cape_kore | Martha's 3rd - Video/Action

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Martha's 3rd - Video/Action - Day 98

[To anyone who has been to the clinic when it was still there, that's where you'll see Martha when the video opens up.]

In an attempt to be of some use around here, I'm opening up the clinic again. I have my credentials from Royal Hope Hospital in London circa 2008. I also have experience treating non-humans thanks to some travel in both time and space. Most recently, I have gained experience as a field medic.

For anyone who has been seeing Dr. Barrett as your physician while here on this island, you may keep seeing her. But more doctors are always helpful.

If you have any questions or would like to sit for a physical, you may talk to me here or come visit the clinic. If not, that's perfectly fine too.

[Of course, baseline physicals would be much better, but she's not going to push anyone. Martha wants to be trusted above anything else.]

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Not a whole lot. I have some broken ribs, but they seem to be healing okay. I mostly focused on managing the pain.

Yes... the pain. It would be considerable with some broken ribs. I could stop by, make a house call and check up on you. I don't see any patient records.

I don't know if any were kept. Bruce -- the doctor who fixed me up -- isn't here anymore, in any case.

[There's a slight pause, and then a nod.]

I suppose that couldn't hurt.

If they were, he locked them up somewhere. Mark of a good doctor, keeping patient confidentiality.

[She notes the pause, but he's said yes. Martha nods back and softens her features.]

What's your house number? I can be there in ten minutes.

House 19. Down by the water.

[He offers her a slight smile, because really, he hadn't expected a house call, and as much as he's wary of doctors, he knows it's a wise idea.]

See you in ten.

[After Martha hangs up, it occurs to her she didn't give the man her name. Nor does she know his. Oh well... she grabs a few select items and throws them in a bag before heading over to House 19. Knock knock knock]

Hello? It's Martha, the doctor from the video message. We just spoke a few minutes ago.

[He'd been sitting in the kitchen, waiting for the knock on the door, because what better use does he have for his time around here? As soon as she knocks, he's up and opening the door, charming smile in place, offering a handshake.]

Nice to meet you in person, Martha. I'm Meyer. C'mon in.

[He ushers her into the kitchen, which is immaculately clean except for a cup of tea he'd been drinking on the table.]

Edited (apparently I suck at HTML tags) 2013-08-07 18:11 (UTC)

Hullo Meyer.

[She shakes his hand and watches him as they walk back to the kitchen. Martha's trying to figure out just how hurt he is, how he's walking, and then she sees the kitchen.]

This is quite clean for someone suffering broken ribs.

((OOC: Let me know if she should notice anything about his movements and where the stitches are. Don't want to godmod))

Edited (Hit enter too soon.) 2013-08-07 23:50 (UTC)

[He looks around almost sheepishly, nodding. If she'd seen the kitchen the day before, she wouldn't have thought that, but he'd devoted the entire morning to cleaning it, and it does look pretty good. He's moving gingerly, though, posture unnaturally stiff -- part of that's the broken ribs, part of that's just the way he holds himself in general.]

Not much else to do around here besides clean, is there?

[He glances at her again.]

The ribs're doing okay, I think. The stitches're on my back -- three pretty big gashes -- and then a smaller wound on my collarbone. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing about them, if there's anything I can do to make them heal faster...

[She listens, assessing the situation. Martha has no reason to believe this man is from any time other than the latter 2000 decade, so she figures he'll be OK with a physical.]

I'll need to see the wounds to give you better information. And assess the rib damage just to make sure they are healing, though I can't see why they wouldn't be.

[To be fair, he's retired his more obviously dated clothes -- the suit, the tie, the suspenders -- to the closet, for fear of ruining them. In his slightly too long jeans and his plain t-shirt, he could be from just about any time. Most people don't automatically assume 1920s. Unfortunately, despite his clothes, some of his attitudes are extremely dated, which should become immediately obvious.]

You mean you want me to take off my shirt?

Well yes. How else am I to examine the wounds?

[It probably doesn't help that she's a woman of color either.]

[He pauses, then smiles almost apologetically.]

Of course. Point well taken. I'm somewhat... wary of doctors.

[It's the casual nudity -- because he considers shirtlessness practically as bad as nudity, really -- in front of other people, especially doctors, which bothers him more than anything, but she's stopped by to make a house call, and he can make an effort to be a decent patient. He turns away from her to take off the t-shirt, once again wondering to himself when he'll get used to modern fashion, and reveals three very large stitched together gashes across his back. They'd obviously been quite deep, and taken quite a bit of work to stitch back together -- the scars will likely last a lifetime.]

[It seems everyone here is wary of doctors. Martha keeps her manner professional.]

I am sorry to hear that. I promise I'm professional and I do have quite a bit of experience. I became a doctor to help people.

[She slips on a pair of gloves when he takes his shirt off. Just by looking at the stitches, it's clear the previous doctor was good at his job. They will scar, but that's to be expected.]

I'm have some antibacterial cream here. The stitches are healing fine, I just want to use some of this to boost the process. It means I'm going to touch your back.

[She always warns her patients.]

[There's a distinctly apologetic noise of assent at her comment.]

I hope you don't think I'm doubting your professionalism. It's been a... trying several weeks, is all.

[He probably doesn't need to say that, especially to someone who's an even newer arrival than himself. Being stuck here has been hard on everyone, and no one feels quite in their element. His posture stiffens a little when she says she's going to touch him, but then relaxes slightly, grateful for the warning.]

Where're you from? And when?

[That makes this whole standing around shirtless thing a lot less awkward. It's the typical question around here, too, wanting to know the wheres and whens of everything. Most everyone is from far in his future. The only question is how far ahead, relatively, Martha is.]

No. I just like to assure people. Sometimes it calms them.

[Martha's not about to touch the trying couple of weeks comment. It's been a trying year for her and to be pulled out of it before knowing if she had done any good... yeah... not about to touch that at all.]

I'm from London circa 2009.

[She finishes with the cream and steps back.]

Let's take a look at your collarbone then.

Pretty much everyone here's from the future. My future, I mean.

[He turns around, showing her his collarbone. The wound is small, but looks like it had been deep. When it had happened, the bone had shown through, though thankfully, he doesn't particularly remember that. The shock, most likely, or the pain, had dulled his senses.]

New York, 1923.

1923? Really. That was one of my more interesting adventures... New York in the 20s.

[Martha says it casually as though a woman from 2009 being in 1920s New York was a common occurrence. She had told everyone...]

[The collarbone wound was definitely the worse of the two. Martha keeps her face neutral as she examines it.]

More antibacterial ointment.

[She smears that one too and then adds a bandage.]

If it starts bleeding or weeping, call me right away. The last thing is your ribs. Do you have somewhere you can lie down comfortably?

You've been to New York in the 20s?

[A couple weeks ago, he'd've disbelieved that, but he's seen all kinds of things since he's arrived here that have challenged his notions of what's possible.]

Time travel?

[He's heard about that. There's no way she's old enough to have been born in the early 1900s, not unless she doesn't age. Which he supposes is also possible, given that there are people with all kinds of powers here.]

Yeah, I've got a pretty comfortable bed.

Time travel. Met someone who had a time machine. It was an fantastic journey. Lots of stories.

[She smiles as she thinks of some of the better ones.]

A bed is great if you're comfortable with me being there. I need to feel around the rib bones. Easiest done with you lying down, but I want you to feel comfortable.

You must've learned so much. Not sure I can imagine what that'd be like.

[Sure, being stuck here is almost like time travel, in a way, what with all the people from the future, but it's not the same as what she'd experienced, from the sound of it. He shrugs a little.]

Yeah. The bed's fine. Right this way.

[The bedrooms are in the back of the house, and he walks into the larger of the two, which is considerably less immaculate than the kitchen. In fact, he has to kick what looks suspiciously like an empty liquor bottle under the bed as he heads in. At least the bed's made, though.]

It's an experience I wish more people were able to take part in. It gives you perspective of a lot of things.

[Martha follows Meyer to his bedroom noting that he is injured so if she's read him completely wrong, she should be able to make an effective getaway. She doubts that'll happen though.]

[She only looks around as much as she needs to to try and catch a better idea of who this man is. The liquor bottle of course catches her notice, but she keeps herself neutral. Finally she walks up to the bed.]

This is going to be the most uncomfortable part. You're to lie down on your back and I'm going to do some poking and prodding to make sure things are where they say they are. When Bruce examined you, what did he say about the ribs?

[He lies down on his back, not bothering to disguise the slight wince as he does so. Moving around is still a bit uncomfortable, even if it's not as bad as it had been when he'd first been injured.]

He said that a couple of them were definitely broken, but there wasn't much we could do about it. He made sure the broken ones hadn't caused any other kind of internal injury, and gave me some variety of opiates to manage the pain. I've had broken ribs before -- it's never exactly pleasant.

[Martha nods as she listens.]

I wish I could find his patient records. I wouldn't have to do so many examinations then. OK... I'm going to lay my hands on your ribs and exert a small amount of pressure. I want you to tell me the pain level. One is slight discomfort, ten is you feel you're going to pass out.

[She starts on his right side and moves to the left. Then she asks him to slowly raise and lower his arms so she can feel how the area reacts to that.]

[He winces slightly, but in reality, it's more from being touched than from anything else. The ribs feel better than they had two and a half weeks before, but he can tell they're not fully healed. Still, he's not the type to carry on or complain about pain, in general, so he just answers her question matter-of-factly.]

A five, maybe.

Martha's 3rd - Video/Action - Day 98

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((by the way, how tall is Meyer? Martha's super short at 5'2"

Re: ((he's the tiniest of tiny gangsters, coming in at a whopping 5'3"))

((Oh good. That makes it a lot easier.))

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