July 15 - Day at the Clinic

[pompey_01]

Title: Day At the Clinic

Author: Pompey

Universe: BBC Sherlock

Rating: PG

Warnings: medical ickiness

Word count: 400

Summary: Set during the Hiatus. Just another day at the clinic. Heaven help John.

Prompt: July 15 – coals

A/N: I miiiiiiiiiight be drawing rather heavily on personal experience. It’s . . . . been a week.

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“Just FYI, our orders aren’t going through to Diagnostics,” warned Dr. Hutchinson as John walked into the clinic. “Again.”

_____

“I don’t see your lab results here,” John told his patient apologetically as he flipped through electronic documents.

“Labs?”

John paused. “Yes, your kidney function labs. Did you not have them done?”

“Was I supposed to?”

John slowly exhaled. “Well, your appointment today is to review your kidney function so it would be helpful to have those results. So I could know what your kidney function is.”

 “Well, nobody told me!”

John slowly inhaled and exhaled. “It looks like we tried to call you three times.”

“Oh, I never answer calls from numbers I don’t recognize.”

_____

A phone note in his task box: Mr. Leonard called to report sudden onset change of vision, describes vision as “static-y”. Patient reports occasional palpitations, occasional diaphoresis. He denies any pain, denies “curtain” over his vision. He does not know his blood sugar; he cannot see to test. Patient was advised multiple times to go to A&E. He refused and also refused ambulance services. Please advise.

_____

 

“The hematology analyzer’s gone down,” reported Dr. Hutchinson. “Again.”

______

 

“Mrs. Starr’s family changed their mind. They don’t want her admitted to a rest home just yet.”

Deliberately John put down his pen, folded up the five-page form he had just finished completing, and placed it into the shred bin.

_______

 

John observed the detritus left over after the bladder irrigation: the strewn-about kit; the multiple absorbent pads; the litre of dark red blood, urine, and water mixed; the bottom of the sink completely obscured by blood clots so dark a red they looked like tiny, glowing coals.

Quietly, he notified a nurse passing in the hallway of what she would find when she went in to wipe down the room. Then he went into his office and shut the door.

John focused on controlling his breathing but he was so hot under the collar he half expected to exhale smoke. He could feel his resentment burning in his chest like a live coal, hot and hard. Resentment at the stupidity and entitlement, resentment at the wasted time and energy, resentment at the inconveniences that made his work that much harder.

It was funny. He didn’t remember resenting Sherlock’s keeping toes in the fridge or using up the milk or hogging his laptop nearly as much.