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O'Hara stopped and looked down at Althea incredulously. "Worry? Darling, my job is to help people get better, and I can't do that if you can't tell me what's wrong. Pardon my forwardness, but you're paying for this, aren't you? Where does it hurt?"
Althea swallowed, her throat felt like sandpaper.
"right below my jaw" she whispered quietly, casting her eyes downwards to her hands, which were resting on top of the sheet she was covered with.
"My insurance is paying for most of it though" she added, almost as a second thought.
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O'Hara hummed the affirmative. "Most people's do," she remarked, though she frowned at Althea's description. "You were struck in the forehead with a glass wine bottle that shattered on impact. Do you have any idea what you might have done to make your jaw hurt?"
Althea shrugged lightly.
"Maybe I hit it on the floor when I fell?" She suggested nonchalantly. "I don't really remember, most of what happened is still blurry" she added quietly.
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O'Hara pursed her lips thoughtfully and put her fingers under Althea's chin to gently lift it up. "Could you tell me where exactly the pain is? Touch it if you can, or at least point."
Althea lifted her own hands, stretching her finger and gently touched her own jaw.
"Here" she said quietly, wincing lightly.
"But the pain isn't to bad"
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O'Hara gently tilted the woman's head as she described her pain, and as the area caught the light, the doctor began to nod in understanding. "Ah, yes I see. It's beginning to bruise as well. Is there anything that you might have collided with on the way down? A table or chair? Your own arm, perhaps?"
Althea scrunched her eyebrows together.
"My own arm I guess" she mumbled.
"I don't really remember to be honest" she repeated.
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O'Hara nodded. "Yes, I know," she murmured, gently tilting Althea's head to get a better look at her jaw. "Nothing major came back on your scans, so I'm going to say it's just a surface bruise. Would you like something for the pain? Percocet? Vicodin?"
Althea groaned lightly.
"No im okay" she mumbled quietly, making sure to avoid the doctors gaze.
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O'Hara frowned slightly. "You know that it'll help with most of the pain you're feeling. If you're not comfortable with that kind of medication, we have morphine. Whatever you like, darling, and I'll get it here for you." She offered a genuine smile to the girl, feeling oddly comfortable around her. Normally, she maintained a get the fuck away from me composure, but she didn't think that nature would fit with this woman. She seemed mostly genuine, so O'Hara decided to be mostly genuine back. "And is there anyone you'd like us to contact? Family members? Friends? A romantic partner?"
"no-" Althea croaked, then cleared her throat, looking down. "No, no one" she whispered ashamedly.
"I'll take Morphine then" she added softly.
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A look of understanding seemed to pass over O'Hara, and she nodded slowly. "While it's highly recommended you tell someone that you're here, I understand."
She distracted herself by checking the IV levels, and at Althea's request, O'Hara swapped the fluid bag diligently to give her a new dose of morphine. Her fingers were swift, but if one looked closer, they were trembling. She took a breath and finished the job. "There we are," she remarked quietly.
O'Hara hesitated for a moment before placing her manicured hand on top of Althea's. "I understand," she repeated in a murmur. "If I was in your situation right now, I wouldn't have anyone either. But I'll be here if you need anything, and if you can't find me, have a nurse page me."
Althea nodded and smiled up at her dopily.
"Thank you pretty lady" she said and closed her eyes, letting herself be engulfed in the warm, tingly feeling overcoming her whole body, letting herself fall into the dreams that swallowed her whole.
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O'Hara smirked a bit as the morphine took effect and Althea called her "pretty lady." Truth be told, in her life, she had been called much worse names.
"You're welcome, darling," she murmured, letting her fingertips gently trace Althea's jawline as the girl fell back asleep. When her patient was completely unconscious, O'Hara turned and left, pulling the curtain shut behind her. She would be back to check on her later.
(time skip—?)
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(Yep! Whenever Althea wakes up, O'Hara will conveniently return to check on her lol)
Althea woke up groggily and rubbed her eyes with a fist.
"Mhm," she said, her lips were dry and stuck together, so she wetted them by licking them.
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O'Hara was standing by the nurses' station, checking on some old records from one of her patients. Her lips were pursed, a sign that she was deep in thought about something.
Jackie calling out her name went over her head about three times before the blonde-haired nurse finally got through.
"O'Hara!"
The doctor looked up and frowned. "Jacks, dear Lord. Is someone dying?"
"Somewhere, probably yes," Jackie replied. "But as for here and now, the woman in Bed Four is awake. Thought you might want to go and check on her. Wine bottle."
"I'm aware of my patients' injuries, thank you," O'Hara countered, setting her file down in the wire basket before heading over to the bed. She pulled the curtain back and stepped in, closing it behind her.
"Hello, darling," she greeted, looking at the vital signs before down at Althea's face. "You slept for quite a bit. Are you feeling better now?"
Althea nodded solemnly.
"I had the weirdest dream," she admitted. "Some man hit me with a wine bottle."
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O'Hara's lips opened and closed, then opened again. She braced her hands on the plastic railing of Althea's bed and began to explain.
"Darling… I'm afraid that actually happened. You're at All Saint's Hospital. I'm Doctor O'Hara. We've been treating you for the past twenty-four hours."
Althea laughed lightly.
"I knew the wine bottle symbolized something." She whispered manically. "Did they arrest the man?"
She looked up at Doctor O'Hara expectantly.
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O’Hara frowned a bit, checking something in the IV fluid bag next to Althea’s bed. “I’m not sure,” she said a bit absently. Did someone else adjust her morphine levels?
She looked back down at Althea’s face. “I’m sorry, but I truly wouldn’t have any idea. That’s not my side of things.”
Althea nodded.
"I hope they didn't," she said honestly, "He was just trying to protect his family."
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The doctor blinked quickly. “I don’t think many people in your case would have the compassion to say such things,” she remarked. “But you could have seriously been hurt. And it was a wine bottle he hit you with. Don’t you think he could have been under the influence?”
"Well," Althea said quietly. "If he was, I suspect he probably feels guilty enough…hopefully."
She then flexed her fingers on her left hand. "Hopefully."
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The doctor arched her eyebrows briefly. “There’s a lot riding on that ‘hopefully.’” She noted the action and reached instinctively to hold the woman’s left hand. “When did your hand start hurting?” she asked.
"Right after I woke up." Althea said and looked around. "How long have I been here?"
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“Twenty-four hours,” O’Hara repeated. She frowned as her eyes caught on Althea’s stitches and the blossoming bruise on the woman’s jaw. The stitches were fine – O’Hara had done them herself – and the bruise was only surface-level and nothing more. So why was the woman’s hand now in pain?
“Let me know if this hurts,” the doctor said, gently flexing Althea’s wrist back toward her, then away, then back again.
Althea winced slightly, turning her face away to avoid showing the thin sheen of sweat showing up on her forehead.
"It hurts a little," she admitted. "I remember I tried to grab it from him and he threw me to the ground, then pressed his foot down on my wrist, maybe that's why it hurts so much?"
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