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Eishia is not a good doctor.
Her brother and grandmother would argue with her about it, especially her brother. August would often get upset about how she talked about herself, walking out and locking himself in his sewing room, suspiciously quiet.
But Eishia knew the truth.
She reorganizes her medicinal cabinet carefully, checking through her lists and ensuring that everything is in order. She is down two bags of fluids; hopefully, her supplier has more.
Healing in the ground is an improv art many times. Gaining medical supplies is no easy feat. Certain places are manufacturing their own, but there is only so much to be done with their level of technology, running on the hope that a Spherite discards something of use. It's why her Giver powers are so sought after. Why she does her best to help anyone in need, civilian or Cleaner. If she stops for a moment, someone could die of something so simple, so easily avoidable, if only they had the proper equipment to do so.
She leans on the counter, breath heavy as she finishes her checks.
Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she dabbed it away quickly.
A soft knocking on the infirmary door distracted her from starting her request, and she turned.
Amo stands at the threshold, figiditing with her hands. She looks like she would rather be anywhere else, which makes sense.
Eishia grips the hem of her dress, clearing her throat. "Do you uh, need something?" She asks softly, already gathering her instruments to take Amo's vitals.
The girl hunches in on herself, eyes refusing to meet Eishia's. "Amo is… hurting again. Amo needs some more medicine."
Ah, that again. Eishia gestures to the nearest cot as Amo sits down, twisting to her side. Eishia pulls out the painkillers, settling them on the table as she places the oximeter on Amo's finger. Her pulse is quick, but her oxygen levels are fine. A simple check finds her blood pressure a little raised, and Eishia ducks her head. The girl is nervous still, hesitant to trust her. If she did see doctors before this, Eishia can't imagine it was a pleasant experience.
"Is the pain the same as before?" Eishia asks, measuring out the pills. She pours a small cup of water, handing it over.
Amo nods. "It goes down Amo's legs as well. And up in her back." The girl winces again, and Eishia wrings out her hands, curling around a familiar cord.
Type: Heal was created to mend traumatic injuries; there's nothing it can do against chronic illnesses. A few weeks ago, Amo had come to her with pain in her hips. It was supposed to be a simple fix, lessening the scar tissues that Eishia wished she had never seen. But it kept coming back. Flair-ups of the nerves she couldn't explain, pain that Heal couldn't fix.
Eishia is not a good doctor.
"Have the warm compresses helped any?"
Amo shrugged her shoulders. "A little," she confessed, and winced again. She turns to the pillow on the cot, hands gripping at the joint of her thighs. Eishia pulls out the heating pad, plugging it in and offering it up quietly. Amo fiddles with it, drawing her knees to her chest.
She's seen all her patients at their lowest. It comes with the job description. Doctors have to be there for everyone. She's the Cleaner's only Giver healer, possibly the only one on the Ground. She has seen injuries that would end in death for most. Bones shattered, limbs torn. She's sewn life back into those on the verge of death, but things like this—chronic illnesses from lifetimes of trauma—it's something she can't stomach.
Eishia is not a good doctor.
"Thank you," Amo murmurs, holding the heating pad as she draws the cot's sheets over her. Hiding from everyone, a thin linen shield between her and the rest of the world.
It makes nausea build in Eishia's throat to think about. She pushes it aside. "Um, I need to get some paperwork done, stay as long as you need, okay? Let me know if you need anything else." She turns back to her desk, desperate to escape this conversation. One that she has no idea how to navigate. A fracture would be easier, even a degloving preferable. Something that she can fix. Something that she can heal.
She can't fix this. She can't do anything but sit and watch as her fellow Cleaner suffers, a meager painkiller her only solution.
She sits at her desk and finishes her incident reports for Corvus, folding up her supply request to send out, breathing and twisting Heal's cord around her fingers.
Amo whimpers in the other room. Her face drawn tight, curling around herself. Eishia offers up another dose of painkillers. With permission, she reaches in with Heal, searching desperately for a physical attribute to the pain. There's nothing. No injury, no scar tissue, only nerves flaring when they shouldn't. She reduces the irritation around the muscles as much as she can, but it will only do so much.
She pulls back, watching as the painkillers finally seem to do the trick and Amo uncurls from her ball.
A small sigh comes from Amo's lips, her face a pained smile. "Amo is grateful to have a doctor like you. She never had anyone… before."
"It's nothing, really," Eishia splutters quickly. "I should probably refer you to my grandmother. She might be able to help you treat this better. I'm not much good at this."
Amo tilts her head. "Amo thinks you are a very good doctor. The pain is lessening now, isn't that what you were trying to do?"
The poor girl. Eishia wrings her hands. So neglected that even Eishia's skills seem incredible to her. Something gnaws at her chest at that, something Eishia isn't sure to name.
"Um, I think—if you want, I mean—it would be good to take the day off. I can call the boss if you'd like?"
"Ah! Amo can do that. Amo will probably go back to her room. Can she take the heating pad?"
Unplugging it, Eishia hands it to her with a nod. "Of course, just um, let me know if your symptoms change or worsen."
Amo smiles brightly. "See? You are a very good doctor." Her hand squeezes Eishia's shoulder before she leaves, walking out of the infirmary and leaving the other girl shocked still at the contact.
Eishia breathes through her nose, turning back and removing the sheets from the cot to be changed. She tries not to think about those words, the faith Amo puts in her, that the Cleaners put in her. It's misguided pity at best, false hope at most.
She can't fix everything; she can't heal everyone. She can only do so much, but it will never be enough. There is nothing she can do for people like Amo, whose issues lie deeper than what she can mend. And she doesn't know how to fix that.
Eishia is not a good doctor.