A Nightshift

Writers: Len, Paula
Date Posted: 14th June 2015

Characters: Stennar
Description: A typical night shift at the infirmary for Stennar.
Location: Amber Hills Hold
Date: month 13, day 5 of Turn 7
Notes: Mentioned: Chupsin

Stennar moved quietly among the infirmary beds, not wanting to disturb
those who were asleep. It was yet another nightshift for him. Thing's been
calm and boring so far. Which was preferetable when the option was some
sort of medical emergency. He stopped next a bed. It held one of the old
aunties and she wasn't asleep. "Can't you sleep?" he asked kindly while
checking her chart.

The frail little old lady smiled up at him. "At my age, sweetie, it's hard
some nights to go to sleep. You're never sure if you're going to wake up
again!"

"Well, I'm sure you'll be here for few more Turns yet," Stennar said and
sat next to her. If she wanted to talk, it would break the monotomy of his
shift.

"I don't know." She sat up a bit more. "I have to say I feel just terrible
these last few sevendays. It's like my medication isn't working anymore."

"That can happen, you body kind of get used to the herbs. Chupsin is going
to correct your dosages accordingly," Stennar said with reassuring tone.
"If you like to, I can mix you a sleep draugh. Or we can talk a bit."

"Oh, let's talk. No one young wants to talk anymore, they just rush around
all the time."

"Well, I'm not rushing anywhere. Unless one of you patients go to cardiac
arrest or something," Stennar grinned.

"Oh, don't say that, dear! At my age that's not very funny." Still, the old
auntie smiled at the lad. Such a nice lad, too.

"I'm sorry about that. So, what did you do when you were a young woman?"
Stennar asked. Get them talk to the past and they would go on and on. All
he then had to do was nod now and then and tune them out.

The old auntie had a ornery gleam in her eyes. "Would you believe it if I
told you I was a journeyman Harper?"

"Was that before the Plagues?" Stennar asked. That was actually rather
interesting stuff.

"Better." The old woman's eyes misted up as she thought about the days of
her youth. "Better for women, better by a long margin. There ere no threads
either, so you could travel and see the world. The dragons weren't being
hurt...it was just a better place."

"So I've been told. But this is the world we live now," Stennar said and
patted her frail hand. "How about if I mixed you something that makes you
feel better?" he suggested. His own hands were starting to shake a bit.

"That would be so kind of you, sweety." The old untie patted his hand.

"I'll be back in a bit," Stennar promised and went to the workspace where
herbs were mixed. He carefully consulted her records for correct dosage and
dutifully wrote down what herbs and how much he had used to the infirmary's
invetory-record. Unfortunately, some of the herbs ended up to a small
pouch he carried in his belt instead of her mug. Stennar did feel stabs of
quilty conciense...she was such nice old lady. But his _need_ was greater
than his feelings of quilt. He brought the mug to her when it was brewed
and ready.

"Here, this will make you feel better," he said with kind smile when he
offered the drink.

"Thank you sweetie." She took a sip. "You are a dear."

"You're welcome," Stennar replied and swallowed the bile that seemed to
rise to his throat.
He was feeling bad doing this but he just could not do it.

Last updated on the June 17th 2015

Welcome to Triad Weyrs!

A Nightshift