Something to Believe In

Eight

By Týr's Day Morn, Rob's hand was practically back to normal, aside from the wicked-looking open wounds in the back of it and the broken bones one couldn't actually see. That was in part due to his girlfriend somewhat torturing him several Times a Day, the frequency increasing, if he was particularly sweaty. He definitely couldn't say he was a big fan of Saltwater unless he was swimming in it, sans open wounds, but her off-the-wall Wisdom was quickly evident.

        Not only was that an effective way to keep those wounds clean so they wouldn't get infected, it also served to help them start Healing on their own. As if that wasn't amazing enough, the Salt kept them from oozing beneath their bandage by keeping them relatively dried out. It wasn't to the point that they were a thick, deep scab or anything–just enough to avoid infection and constant oozing that'd cause any discomfort for him.

        As he walked into the ER of the University of Cincinnati Medical Center that Morn four Days later, he couldn't say he wasn't a lil nervous. He'd left his girlfriend abed since they'd both been up late–after all, he wasn't letting a busted hand stop him from getting laid–so he was on his own this Morn. Sure, he was Comforted by her Calming, loving presence the Morn she'd brought him here, but he was also a big boy. If he couldn't manage to get through seeing a doctor–whether it was for an annual physical or to get a body part stitched up–on his own, then he was in sad need of a different type of professional help.

        "How can I help ya, sir?" the woman manning the nurse's station asked when she looked up and saw him.

        "I'm looking for Dr. Lacy, if she's on-duty this Morn," Rob answered. "I was here earlier this week about my hand since we weren't sure, if it was broken it or not at first."

        "Ah, so it's a follow-up?" she asked, nodding as she started typing behind her desk.

        "Kinda, sorta," the young bassist chuckled. "She told me to come back so it could be stitched up since she'd to filet it before I wound up losing it."

        Cocking a brow, she didn't seem to get what he meant, which made him chuckle again as he laid his bandaged hand on the edge of it.

        "I can't remember the term she used off the top of my head–I'ma musician, not a doctor, after all," Rob told her as he unwrapped the bandage.

        "Ah, a fasciotomy," the woman said after a quick glance. "Yeah, definitely needsta be stitched up, as long as the swelling those incisions were supposed to be relieving has gone down."

        "Pretty sure it has," he told her. "It was three Times this size when I was here earlier this week."

        "Yikes, no Wonder Dr. Lacy made that call." She winced sympathetically.

        "Yeah, I mean–it's not quite its normal size, I don't think, but nothing like a few Days ago," the young bassist said. "I'ma let her make the final judgment, but hopefully I can get these jokers closed up today."

        Nodding, the nurse told him she'd go see, if the doctor he sought was currently with a patient or not while he waited in the waiting area. She didn't think she was–considering the ER was pretty much dead at the moment–but she could still be getting set up after clocking in. He was quick to Return the nod, grabbing the lil bit of paperwork he'd brought with him after she helped rewrap his hand before heading off to the area she'd indicated.

        Rob sighed as he settled in one of the most uncomfortable chairs he'd ever come across in his Life, dragging his good hand down his face. Part of him almost wanted to just walk outta here right now, but there was a bigger part that really wanted his hand closed up so it'd Heal properly. If he were honest, he was just ready for that Healing to happen so he wasn't in pain, mostly 'cuz Lyric wouldn't let him have his painkiller till bedtime.