As The Wind Blows
"You've got a lot of weight, don't you?" He asked, eyes coated in the darkness veiled around them. The objects, though mere trinkets, were hefty in worth to my professional eye. I paid no mind to his question, only giving him the slightest of nods, and offered him a sack of crystals. "You will take the lot of it, good sir?" He asked, a twinkle bursting forth from the corners of what was dim.
A doll was what I wanted to make. All I needed was some spools of thread, some cloth, yarn, and a few bushels of a calming leaf for a lift in spirit. The old man from earlier thought me strange, buying nothing but little oddities here and there, but he was oblivious to what I had encountered much earlier on in the day.
-----------
Vers wasn't as I recalled it, I felt far more at ease than I had thought I would be, a relief as you might expect, but, as the day wore on, I knew something wasn't quite right. A small child, no older than eight, was shuffling around the huts, carrying cloths and buckets, obviously in a hurry to get something done. For a short while, I let my thoughts dwindle from his scurrying, and focused on finding the trading hub while my group went to book us a room for the night. But, just as I found what I had been looking for, I felt a small hand upon my back. There, the child in question, stood, his eyes filled with fear. Naturally, I followed him into a nearby hut.
To say I wasn't prepared for what I was greeted with would be an understatement. A young girl, no older than 17, was laying on top of a makeshift bed, her hands gripping the sides of it with all of her being. Her eyes darted towards me and appeared relieved, and motioned the young boy into the other room.
"Mister..." She heaved, her eyes heavy with tears. "Healer are... You?"
I could feel my heart twist around as she spoke, my instincts taking over. I raced to her side and unloaded my satchels onto the floor. My hands reached up for her forehead while I gathered what I would need, and gently stroked her sweat laden hair. She was feverish, complaining of intense stomach pain, and dizziness, common symptoms of things such as dehydration or poor diet, but I felt there was so much more to the story than what her body would tell me.
For the most part, she was a good patient. She ate what I told her to, drank when I said she should, and spoke to me as calmly as possible. But as it often goes in my life, all good things must come to an end. An elderly woman burst through the door as I fussed over my patient, sending her into a screaming fit. I retreated to the back corner of the room, both to observe and simply to recompose myself while they argued.
"What is this? Yet another secret?" The old crone bellowed.
"Leave me be, grandmother! I am only ill!" My patient replied.
"Perhaps you should think about keeping your legs crossed, then you wouldn't need to be ill!" Her grandmother screamed.
The final piece of the puzzle, for me, that is, had been uncovered with that exclamation. This was no case of poor food or dehydration, it was something far more complex, and terrifying to say the least. I ushered the grandmother away from my patient's side and bent down to examine her belly. I had witnessed several pregnancies in Mez, and to my dismay, my young patient fit all of the categories of what was termed as a 'bad pregnancy." Something was causing this young girl to miscarry, and it wasn't going to end well, unless I figured out what was causing the problem to begin with.
"Is there anything you haven't told me?" I asked, taking my patient's hand. She remained silent, her face turned away from me. I increased my grip. "If you don't tell me, you could die, because I don't know how to stop this without more information."
Her face recoiled as I persisted and, eventually, a scream flew out from her mouth, her back arching upwards. Tears formed in my eyes as I raced to the bottom of the bed, knowing full well in my heart that I may not be able to save both, or either, of their lives.
-----------
I admired my handiwork after dinner had been served. It was a ragged little thing, stitched together with as much haste as love and care, but it would be just about good enough. The crisp night air blew the hood of my cloak off my shoulders as I stepped outside, and I allowed myself a few moments to catch my breath, before heading across to the hut where I had been earlier that morning.
There, surrounded by her family, cradling a small, but active little bundle, was my patient. Her younger brother, parents, and grandparents smiled at me as I presented to doll to the already rambunctious daughter that my patient now held close to her heart. The relief on my face was obvious as I observed them, my heart set at ease. All I had needed to do, it seemed, was deliver the baby, and give the mother some medicines and nutrients to keep her from fainting. Her fever and dizziness were her body's way of dealing with the stress of the pushing and pressure of labor. But, what really got to me the most about all of it was that If I hadn't faced my fears about coming back to Vers, my patient and her unborn daughter would have died in that room all by themselves. That would have been nothing short of a tragedy.
-----------
All in all, what I can take away from this, and from a lot of other things that have happened in my life is that no matter where I go, no matter where I turn, there will always be a path, which leads to a hurtle, which leads to an outcome. It is up to me whether or not the resulting outcome is positive or negative. And, boy, am I glad that I made sure that this hurtle's outcome was positive, instead of negative!
Word count: 1066
"You've got a lot of weight, don't you?" He asked, eyes coated in the darkness veiled around them. The objects, though mere trinkets, were hefty in worth to my professional eye. I paid no mind to his question, only giving him the slightest of nods, and offered him a sack of crystals. "You will take the lot of it, good sir?" He asked, a twinkle bursting forth from the corners of what was dim.
A doll was what I wanted to make. All I needed was some spools of thread, some cloth, yarn, and a few bushels of a calming leaf for a lift in spirit. The old man from earlier thought me strange, buying nothing but little oddities here and there, but he was oblivious to what I had encountered much earlier on in the day.
-----------
Vers wasn't as I recalled it, I felt far more at ease than I had thought I would be, a relief as you might expect, but, as the day wore on, I knew something wasn't quite right. A small child, no older than eight, was shuffling around the huts, carrying cloths and buckets, obviously in a hurry to get something done. For a short while, I let my thoughts dwindle from his scurrying, and focused on finding the trading hub while my group went to book us a room for the night. But, just as I found what I had been looking for, I felt a small hand upon my back. There, the child in question, stood, his eyes filled with fear. Naturally, I followed him into a nearby hut.
To say I wasn't prepared for what I was greeted with would be an understatement. A young girl, no older than 17, was laying on top of a makeshift bed, her hands gripping the sides of it with all of her being. Her eyes darted towards me and appeared relieved, and motioned the young boy into the other room.
"Mister..." She heaved, her eyes heavy with tears. "Healer are... You?"
I could feel my heart twist around as she spoke, my instincts taking over. I raced to her side and unloaded my satchels onto the floor. My hands reached up for her forehead while I gathered what I would need, and gently stroked her sweat laden hair. She was feverish, complaining of intense stomach pain, and dizziness, common symptoms of things such as dehydration or poor diet, but I felt there was so much more to the story than what her body would tell me.
For the most part, she was a good patient. She ate what I told her to, drank when I said she should, and spoke to me as calmly as possible. But as it often goes in my life, all good things must come to an end. An elderly woman burst through the door as I fussed over my patient, sending her into a screaming fit. I retreated to the back corner of the room, both to observe and simply to recompose myself while they argued.
"What is this? Yet another secret?" The old crone bellowed.
"Leave me be, grandmother! I am only ill!" My patient replied.
"Perhaps you should think about keeping your legs crossed, then you wouldn't need to be ill!" Her grandmother screamed.
The final piece of the puzzle, for me, that is, had been uncovered with that exclamation. This was no case of poor food or dehydration, it was something far more complex, and terrifying to say the least. I ushered the grandmother away from my patient's side and bent down to examine her belly. I had witnessed several pregnancies in Mez, and to my dismay, my young patient fit all of the categories of what was termed as a 'bad pregnancy." Something was causing this young girl to miscarry, and it wasn't going to end well, unless I figured out what was causing the problem to begin with.
"Is there anything you haven't told me?" I asked, taking my patient's hand. She remained silent, her face turned away from me. I increased my grip. "If you don't tell me, you could die, because I don't know how to stop this without more information."
Her face recoiled as I persisted and, eventually, a scream flew out from her mouth, her back arching upwards. Tears formed in my eyes as I raced to the bottom of the bed, knowing full well in my heart that I may not be able to save both, or either, of their lives.
-----------
I admired my handiwork after dinner had been served. It was a ragged little thing, stitched together with as much haste as love and care, but it would be just about good enough. The crisp night air blew the hood of my cloak off my shoulders as I stepped outside, and I allowed myself a few moments to catch my breath, before heading across to the hut where I had been earlier that morning.
There, surrounded by her family, cradling a small, but active little bundle, was my patient. Her younger brother, parents, and grandparents smiled at me as I presented to doll to the already rambunctious daughter that my patient now held close to her heart. The relief on my face was obvious as I observed them, my heart set at ease. All I had needed to do, it seemed, was deliver the baby, and give the mother some medicines and nutrients to keep her from fainting. Her fever and dizziness were her body's way of dealing with the stress of the pushing and pressure of labor. But, what really got to me the most about all of it was that If I hadn't faced my fears about coming back to Vers, my patient and her unborn daughter would have died in that room all by themselves. That would have been nothing short of a tragedy.
-----------
All in all, what I can take away from this, and from a lot of other things that have happened in my life is that no matter where I go, no matter where I turn, there will always be a path, which leads to a hurtle, which leads to an outcome. It is up to me whether or not the resulting outcome is positive or negative. And, boy, am I glad that I made sure that this hurtle's outcome was positive, instead of negative!
Word count: 1066
