My Home From Home (ManxMan)

Chapter 17

"If you could just remove your shirt for me please, Mr MacLeod." Henry slipped the stethoscope off from around his neck and put the earpieces into his ear. He waited as the older man on the examination table unbutton and removed his work shirt; all the while a distinct yet faint whistling sound came from deep within his chest as he inhaled and exhaled. Henry narrowed his deep blue eyes in intrigue as he noted the man's symptoms and internally triaged him, though he needed to further access the situation to know for absolutely certain.

"Alright, now breathe in for me..." Henry said as he placed the diaphragm of the stethoscope onto the man's back. "And breathe out..." Henry said as the man exhaled on command; Henry's face contorted as he heard exactly what he'd feared though he wasn't terribly surprised...

He continued having the man breathe in and out, listening to different parts of his lungs from the front and the back to get a good sense of where all were trouble spots. Granted that the man had been working in the mines for decades, this was rather an open and shut case.

"And you said you're having trouble breathing." Henry asked, prompting the man to nod. "And this flares up from time to time?"

"Aye, Doctor." The man said, wheezing between words, earning him a nod in understanding from the dark haired doctor. "Ah also get these right nasty headaches in the mornin'."

"Have you noticed any weight loss trends?" Henry asked further as he glanced down at the charts that he had for the man showing that he'd lost at least two stone in the past year.

"Aye..." The man coughed out a guttural and very 'wet' sounding cough from deep within his lungs.

"Yes, well. I think I know exactly what the problem here is." Henry said with a sigh knowing he was likely giving the man some of the worst news he could; because as a coal miner what he was about to hear would likely change his life entirely. "Mr MacLeod if you'd like to put your shirt back on and we can sit back at my desk and discuss some things."

The man nodded docilely as Henry smiled comfortingly at him, his smile faltering as he watched the man slip on the shirt by himself; he wasn't terribly old, perhaps only in his late fifties, yet he was hunched over and bones clearly visible through his pinkish coloured skin. This was a literal textbook case and something about this all broke his heart.

At the end of the day, the Kensington Infirmary was mostly frequented by the wealthy who could afford the finest healthcare and the latest treatments; but here he simply couldn't offer the things he had access to back home, and something about that made Henry feel a sensation of drowning he found akin to what he'd read anxiety to be like.

"Right, Mr MacLeod if you'd like to have a seat." Henry straightened out his white doctor's coat as he sat down at his desk, gesturing for the man to seat himself across from him. "Well, unfortunately the news isn't terribly good, I'm afraid. It appears as though you're suffering from emphysema; the shortness of breath, the pinking discolouration of the skin, the flare ups, the wheezing, the rapid weight loss. It all points to emphysema."

"Emphysema..." The older Scotsman repeated under his breath, his eyes darting across the floor as though trying to mentally process everything he was reading. Henry felt his own breath get shallow, his mouth drying up as he gave the man a minute to grasp it all. "Is there a cure?"

"Erm..." Henry took a deep calming breath, his hands firmly gripping at his own leg to settle his nerves. "Well, Mr MacLeod, there... isn't a cure unfortunately. There are medicines I can prescribe to ease the symptoms but unfortunately, there is no true cure for emphysema. As of right now you seem to have a moderate case, meaning that with time... it could get worse..."