Chapter Text
“Oh come on!” the man says again. “It’ll be quick, look, it’s not a big issue and I have to get to work, I can’t postpone that meeting, you understand?”
“I’m sorry Mr. White but there are other patients that feel just the same, that have been waiting for just as long or longer. We are doing our utmost so that a doctor can have a look at your leg as soon as possible.”
Privately, Geralt can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, if it’s ‘not a big issue’, the guy should have thought about not bothering the people at the ER with it because everyone could be having a much better day that way.
“But that’s simply not true! They took that man to see a doctor as soon as he arrived, I saw it! And I’ve been waiting for hours! How comes you take his issues more seriously, hm?”
Geralt exhales. Slowly. He inhales.
“I’m sorry the circumstances make you feel that we are not taking your issue seriously. I assure you, we are. But this is an emergency department and sometimes, big emergencies happen and patients need immediate care so we have to make other people wait. I’m sorry but as I said, we are doing our best.”
He doesn’t give him a chance to answer as he closes the door that separates the waiting area from the actual workspace. Geralt sighs. It’s nine in the morning and for some reason the waiting room is already packed with annoyed, aggressive people and on top of it, within the last hour, three real emergencies have come in in short succession without giving them a minute to breathe. It seems that minute is about to be postponed even further because Triss, the doctor in charge of the department, is approaching him with hasty steps.
“Ah, Geralt, wonderful. Mr. Wells has decided to take a little stroll; I need a hand to get him back onto the gurney. He also, somehow, has shit all over himself. Room 3, I’m sorry.”
Geralt huffs unhappily and follows Triss to room 3. Poor Mr. Wells is not at fault here. He has a broken hip which he has likely forgotten about due to his severe dementia and the pain killers doing their job. Probably he had gotten up in search of a toilet, unaware that he is not able to walk currently and unaware also, that he is at a hospital and not at home with his long deceased sweetheart Eleanor.
“Eleanor?” he calls out hopefully, no sooner that they enter the room.
This is one of the worst parts of his job, Geralt thinks. It’s just too fucking sad.
“Yes, yes, exactly.” says Triss.
“Eleanor!”
“We’ve got a bit of a mess here, don’t we? Come on, William, let’s get you back to bed.”
Triss addresses the patient using his first name, gently. Geralt isn’t sure if this was part of her training at some point or if she’s just a natural with the dement ones. He has seen other, older doctors act a lot less competent around elderly patients. Well, maybe that’s one reason why Triss is head of the department at her relatively young age. Together, they manage to get the old man back onto the gurney though Geralt is forced to snatch the patients wrists in a firm grip to keep him from angrily lashing out at Triss when she helps getting his broken hip situated.
“Thank you, Geralt” she says, before she very briefly wrinkles her nose in an uncannily unprofessional way. “And sorry for leaving you with this to clean up but I have to get to my patient in room 5.
“Don’t worry”, he waves her off.
Between washing the worst (meaning the excrements) off the old man who is still calling out for Eleanor, putting a cast on the arm of one very hyperactive 10-year-old and trying to talk sense into a patient that wants to leave the emergency room despite likely suffering from a dangerous acute coronary syndrome at that very moment, the angry masses in the waiting area keep Geralt on his feet.
He barely notices how lunchtime approaches and goes past until Rachel (one of his favourite colleagues) strolls past, munching on a cereal bar. Sweat is pearling on her skin but otherwise she looks as put together as always, black hair slicked back in a neat bun. She is heading for the hospitals front entrance area.
“Hey, Rachel, that’s the wrong direction for lunch” Geralt says.
“Have to pick up the new interns for the upcoming rotation”.
Geralt frowns. But before he can complain about the doctors letting the nurses do their work, Rachel continues: “Triss wanted to go pick them up herself but she is busy with the Polytrauma in number 1.” She waves and is on her way.
Why the hell are the new doctors coming at lunchtime anyways? Shouldn’t they have been there in the morning? Then Geralt realises that Triss has probably asked them to come a bit later when she realised what hell would break loose in the ER this morning, faced with the overcrowded waiting area. She is kind like that. And they would just have stood in the way anyways.
Geralt has heard talk that one of them is barely in his second year, something with the rotation schedules in internal medicine having gone sideways. Poor guy. Not that the others would be much better off. ER tends to be a shock for all of them at first, as eager as they are when arriving.
Well, that is decidedly a problem for later and also, strictly speaking, not his problem at all. For now, if Rachel is babysitting the Rookies and Hannah is probably busy with Triss in room 1, that means there are far too many patients for Geralt to attend to. He sighs (today is a day for sighing) and basically inhales two cereal bars before making his way back down the corridor.
Still chewing, he enters room 3 again.
“Hello William”, he says. “What do you say we get this gurney of yours out in the hallway, hm?”
Three other gurneys are lining up there, all patients waiting to be taken down the hallway for an X-ray.
“Who of you came here last?” Geralt asks.
The young woman sitting on the third gurney reluctantly waves at him. “That would be me. Why?”
“I’m sorry to ask this of you”, Geralt says. “But it’s unusually busy and we’re very short on staff today. This one here”- he gestures down at Mr. Wells - ”cannot remember that he is injured and will likely try to get up again at some point. Could you press this button next to you on the wall to call me if he moves to stand up? And maybe try talking to him until I’m there?”
The woman looks a little taken aback but still nods.
”Thank you a lot, really!” Geralt says and then rushes onwards. He loves his job, especially in contrast to what he did before but also in general. He really loves his job. It’s just difficult to remember at times.
* * *
It’s getting more and more difficult to remember when Geralt tries to change out of his scrub shirt without getting his hair in contact with the vomit he is basically drenched in. To make matters worse, he is standing in front of the staff room in the middle of the fucking hallway of the staff section.
Because the bathroom is occupied and Alex, the paediatrician who happened to be inside the supplies room as Geralt entered it had taken one look at him and had immediately ushered him out.
“That looks so freakin’ contagious I don’t even wanna know. Clothes bin in the hallway, that’s not going inside here.”
Geralt can really see his point, sadly, and at least Alex is friendly enough to get him a shirt his size and put it on the table next to the wash basin in the hallway. Of course, of fucking course, this is the moment he hears Triss down the hall, his head still stuck in the shirt as she says:
“Also, you haven’t met our paediatrician, Alex, maybe he’s in the staff room, I think I just saw how he… oh, Geralt, well that’s certainly one way to greet our new colleagues!”
Geralt can feel the heat rise to his face as he finally rips the shirt over his head. He is met with four pairs of eyes that stare at his bare chest a little impolitely. Triss (with a sly grin on her face) and behind her a tiny blond woman with a freckled nose (yes, internal medicine; that would be her), a lanky, dark haired man (absolute douchebag – not to judge on a first impression but … well) and … a man with the prettiest eyes Geralt has seen in his life. And he has been in a relationship with Yennefer so…
The man looks very young between the long lashes, the slightly dishevelled hair and the cute blush on his cheekbones. This can’t be one of the doctors. Maybe they’re filming some sort of Grey’s anatomy thing in the building and he just accidentally ended up here instead of where all his other gorgeous acting colleagues are. Geralt realises belatedly that he has been staring back a little too intensely and quickly turns to put the disgusting shirt in the bin.
“Hi, I’m Geralt. Nurse.” He feels how flushed his face must look and it does not make him happy.
“Sorry to stand in the hallway like this, bathroom’s occupied and I didn’t want to contaminate anything with… this” – he wrinkles his nose and nods in the direction of the bin.
Triss looks torn between leaving him to clean up in dignity and just introducing the new staff members now, despite the awkward situation. Pretty eyes makes the decision for her.
“Hi Geralt” he says and gods, that voice is just as beautiful as the rest. “I’m Julian Pankratz. But please call me Jaskier. I’m an intern in internal medicine, about to start my rotation here.”
Geralt tries to give him an encouraging smile and also tries his best to ignore the way the lovely man is still blushing, eyes flickering down to his chest and quickly away again.
“I’m Essi Daven, third year in orthopaedic surgery”, the blond one goes next, smiling.
Huh. So much for first impressions and prejudice and all.
“Valdo Marx, internal medicine” the third one snarls in a bored voice without so much as looking in Geralt’s direction.
Yeah no. Sometimes first impressions were exactly right.
“Well, nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll see each other around the next days.”
They nod and let Triss usher them towards the staff room with some words about letting Geralt get rid of the vomit in his hair in peace. He takes a look in the mirror. Oh no, for god’s sake.
* * *
Honestly, Geralt had been pretty sure the day couldn’t get any worse at this point. A dangerous thing to think. For a little while, it’s actually all fine. It’s only when he passes by the screen showing the waiting patients and their triage categories that he notices a name that has been there all day now.
Andrew White, leg pain, tick bite. That man is still waiting?! Now he does actually feel kind of sorry for him, even if he had been a pain in the ass all morning. Room 4 apparently is free at the moment. Geralt doesn’t find any doctor but resolves to do something he rarely does just get the man to room three. He’ll just fetch the first doctor he comes across and get them to spend a minute looking at that tick bite, prescribe some antibiotics and finally let the guy get on with his day.
When he opens the door to the waiting area though, he’s greeted by panic.
“Please a doctor, we need a doctor!”
Geralt tries to find the source of the woman’s distress.
“Doctor please, that man, he’s not well, I don’t know what’s wrong!”
“Not the doctor” Geralt grunts. “But let me through please.”
The group of worried people parts for him and there he is, Andrew White. He is very pale, clutching at his chest and his breathing is, mildly put, distressed. It only takes one look at him for Geralt to make a very painful realisation.
“Mr White, I’m gonna be back with a doctor immediately, ok? We’ve got you, you’re gonna be ok!”
He makes a run for the doctor’s office and barges in without knocking. Only the pretty, blue eyed Rookie is there, staring at him a little spooked.
“Where’s Triss?” Geralt asks.
“Went somewhere with Valdo and a geriatric patient who got out of control. ICU probably… or psychiatry.”
“Fuck”, Geralt says. “Any other doctor here?”
Jaskier shakes his head.
Fuck again.
“Thoracic pain and dyspnoea, probably pulmonary emboly in the waiting area, you come with me then.”
“Fucketifuckshit” Jaskier mutters while jumping to his feet.
Although the situation really isn’t funny at all, Geralt has to snort a little at that. They make a run for the waiting area, Geralt picking up a gurney and a body board on the way. Before they reach the door, he turns to Jaskier.
“Ever treated one?”
Jaskier shakes his head.
“Okay. You’ve got this, alright? What do we do first?”
Jaskier blinks at him. “Check his Wells score to see whether that’s the likeliest diagnosis, get him down the hall for a CT if we’re sure.”
Geralt continues walking, speaking in a low voice. “Great. Check his legs. He’s triaged tick bite but I’m guessing it’s lice and flees here.”
When they get to the patient it takes a moment for everyone to make space for them and the gurney.
“Mr..” Jaskier starts and Geralt realises he hasn’t mentioned his name.
“White” he says.
“Mr White, I’m Doctor Pankratz. We’ll get you on this gurney now, okay? You’ll be alright.”
The body board turns out to be unnecessary, together they manage to get the small man on the gurney quite easily. As soon as they are through the doors of room 3, Geralt gets him in a slightly better position and sorts out the oxygen support before fastening the monitoring.
“I’ll have a look at your legs briefly”, Jaskier says as he carefully moves the (thankfully) loose trousers up to the knees on both sides. As expected, the patient’s right leg is significantly bigger than the other one, a little blueish, the skin tight over his flesh. There also is an erythema migrans, to be fair.
“I’m calling radiology”, Jaskier says. “Let’s get him there”.
Wordlessly, Geralt prepares some morphine and puts it into Jaskier’s hand. “This is 2.5 mg” he says.
Jaskier’s eyes go wide and he nods twice. His hands are trembling, the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear still only beeping through the line. Geralt shakes his head at Jaskier’s hands and places an IV line in his stead. At least, Jaskier is steady enough to apply the medication.
Geralt speaks soothingly to their patient while they get moving, tries his best not to let his worry show. What on earth is wrong with this day. He’s got an absolute high risk patient in front of him and he’s with the single most inexperienced doctor of the ER
“Are you serious?!” Jaskier shrieks into the phone. He puts a halt to their run for the radiology department and looks at Geralt. “They just got someone into the scanner, suspecting stroke.”
Geralt groans internally. He tries his very very best to stay calm. “How are your echocardiography skills?” He’s not optimistic and therefore quite surprised when Jaskier nods.
“Where’s the device?”
They get their patient back to room 3 and Geralt gets the ultrasound device for Jaskier.
“I’m calling Triss” he informs Jaskier on the way back in.
She’s not picking up. Why is she not picking up?! Jaskier fiddles with the ultrasound and really doesn’t look too confident with what he is doing. Geralt calls Triss again.
“What is it?” her strained voice greets him the same moment that Jaskier says:
“There you are you little fucker!”
Geralt is briefly speechless until he realises Jaskier is looking at the ultrasound screen a little triumphantly and then to him, expectantly. On the screen of the machine, Geralt can make out something vaguely heart shaped (in the anatomical sense, obviously).
“That’s white noise to me, Jaskier, dammit, take a picture and save it!”
“Geralt?” Triss asks.
“Pulmonary emboly, room 3.” Geralt says. “Only Jaskier is here and the CT is blocked.
”Triss curses. “Coming. Be there in 2.”
When Triss arrives, the whole situation loses a lot of its scariness. She looks at the ultrasound pictures, at the monitoring screen and then immediately prepares the medication to get that – apparently enormous – Thrombus in check. They put Mr. White in a surveillance spot in the hallway and pull the curtains to protect his privacy as best as possible there.
“And another ICU bed, they’re not gonna be pleased”, Triss mumbles as they leave their patient. “Jaskier, that was great work. I’m sorry your first day had to go like this. I have to go back to the ICU briefly. But we will have a debrief of this situation tomorrow morning. Don’t forget he actually also needs antibiotics for his borreliosis. Okay?”
Jaskier nods shakily.
Then Geralt and Jaskier are alone in corridor. Before Geralt can process what’s happening, Jaskier is pressed to his chest, arms slung tightly around his body. Geralt is so perplexed that he merely raises a hand to pat at the man’s shoulders a little awkwardly. The body pressed against his is solid and warm, Jaskier’s head turned to the side, face resting against Geralt’s clavicle. From this close, Geralt can smell chamomile and wildflowers. Jaskier’s shampoo probably? It’s not an unpleasant smell at all.
“Thank you, Geralt!” Jaskier murmurs. He seems to realise the way he just randomly threw himself into the arms of his co-worker and extricates himself from the embrace, blushing. “Sorry, that was a bit… sorry. But just … thank you! You are amazing and that would have been an absolute nightmare without you in there.”
Geralt is not good with compliments or open appreciation. He shrugs.
“Just did my job.” That sounded a little gruff. Why does he never have the words when it’s not a patient he’s talking to? He clears his throat. “You okay? That was a lot for a first day here, I guess.”
“Yes, yeah, no, it’s fine.” Jaskier stammers and blushes even worse. “Just the adrenalin. Gonna go sit down for a minute, I think.” He waves a bit funnily and turns to enter the doctors’ office. “I’m not here if there’s another major crisis in the next five minutes, okay?” he says.
Geralt smiles a little when the door shuts behind the other man.