Dr. John H. Watson, M.D. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lightconductor) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-12-11 01:22 pm
lightconductor) wrote in ph_logs2024-12-11 01:22 pm
It's December
Who: Watson and you
What: December toplevel for your various Watson needs.
When: Throughout December
Warnings: Talk of old injuries/current disabilities, use of alcohol.
1.
With December comes the beginning of some colder weather, and for Watson, this has always meant the very physical reminder of the time he took a bullet in his shoulder, and the one that's still lodged in his kneecap. He's always had something of a limp, but these days? He's certainly leaning on his cane a little more than he normally does, as well as being a little more of a homebody.
The hot springs, however, are a tempting destination, particularly before the weather becomes bitter enough to keep him closer to home.
On a beach full of people, a bathing costume is, of course, necessary. Here, where it's a little quieter, it isn't, and after setting his clothes into a secure bundle, he slides into the water in the nude. He finds a comfortable seat, and closes his eyes.
2.
There are, of course, business hours.
Watson isn't so busy he won't sit at the front desk of the clinic himself if necessary, a cheerful little fire in the stove to keep the room warm while he writes. This has always been the way for him: quiet office hours are the perfect time to absorb himself in the task of writing some of the things in his head down onto paper. He writes with a dip pen, one where the shaft has been made with a rather familiar looking feather.
Pay no attention to the huge grey tomcat with the ragged ear who is often curled up by the fire, sleeping. He has a tendency to follow Watson to and from work, and comes and goes as he pleases. Watson might have given up on trying to control Diogenes's movements. It's easier just to let him in.
3.
In the evening, it's common for Watson to drop by the Oak and Iron and order a drink at the bar, or maybe a full meal if he has no other plans and does not want to attempt to cook himself. This is one of the little social things he does to keep himself sane, in fact.
He's quick with greetings, eager for conversation.
"How are you keeping yourself? Do you have time to join me?"
4.
Wildcard. Hit me up!
What: December toplevel for your various Watson needs.
When: Throughout December
Warnings: Talk of old injuries/current disabilities, use of alcohol.
1.
With December comes the beginning of some colder weather, and for Watson, this has always meant the very physical reminder of the time he took a bullet in his shoulder, and the one that's still lodged in his kneecap. He's always had something of a limp, but these days? He's certainly leaning on his cane a little more than he normally does, as well as being a little more of a homebody.
The hot springs, however, are a tempting destination, particularly before the weather becomes bitter enough to keep him closer to home.
On a beach full of people, a bathing costume is, of course, necessary. Here, where it's a little quieter, it isn't, and after setting his clothes into a secure bundle, he slides into the water in the nude. He finds a comfortable seat, and closes his eyes.
2.
There are, of course, business hours.
Watson isn't so busy he won't sit at the front desk of the clinic himself if necessary, a cheerful little fire in the stove to keep the room warm while he writes. This has always been the way for him: quiet office hours are the perfect time to absorb himself in the task of writing some of the things in his head down onto paper. He writes with a dip pen, one where the shaft has been made with a rather familiar looking feather.
Pay no attention to the huge grey tomcat with the ragged ear who is often curled up by the fire, sleeping. He has a tendency to follow Watson to and from work, and comes and goes as he pleases. Watson might have given up on trying to control Diogenes's movements. It's easier just to let him in.
3.
In the evening, it's common for Watson to drop by the Oak and Iron and order a drink at the bar, or maybe a full meal if he has no other plans and does not want to attempt to cook himself. This is one of the little social things he does to keep himself sane, in fact.
He's quick with greetings, eager for conversation.
"How are you keeping yourself? Do you have time to join me?"
4.
Wildcard. Hit me up!
no subject
Watson attempts to hide a smile behind his moustache and his hand. He's mostly successful. "The cat is Diogenes. If you're concerned about my fees, I have always aimed to keep them reasonable and fair."
He is frankly not sure how to answer Jeff's question about health insurance. He lacks the cultural context to understand predatory healthcare models of this particular variety.
no subject
"Diogenes," he repeats with a smile. It's a familiar name, though he can't immediately place it. Either a mythical Greek hero or, like, a philosopher? Maybe an astronomer. "Dignified. Looks like it suits him."
And Jeff breathes out a sigh of relief. Reasonable fees, no mention of insurance bullshit, which makes sense, why would a place like this have some dystopian system from his particular corner of the universe? But he still felt compelled to ask, just in case.
"Oh, good, okay." He nods. "So, I was going for a run, out, you know--" He makes a vague gesture in what he assumes is in the general direction of the woods. "--around nature, and I kiiiiind of took a slip and fell down a-- a gulch? No, wait that's too big. More like..." He moves his hands closer together, until his palms are a couple inches apart. "A small ravine." Hence his disheveled appearance. "Anyway, now my knee's aching, my back's kind of pissed off, and I got a few scrapes, which got me thinking, 'huh, I don't know if there's some kind of bacteria or diseases here that my body's totally not equipped to handle', and 'am I going to get exposed to them and die?'"
Totally normal thoughts. Which is all a roundabout way of getting g to the actual point:
"Do you do vaccines?"
no subject
no subject
No insurance industry, and they've got vaccinations here, which alleviates about 75% of his fears going into the clinic. Now, as long as he doesn't get a diagnosis of 'your knee is actually broken and you'll have to stay off your feet for six weeks' or 'I'm sorry, your spine exploded on impact,' he'll be golden.
"Right on," he says with a nod. "Thanks for seeing me on short notice. Or, ah, no notice..."
Jeff heads for the exam room, pausing only to offer Diogenes his hand for a sniff on his way. He braces himself for the possibility that the cat may regard it with disdain or indifference, if he deigns to acknowledge Jeff at all, which is, like, fine. That's always a possibility with cats and it totally doesn't sting a little every time one rejects him! It's the curse of having dog energy (which is a totally real and scientifically proven thing).
Whatever the outcome, he limps his way to the exam room and hops up on the table with a little wince, realizing almost immediately that he shouldn't be so careless with his movement. Fucking back...
no subject
"Unexpected and unusual hours is the common lot of the physician, I fear." Watson frowns as he watches Jeff move, half concerned and half thoughtful. He shuts the exam room door behind him and goes to wash his hands in the basin in the corner. "All right, let's start with the knee, then, as it seems to be the most immediate problem. If you could roll up your trousers, please?"
no subject
Jeff nods and gets to rolling up his pant leg. All in all, there doesn't seem to be any serious damage, though inspection will show that the fall itself is something of a red herring. Runner's knee, exacerbated by bruising and scraping from his ravine incident. Somebody's been overdoing it with the exercise, and not taking enough rest days.
"It's such a cliche, right? Hit middle age, and your knees and back are the first things to feel it. It used to be, I was made of rubber or-- or I was like a slinky! I could bounce back from anything! Now if I trip or fall or nap on the couch, I'm like... a tangled slinky."
Deep.
Jeff sighs. Enough about him. He knows that, like, as a patient, he's supposed to talk about himself and his symptoms, but it feels weird to keep going on about himself anyway. Small talk should be fine, right?
"So... do you get a lot of weird stuff to treat here? Like, I don't know, turnip curses, or ghost critter bites..."
no subject
He frowns a little. "Contusions and abrasions, and some swelling, but I do believe this is more damage to the soft tissues of your knee than anything else. You should stay off it for a week or so, as much as possible. We can find you a temporary crutch, if that is something you would find useful. Right now, I can clean and bandage this for you."
A pause.
"Ah, what's a 'slinky'?"
no subject
"Good to know there's some constants in the universe-- or, uh, universes?" he remarks lightly, with a teasing little smile. Though however much it might sound like he's joking, there's a sincerity there. It is an odd comfort to know that no matter where they are, no matter how many... issues this place has when it comes to mortality and demons and shit, bodies are bodies, prone to the same common aches and sniffles.
There's some discomfort at the probing, however gentle, which only serves to remind Jeff of the fact that this is indeed an issue he can't just ignore. Stupid tender knee... Worse, though, is the suggested treatment: taking it easy. That might as well be a death sentence, with how high strung Jeff tends to be. At least he can distract himself with cultural exchange via slinkies--
"Oh! It's a toy, like-- this sort of..." He tries to make a gesture that embodies the concept of 'slinky', which mostly ends up looking like he's cupping and jiggling some invisible breasts in his hands. "...long, coiled spring? It's suuuuper bendy and flexible, so you can make it do tricks, like walking! And walking down stairs! And... probably other things." It's gotta do more than walk, right? "Hey, so... I can probably get by without a crutch, I think. And I can still go for walks, right? Or like, a light... gentle... totally brief jog...? I can't be outdone by a slinky, dude." Wait, you don't call a doctor 'dude.' "Doc."
no subject
He will also let go being called 'dude,' because frankly Watson has no idea what to do with that and so he just focuses on dabbing at the scrapes with some antiseptic on a piece of gauze.
"Was this your only injury?"