M (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
savethedarkness) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2013-03-28 09:27 pm
savethedarkness) wrote in paradisalogs2013-03-28 09:27 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: M and Carson
What: Getting a clean bill of health
When: Thursday afternoon
Where: The clinic!
Rating: PG for M's smart mouth
M had been in the clinic for about two weeks' time, at this point... long enough for the worst of her wounds to have healed, and enough for her to start getting antsy. She'd been wandering farther and farther out, glad for the chance to stretch her legs, but enough was beginning to be enough. She knew there was much more to see, and a room out there somewhere with, quite literally, her name on it, and a more comfortable bed, and clothes that weren't scrubs, robes, and generic pyjamas.
Honestly, it was the thought of real clothes that was tempting her the most. She missed having that particular avenue of expression available to her. It was difficult for an older woman to look competent and intelligent when wandering around in a bathrobe and slippers like a dementia patient.
So this morning found her sitting in a chair near one window of the clinic, alternating between looking out at the landscape, pondering the mural of Eden, and flipping through the pages of a book she'd wished for while she waited for her assigned physician - and one of her oldest castle acquaintances, at that - to come and take stock of her situation.
What: Getting a clean bill of health
When: Thursday afternoon
Where: The clinic!
Rating: PG for M's smart mouth
M had been in the clinic for about two weeks' time, at this point... long enough for the worst of her wounds to have healed, and enough for her to start getting antsy. She'd been wandering farther and farther out, glad for the chance to stretch her legs, but enough was beginning to be enough. She knew there was much more to see, and a room out there somewhere with, quite literally, her name on it, and a more comfortable bed, and clothes that weren't scrubs, robes, and generic pyjamas.
Honestly, it was the thought of real clothes that was tempting her the most. She missed having that particular avenue of expression available to her. It was difficult for an older woman to look competent and intelligent when wandering around in a bathrobe and slippers like a dementia patient.
So this morning found her sitting in a chair near one window of the clinic, alternating between looking out at the landscape, pondering the mural of Eden, and flipping through the pages of a book she'd wished for while she waited for her assigned physician - and one of her oldest castle acquaintances, at that - to come and take stock of her situation.