So, I Transmigrated Into The Heavenly Realm

42. What Did You do to my Patient?

42

Omdum left the sunlight filled room in which they had laid out an unconscious Dythos on a small but comfortable hospital bed. As he left, he gently pulled the door closed behind him so as not to wake the Wheat God.

Waiting for him outside were a not insignificant number of guards awkwardly trying not to block the narrow corridor for the healers rushing back and forth along it. This was one of the busiest parts of the entire Healing Halls. The way that they pressed themselves against the wall would be amusing if Omdum wasn't outraged by their behaviour at this moment in time.

He would have to find the amusement in it later, right now he had a lot that needed to be said.

"I'm not going to tell you how to do your job but...you seriously need to stop stressing him out." The God of Healing said, holding the charts of one Dythos God of Wheat in his hands. For being a god that had been so badly injured it was already a miracle that he wasn't dead even more so when his believer base had dwindled to practically nothing . Healing the trauma from the battle mentally and physically was going to take a long time.

Much longer than a deity in their prime would take and that was all the more reason that he was pissed off right now.

The assembled guards looked chagrined except for Olris who was glaring at him and clenching their jaw in what Omdum took to be an attempt at being menacing. He'd seen scarier looking kittens before.

"He needs someone to look over him not a jailer!" Omdum said in an annoyed tone that matched their facial expression.

"This literally hasn't happened before." Olris said, walking forward to stand in front of the angry healer. They could both feel the curious eyes of the gathered guards upon them. Omdum guessed that was why Olris felt so confident in challenging him on his medical opinion.

It was true that there had never been anyone else that had been dealt such a bum hand of cards. That made certain things very difficult.

His wounds had healed physically though Dythos was still covered in heavy scarring. Scars that were a constant reminder of what had happened.

Omdum really had tried everything that he knew of to reduce their prominent gold sheen, the fine ridges they gave Dythos' skin and any residual pain or restriction of movement that they would give him but there was always something unpredictable about scars.

On one person they would melt away, even they would forget that there had ever been a scar there at all. Someone else would be left with visible, painfully disabling ones.

Looking at Dythos right now, it was hard to say which way his case was going to go. Caring for Dythos meant having to make treatments up on the fly because there weren't any presidents.

Number one rule in Omdum's department of healing was to ensure that all patients were given dignity during the time they were under his care.

"It's precisely because it's never happened before that it's so important to deal with this delicately and not make him have a panic attack because you're not letting him live his life." He scolded. Dythos' stress levels were through the roof.

Omdum had given advice that he should rest but his patient was the one best able to define what that meant to him. Dythos' condition being so novel to them meant that the God of Healing was happy to let that happen. The biggest thing you could give a patient was the ability to make what choices they were capable of making about their own care.