Trouble in the third floor corridor [Berwald]

Ivan was bored. Ivan wanted to cause trouble. So Ivan thought he’d wonder around the hospital for a while. The wheelchair was a slow vehicle, even if he had gotten his hands on one of those electric ones so that he didn’t have to wheel it himself or get someone to push it for him. Surely his leg was fixed by now, but for some reason, most of his doctors didn’t pay him much attention any more… Ivan wiggled his toes. They moved, so that meant he was all better again! He then pressed his fingers to his chest and winced. His ribs, not so much. He wouldn’t bother testing his head; the constant dull throb told him that it wasn’t better just yet.

But back to his leg! He needed to get his cast off somehow, but whenever he asked passing nurses, they told him he couldn’t take his cast off yet. Well, the nerve! Ivan would have to do this the usual way. By finding a store cupboard. Ivan wasn’t sure which floor he was on at the moment, but that didn’t matter. He looked up at the large white sign which hung at the start of the corridor. He wasn’t sure what it said, his English was not great (especially when it came to these scientific terms), but one of them might have said Physics… Maybe. Another one was ‘Department’, he saw that word all over the place in the hospital.

Not that it mattered, like he said. Ivan just needed a store cupboard, and there one was! Two, actually, in the whole of the corridor. Ivan went into the first easily enough. It seemed that it had been left unlocked by accident. Or perhaps somebody had left for a moment and planned to come back soon, in which case, Ivan should hurry up. There were lots of things for emergencies here, like those oxygen mask things like the one Ivan had on his way to the hospital. He decided to leave that in case someone really needed it.
 
Further back, there was a pack of… those sharp things. What do doctors call them? Ivan was not sure, he could not even think of them in Russian. But, they were sharp and they would do the job well enough. Ivan grabbed one and wheeled out of the store cupboard, shutting the door behind him, and sat in a corner of the calm, empty corridor. Then he began to cut at his cast.

It was cutting. It was definitely cutting the cast open. But it was very, very slow. The blade was small and the cast was thick and quite tough on the outside. Ivan spent a while hacking at it, managing to cut the cast down to his knee. This process was almost too slow to be worth it. It didn’t help that he had to stop and pretend he was not doing anything every time a doctor or nurse went by. He also kept getting suspicious looks from those who went by more than once and spotted Ivan still there.

But, after almost an hour of hard work, he managed to cut down the cast far enough to pull his leg out of it.

The breeze on it felt so good. Ivan had missed this feeling of freedom, and nearly leapt out of his wheelchair with joy. Instead, he got out very carefully, because it was awkward to get in and out of wheelchairs, and he didn’t feel like falling over and onto his broken ribs.

Finally, he was successful, and standing, but a high-pitched yelp left his mouth when he put weight on his bad leg, and toppled over despite his efforts. Onto his ribs, no less. His head spun and he wasn’t entirely sure what he did with the sharp thing, either. He cursed himself in his head, because now he was in pain, unable to move on the ground, and would probably get into serious trouble with Doctor Honda for removing his cast.

(( Woops. This was far longer than I intended, and I don’t think I’ll manage to keep it up in future posts! ))

In the Physiotherapy Department of the hospital, one Dr. Berwald Oxtensernia had been hard at work as usual tending to various patients’ needs. Today for example, there was an elder who was being treated after taking a spill, a child who was recovering from a corrective foot surgery, and pain management for a person with chronic illness amongst others.

After slowly working with each of them and giving their respective treatments, there was finally time for a break in Berwald’s schedule. Not that Berwald didn’t enjoy his work-he really did like helping people- but it was just nice to have a chance to get a fresh breath of air outside or grab a cup of coffee from either the cafeteria or the staff room.

When Berwald turned a corner in the hallway on the way to the elevator however, the tall man was in for an unusual sight: A person. A person who was probably a patient. A patient who apparently had fallen from his wheelchair. A patient who was on the floor and had what looked to be very roughly shredded and hacked medical dressings around him.

‘…That break is DEFINITELY going to have to wait…’ went through the mind of the hospital’s giant of a physical therapist.

Although the stoic countenance, as always, remained on his face, Berwald couldn’t help but say out loud:

“Wh’t th’--?”

((Sorry this reply took so long-time got away from me ^^; ))

Ivan barely found the strength in him to push himself into a sitting position. But, being the strong Russian he was, he did manage to flip himself onto his back with ease and minimal pain. Ivan heard someone in the corridor and figured that he was busted... Not that it would have been any other way, Ivan was practically (No, literally) immobalised at the moment, and his only hope of getting back into his wheelchair was with someone's help. Perhaps this someone would be nice enough to help him and not tell him off. After all, he'd be getting that from Doctor Kiku and everyone else who didn't like him.

When the man spoke, Ivan looked up at him and opened his mouth to speak. "Uh..." A good start. Now to think of something to say. "Uhh... I demand you help me up..." It was not easy speaking in the position he was in. He was half sitting, half lying, and his stomach was being pressed against the wheel on his wheelchair, which made breathing difficult. Coupled with his broken ribs and he might as well give up on oxygen. He twisted awkwardly and managed to prop himself up on the wall. Once he did that, he felt dizzy and the man in front of him blurred when he went momentarily cross-eyed.

"I am... Patient, da? And I am in need of assistance, da? And also, everything that is happening is not my fault, I swear." He blamed his doctors, it was easier. "Also I am thinking I am about to cough up my lungs." They hurt and were not as protected as they should be with his damaged ribcage. He wanted to cough so badly, but it would hurt his lungs so badly. Instead he held in any coughing and looked up at the man- doctor? Nurse? What? - expectantly.

While Berwald had never liked being ordered to do things; from the therapist’s experience, he knew that patients will sometimes tend to forget manners and could get shorter tempers when in pain and upset and couldn’t help it, so he decided to give the man on the floor the benefit of the doubt.

“St’ll would’ve b’en n’ce if y’ said ‘Please’ f’rst.” the Swede said more to himself than anything else before kneeling down to help the large Russian man.

Berwald moved the wheelchair aside to have better access to the fallen patient and then tried to help the man into a more stable position with as little pain as possible in the process. A difficult task to do since Berwald didn’t know exactly where the other man was hurt or to what extent. “Sitt’n upr’ght should h’lp y’ bre’the a lil’ easi’r.” Berwald said steadying the other man the best he could against the corridor wall. “Try t’ bre’the sl’wly and t’ke de’p bre’ths.”

“Ev’rything th’t h’ppen’d ‘s not yer fault?” Berwald repeated back. So how did this large patient come to be out of his wheelchair and apparently have his medical dressings undone?

“M’nd tellin’ me wh’t h’ppen’d t’ ya then?” Berwald asked.

Ivan followed his instructions reluctantly, straightening out his back with a small wince and taking a deep relieved breath. "It is not my fault! I do not know what had happened! There was a... Sharp object involved." Ivan nodded, assuredly. He raised a hand and pushed his fringe up, showing the man the bandage wrapped around his head. "I had big accident, I am not very good at remembering what happened. I have had many incidents involving my bad memory," He explained.

Naturally, he was lying. It was true that he had memory problems and incidents caused by these memory problems, but Ivan remembered exactly why he was currently sitting on the floor with his broken leg exposed and bandage-less. No harm in a little white lie though, right? That's what Berwald thought. "If it helps, my Doctor is that one which is sort of small! Da! And is foreign too!" What a useful description. He hoped the man found it useful.

"Ah... Did you tell me your name?" This time, Ivan honestly could not remember. "And... Did I tell you mine?" Again, Ivan could not recall giving this man his name, or recieving one. Best to clarify now.

(( Sorry for the long-overdue reply! And so short too! ))

“Hn.” Berwald mumbled in response to the other man’s explanation; his face stoic and hard to read as usual. Berwald took the fringe of the other man with one hand and moved it back a little more, so he could get a better look at the injury. A sharp object was involved—that was rather obvious given the hacked materials on the ground—but seeing that he had memory problem from that preexisting head injury it would hard to figure out what happened more recently. Oh well, he’d just figure it out later after he saw to this patient’s needs first. “Anythin’ else hurts?” Berwald asked.

A small foreign doctor? ‘Let’s see…who could that be…?’ Berwald wondered. Truthfully, that description was rather vague to try identifying which doctor that was. Locating this man’s doctor might take a while…One problem with that description was: To Berwald—with only a few exceptions—almost everyone was “small” to him (and this patient seemed he would probably have the same type of perspective). Another problem was: Recently there was a flood of immigrants coming to Axis Memorial Hospital, doctors and patients alike, so there were a lot of foreigners around. “M’ght need m’re inf’rm’tion tah find ‘m.” Berwald said.


"Ah... Did you tell me your name? And... Did I tell you mine?"

“Nej.” Berwald responded as he shook his head. They never had the chance for introductions yet. “I’m Dr. Berwald Oxenstierna. Phys’cal ther’pist. Y’can call m’ Berwald.” Physical therapists try to make their patients feel more comfortable using a first name basis. Hopefully, it would work here as well. “Wh’t’s y’r name?”

((That's okay! Welcome back ^_^))

"My ribs..." Ivan was sure he'd re-shattered them. Well, no, he was sure he'd prolonged their healing time. "They are the reason breathing is difficult." What a pity. It seemed that by trying to cheat his way through getting out of the hospital quicker, he'd extended his stay. Though at the moment, he didn't think he was caring as much as he should, and right now, his wheelchair seemed very welcoming. Ivan was tired of sitting on the floor, it was probably one of the dirtiest places in the hospital. He didn't mind the dirt, but it meant that he could always make a fuss of it, if he found it necessary.

"My doctor..." Ivan thought of how to expand. "He is one of those ones who have eyes like this." He put his fingers in the corners of his eyes and pulled the skin back, making his eyes appear thinner and more slanted. He only held it for a second, though; it made his headache worse, so he dropped his hands. "Is that useful?"

A smile wondered onto Ivan's face as the doctor introduced himself. "Oh, is that what the sign said? Physical Therapy? I thought it said Physics, like gravity and stuff like that." It made sense at the time, but looking back, Ivan supposed that it was a hospital, and having things to do with 'Gravity and stuff like that' in a hospital didn't make any sense at all. "Me? I suppose I should tell you, but if you didn't know who I was it would be more fun, da? I like fun." Then after a moment's hesitation, "I am Ivan Braginski. You can call me Braginski." He offered a hand politely.

“Hn.” Berwald nodded in acknowledgement as he took the Russian man’s hand and shook it.

‘Alright Braginski’s doctor has narrow slanted eyes.’ Berwald thought. ‘There’s Huynh but she’s in pediatrics, Lee is a dermatologist so probably not him either, Lum is a gynecologist so DEFINITELY not her! Who else could it be?…there’s that cardiologist who also does general internist work-so it could possibly be’ “Yer doctor’s Honda, maybe?” the last part of the thought process being said aloud.

In the meantime, the best course of immediate action would probably be to get Braginski to one of the orthopedists to check on the ribs and set the leg again.

Berwald stopped a nurse passing by-telling her he needed someone to spot as he put Braginski back in his wheelchair-as a precaution than anything else. Whether or not she had been attending to other matters it seemed to be put aside as the nurse steadied the wheelchair too nervous to argue with him.
As bad as it was he intimidated a coworker (again) ‘I really have to work on that whole “Making people not feel uncomfortable around me” thing’ the guilty afterthought entering Berwald’s mind. Berwald had to focus on the more pressing issue and get this patient some care.

“N'w then” Berwald said “G’nna have t’ get ya t’ th’ treatment rooms, so I’ll h’ve ta l’ft ya up b’ck in th’ chair in ord'r t’get th’re.” he explained “Alr'ght?”

((I forgot to post a hiatus notice but I'm back now-I'm SO sorry for being late orz))