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wraithbaitjohn.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomtownies2005-11-20 08:47 am
wraithbaitjohn.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomtownies2005-11-20 08:47 am
Mainland Hospital Sunday, late morning
When Shep cracks his eyes open, something about the angle of the sunlight coming through the window tells him that it's late morning.
The muted pain in his arm and hand tell him that he's in the hospital. He has a few vague memories of Dr. Wilson handing him over to the paramedics and the paramedics handing him over to the e.r. docs. Then a bunch of questions about his allergies and medical history - which got damn tricky given his current situation and people not having certain levels of clearance and the amount of drugs in his system and the amount of blood out of his system. He hoped he didn't say anything too stupid. Then someone was telling him to count backwards from ten... then he was... here...
"The sword fight... right. Damn."
He rolls his head to see his hand being held up in some contraption that probably would have fit in at that mid-evil faire. There's a brace that goes from his fingers to the middle of his arm. He supposes it could be worse, it could be a plaster cast. His fingers are kind of discolored and puffy.
There's an IV in his other elbow. Shep rolls his eyes. He's gonna have to pee every two hours like clockwork with this stupid thing in.
His brain is fuzzy. He suspects that has something to do with the PCM machine hanging on his IV poll.
"Drugs good," he mutters.
He wants to go back to sleep, but suspects he's slept-out for a while. So now he's just bored.
[ooc: Anyone who wants to (and gets permission from the Dean if they need it) feel free to drop by and visit. Once someone brings Shep his laptop he'll turn on his email and instant message programs.:)]
The muted pain in his arm and hand tell him that he's in the hospital. He has a few vague memories of Dr. Wilson handing him over to the paramedics and the paramedics handing him over to the e.r. docs. Then a bunch of questions about his allergies and medical history - which got damn tricky given his current situation and people not having certain levels of clearance and the amount of drugs in his system and the amount of blood out of his system. He hoped he didn't say anything too stupid. Then someone was telling him to count backwards from ten... then he was... here...
"The sword fight... right. Damn."
He rolls his head to see his hand being held up in some contraption that probably would have fit in at that mid-evil faire. There's a brace that goes from his fingers to the middle of his arm. He supposes it could be worse, it could be a plaster cast. His fingers are kind of discolored and puffy.
There's an IV in his other elbow. Shep rolls his eyes. He's gonna have to pee every two hours like clockwork with this stupid thing in.
His brain is fuzzy. He suspects that has something to do with the PCM machine hanging on his IV poll.
"Drugs good," he mutters.
He wants to go back to sleep, but suspects he's slept-out for a while. So now he's just bored.
[ooc: Anyone who wants to (and gets permission from the Dean if they need it) feel free to drop by and visit. Once someone brings Shep his laptop he'll turn on his email and instant message programs.:)]
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