pretty used to brushing stuff off, but." He nods.
"I'm used to pushing it. So … how long do I have to take it easy, overall? I know, no basketball or weights or the punching bag or anything, right?" He sounds impatient, boyish, like the thought of wearing the sling for the greater part of the next month is making him stir-crazy just thinking about it.
"Well, a few weeks, would be ideal," Brennan murmurs as he goes about the process of patching Graeme back up, satisfied with what he's seen. "Arm in the sling till at least the stitches are out, given that nature of your ability and what you've so far said your realization of whether you're pushing it or not. That's being generous. Don't suppose I could convince you to take some negation drugs for at least a week, so you can be aware of whether you're pushing yourself or not?" He's not expecting Graeme to say yes to that at all.
Graeme winces at the concept. "No. A few weeks, I can deal with that I guess." Brennan could try to suggest the negation drugs, but well, but the concept is just too strange for Graeme, and while he can deal with it for brief periods when he's been warned, and when he knows it's necessary. "Probably not. Too weird, just thinking about it." Just thinking about it, Graeme's shoulders have tensed a bit with relative unease.
"Then take your painkillers, pretend that you're SLC negative, and treat yourself like you are SLC negative. I'll give you some antibiotics just in case and if it starts to look red, fill it and start taking them and make another appointment in a week and we'll see how you're going. If you're not taking care of it, then… we'll revisit the negation drug option again, but… Just kick your roommate and remind her, to remind you, that you're only human huh?" Brennan smiles at Graeme, picking up the mans shirt, offering to help him get it back on.
There's a nod, accepting the help. "I'm pretty sure she'll make sure I take it easy, yeah. She sort of kicked me into not being stupid about things at the hospital in the first place." Graeme chuckles a little bit, when he says that. "Right, of course." There's a smile as he finishes the last button on his shirt. "Thanks, man."
"You say thanks now, wait for the bill." Brennan turns, taking a seat on the stool so he can start scribbling down notes. "If I"m not here, you can schedule an appointment with my wife or one of the other physicians in our practice." When he's done, when Graeme is dressed, he's extending his hand back out, negation has dropped, things return to normal. "Pleasure to meet you again on slightly better circumstances Mr. Cormac"
Graeme chuckles a bit. The handshake is returned, after Graeme adjusts the last strap of the sling. "And that, that is why I pay for health insurance," he says, with a bit of a grin. "And one of the main reasons I have a job." He gets to his feet, carefully. "Again, thank you. I'll be sure to take it easy."
