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damned_institute2006-12-01 02:00 am
damned-doctors.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2006-12-01 02:00 am
Day 20: Dr. Wilson's Office [Doctor's Office 6]
It was silly, but Wilson was nervous.
Mental health was by no means his specialty. It was true that he more or less had to act as a counselor for his patients. Most of them had terminal cancer. The dates were never any good. Two years, one year, six months, three months. He could speak to people about dying well enough, but this was different.
Hopefully he would get the hang of it. He took solace in the fact that he had a bit more experience than some of the other doctors. Such as, oh, House? He wasn't sure what the chief of staff had been thinking when he hired him. It made him wonder if the administrators were as insane as the patients.
Even though therapy didn't start first thing in the morning, Wilson had made sure to be there extra early anyway. (He had to make up for House, who would undoubtedly be late.) His office was also cleaner than it would normally be - first impressions were important, after all, and that was probably even more true with mental patients. He heard the intercom, which meant his first patient would be heading in soon. He straightened in his chair, though his nervousness caused him to grab a random doodad off of his desk and start fiddling with it.
[ ooc: ForAdelheid, Cliff, Dias, Eric, Hikaru, Riza, Scar, and Seimei. ]
Mental health was by no means his specialty. It was true that he more or less had to act as a counselor for his patients. Most of them had terminal cancer. The dates were never any good. Two years, one year, six months, three months. He could speak to people about dying well enough, but this was different.
Hopefully he would get the hang of it. He took solace in the fact that he had a bit more experience than some of the other doctors. Such as, oh, House? He wasn't sure what the chief of staff had been thinking when he hired him. It made him wonder if the administrators were as insane as the patients.
Even though therapy didn't start first thing in the morning, Wilson had made sure to be there extra early anyway. (He had to make up for House, who would undoubtedly be late.) His office was also cleaner than it would normally be - first impressions were important, after all, and that was probably even more true with mental patients. He heard the intercom, which meant his first patient would be heading in soon. He straightened in his chair, though his nervousness caused him to grab a random doodad off of his desk and start fiddling with it.
[ ooc: For
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The more he moved away from his own condition, the happier Adelheid would become. And, ironically enough... he was starting to feel a little protective of this doctor. He didn't want Wilson to be subjected to what this hospital offered, even if he was likely a part of it anyway.
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Wilson wasn't sure how to respond at first. He hadn't heard anything about what happened at Landel's at time. He was usually out of his office by six o' clock. He had assumed that things went as expected. The patients were given dinner and left in their rooms until the next morning. What was Adel getting at?
"No," he said after a rather long pause, not quite sure what else to say. He got the feeling he wasn't going to like what he heard next, however.
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"As you can guess, I am trained as a fighter, and I do not act passively when I am attacked. Nevertheless this happened; now do you see why I refuse to sleep when I might be vulnerable?"
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The doctor couldn't help himself. When he saw the contusions, he had to stand from his seat and walk around the desk to get a closer look. He had to wonder what the cause had been. It was obvious to see that the indentations indicated strangulation.
"A fighter?" he asked, peering down at his throat. "There's something about that in the file," he affirmed. "What kind of fighter?" It wasn't something he came in contact with every day (and it was as good a topic as any for discussion), so he figured he'd indulge in a bit of curiosity. If it was possible that patients could get to each other during the night and do this sort of damage, he might have to speak to the authorities about it.
"May I?" he asked, pulling his hands forward to indicate that he wanted to examine the bruising.
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"The vulgar term for it would be a 'prizefighter'; I competed in tournaments for the prestige of victory. But I see it as a higher calling; one avenue of self-perfection that demands rigorous training and a ruthless embrace of the truth, however harsh."
The teenager faintly smiled as he added, "And, whatever your files might say, it is also the 'family business', as well."
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"Family business?" That made it sound more like the mafia, but Wilson kept that thought to himself as well.
As he waited for the boy's response, he gently placed his fingers on his neck, prodding carefully at the bruises. "This shouldn't take too long to heal," he assured him. "The neck isn't the best place to get hurt, as you probably know, but most of the bruising isn't too close to the jugular." It still must have hurt quite a bit at the time, though.
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He still wasn't comfortable with having the other man touch him like that, not with his bruises, and he shrank away at the start. It was only when he had taken a breath that he let the doctor feel. "...the creature responsible wasn't planning to kill me, Doctor. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."
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Creature. That was quite the word to use. Wilson wasn't sure how to respond, so he'd busy himself without something instead. He moved away from the patient and to the mini-fridge he had in the corner. It didn't happen to have any food in it at the moment, but it did have ice. He put a few cubes into a cloth and then handed it to Adel. "That should help with the swelling," he said as he returned to his seat.
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The teenager fell silent, waiting for the doctor to speak again. Though a nap sounded really good at that point in time.
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"Did you want to take a nap in here?" he asked with a concerned frown. "It's quieter than the cafeteria or arts and crafts." If the boy wasn't sleeping at night, then he had to sleep during the day. Lack of sleep led to hallucination and would make his delusions more pronounced. "I have some medical journals I want to read, anyway," he finished with a small smile.
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In the end, though, his body pretty much decided for him. With a slight nod and a faint smile, the teenager curled up on the couch and drifted off. Sleep was something he desperately needed at that point, after all... though now he made a note to be a bit more rested in the future. Maybe, this doctor might be worth the effort of speaking to after all.
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The nurse came in to wake up the patient and lead him to arts and crafts. He smiled at the groggy blond. "I'll see you next time," he offered amiably.