Absit Omen RPG
Role-Play Boards => London => Muggle London => Topic started by: Tamzin Ollivander on August 23, 2018, 01:47:06 PM
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22 November 2011
11pm
University College Hospital
London
Tamzin Ollivander was trying to sit up, but it felt like those dreams where her arms and legs were too heavy. There was noise everywhere, muffled soggy and ringing in her ears. All the sound was moving; no, she was moving. She was moving! Why couldn’t she sit up? She tasted blood. She smelled chemicals. A voice made its way through.
”Try to hold still. We’re going to take care of you.”
Hospital? Was she hurt? She couldn’t tell! Wouldn’t she know if she was? What were these smells, who were these people? Where was her wand? The voice chipped an edge of the panic, but her breathing was still fast and shallow.
”Adult female, struck by a car on Charing Cross and went flying. Driver refused medical care. Patient regained consciousness in the ambulance, but she’s out of it. Think she’s blind. Multiple lacerations, likely concussion, possible fractures of the…” The emergency responder continued to pass along their initial evaluation to the doctor.
”Any identification?”
”We looked. Nothing like that. Purse is there if you want to look.”
The patient must have looked strange to all these muggles. Blood staining her shock-white hair, flowing violet robes over a high-collared shirt. Her shoes had curled toes. And her bag was filled with a bevy of strange fiddles, fobs, and old-looking coins and totally lacking of a phone, transit passes, or chewing gum.
Tamzin reached with her hand and found warm skin.
“Where am I? What’s going on!” Her voice came out shaky and breathy, catching in her throat.
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"Has the patient shown any dyspneic episodes during transport? No? Let's keep her on the backboard - move her and the board to the table on three. One, two, three."
Chilled fingers closer around Hanna's wrist and she cast a brief, warm grin down at the young woman before turning her attention back to the team. She could hear the woman's shaky, bewildered questions but the medics were eager to get back out to their next call. As usual, freeing them of their temporary charge was the first priority.
Starting an initial triage assessment was the second.
"What? Is some sort of Renn Faire going on, Dr. Schäfer?" Maggie, one of the nurses asked as she bustled into the trauma room and cast a glance at the thick bunches of purple fabric bunched up around the straps that held the woman (and, most importantly, her spine and neck) to the rigid, plastic backboard at the forehead, shoulders, waist and legs.
"Maybe," Hanna offered with just a touch of humor. She nodded in confirmation as the medics shuffled back out of the room with their now-empty stretcher to whatever corner of London they were headed to next. "Either way, let's get an IV started and get a rush on a chemistry panel and blood count. And, check the bag for any sort of ID or contact information for emergencies."
As Maggie set to work, Hanna leaned over table to peer down at their very bewildered-looking Jane Doe. "Hello, my name is Dr. Schäfer. You've been brought to University College Hospital. Can you tell me your name? And, do you remember how you got here?"
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Tamzin was catching more and more of the conversation - they were talking about her - and oh! She felt herself suddenly lifted and set back down. More hands, more hands. She felt the space around her get smaller - she was out of the open and into a room. A room. This wasn't St. Mungo's. It smelled wrong, something was beeping, a foreign electronic sound. This wasn't St. Mungo's! She began to settle into the terrifying realization that she must be in a muggle hospital.
In her life, she had met only enough muggles to count on her hands. She'd lived all these years in the winding network of magical streams that ducked in and out of the sprawling muggle city and countryside, like hidden deer trails in the woods. A secret, ancient thoroughfare. She knew that the worlds were blending more and more and she ought to have taken more time to learn but ...
A soft voice with a German accent spoke to her.
"Tamzin," she answered. "No. Was it in a ..." These were muggles. She hadn't been Apparated. Had to be, "...was it a car?"
Someone had her left arm firmly, and she didn't have time to flinch when the crook of her elbow was pricked, and then continued to be handled.
"I can't move." It wasn't wasn't a spell - she'd had those before. This felt different.
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’Was it by car?’
Almost imperceptibly, Hanna’s eyebrow arched as she glanced down at the woman. “Maggie, recheck the notes from the medics, would you? Did she regain consciousness during transit?”
”Patient loaded at 22:38. Regained consciousness with marked disorientation at 22:40,” Maggie read from the chart after placing a catheter and drawing three vials of blood. Hanna turned back to the patient as Maggie hustled out of the room with the blood samples in hand.
"You'll want to stay still, at least for a few more moments - the board is just there to make sure you don't move," Hanna offered, trying to sound as calm and reassuring as one could expect to sound in such a scenario. "We want to make sure it's safe for you to move before taking you off of it."
“What kind of name is Tamzin?” Hanna asked, conversationally, as she drew a penlight from her pocket and shone it in her eyes. Henry, another emergency care nurse came bustling in and, wordlessly, set to work attaching vital monitors to their confused patient. "What was the occasion for the fancy duds?" she added as she lowered the light and held a single finger up in front of Tamzin's gaze.
"Follow my finger with your gaze," she said as she moved her finger slowly from side to side. "Unfortunately, we are going to have to cut them a little. Have you had an EKG before?" she asked, as she spotted Henry plugging the lead lines into the monitor.
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No, she didn't like this. People were moving about her, touching her - it wasn't rough but she didn't know what they were doing. She patted the bed around her, finding crisp sheets and cold metal rails. She needed her wand, then she'd feel better because she'd be able to get a clearer sense of the space. But she couldn't ask. Muggles!
She furrowed her brow, trying to remember what could have happened. Tried to take a deep breath, but she felt like she couldn't.
"What kind of name is Tamzin?" the Healer asked.
"What?" She didn't understand the question. "It's my name."
The Healer asked more questions and Tamzin tried to focus as things continued to bustle around her.
"What was the occasion for the fancy duds?"
Her clothes! Oh, Merlin, these muggles! She tried to remember Muggle Studies.
"Opera," she tried.
"Follow my finger with your gaze."
Tamzin almost missed the instruction tucked into talk of cutting her clothes and something called an EK ..
"No, no, I can't," she said with exasperation. "I'm blind. "
Then she quickly added, "not from ... today. Always. I'm sorry, but I don't know what happened. Was there an accident? I think my arm isn't right ... when I move it."
Her left arm, she could move it around next to her. But her right, any attempt to shift it made her breath catch in her throat.
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"What? It's my name."
Despite herself, Hanna snorted a half-chuckle as she nodded her head. "I was curious about it's origin. It's not a name I've heard before." Especially in emergency medicine, Hanna had come across quite a few names. "It sounds like it could be Middle Eastern. Or, even, Russian. What's your family name? Is there any family we can contact for you?"
Tamzin's confusion and worry was evident, but not entirely out of place. Few arrived on their backs by ambulance feeling comfortable and calm.
Creating a sense of normalcy through casual, calm conversation was something one of her consulting physicians had taught her during her first year of residency. Keeping the patient focused on the conversation also helped keep them from worrying about what was happening to them. Quite often, her patients' conversation topic of choice was one that was well beyond Hanna's experience and comfort zone, like sports or fishing or motorcycles and learning to keep them engaged in a conversation she had little interest in had taken practice.
Luckily, a childhood in Austria left one well-prepared for this woman's interests.
"Oh, you're a fan of opera?" she offered, brightly. "It's a bit stereotypical, I know, but I am fond of a good, dramatic Wagnerian opera. Which one did you see?"
Hanna lowered the pen light, nodding and shifting out of the way so that Henry could place the adhesive leads on Tamzin's chest.
"You've been blind since birth?" Hanna repeated, looking for confirmation. "Do you happen to recall if your primary physician has mentioned a nystagmus related to your visual impairment?" The left-tracking nystagmus the woman was exhibiting could have been the result of head trauma or could have always been there; unfortunately, to complicate things, both could be the case.
"From what the medics told us, you were hit by a car," Hanna offered as the woman started searching for an explanation. "Your right arm appears to be dislocated and, quite possibly, fractured. We will be taking x-rays, but we need to rule out any spinal injuries first. Are you feeling pain anywhere else? Can you try flexing your left foot and then your right foot for me?"
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The Healer's chatter was doing double-duty; Tamzin's attention was fixed on deciphering the mysterious muggle jargon, and trying to keep up and answer the questions. She'd heard a story in a pub of a wizard who was mistaken by muggles as having a mental disorder because he wasn't flagging onto normal muggle behavior. That was a scenario to be avoided.
During their conversation, the Healers were making good on the warning that some of her clothes might be removed. Even their practiced jostling awoke pains that adrenaline had been hiding from her, and caused her to grit her teeth. Warmed blankets replaced wet or torn sashes and leggings and shoes.
The conversation was a welcome distraction, even if it was a balancing act.
What's your family name? Is there any family we can contact for you?
"Tamzin comes from Thomas. My surname is Ollivander. Could be Syrian. You won't know it. Oh-ell-ell..." Tamzin, in a steady bit of courtesy, spelled it. She was less steady on who she could possibly have them attempt to contact. No one in her family had telephones. She searched her mind for anyone she knew who might. Maybe this was how ...
"You try my friend Jonas Trevelyan, he's ... " muggleborn, "...Cornish. I don't know the ..." oh Merlin, "telephone number."
Oh, you're a fan of opera?
Oh, sod it! Leave it to Tamzin to find the one muggle healer who was keen to opera.
"Wagner's good," she said with an exasperated laugh. (Which caused her a sharp pain in her side, and thus, a wince.)
"But this was something by Carstairs. You won't know him. Bit out of the, eh, mainstream."
Do you happen to recall if your primary physician has mentioned a nystagmus related ...
Oh, sod it! What was she talking about, nystagmus? It sounded like a spell incantation, if she was honest, from the Greek. 'Do you happen to recall,' the Healer had asked.
"Erm, no..."
From what the medics told us, you were hit by a car
"Well, that would explain it," she said with a crooked, dry smile. Dislocation, fractures, spinal injuries, x-rays. It was all so arcane. If she'd been in St. Mungo's she'd have choked down Skele-Gro by now and be knitting up!
As to be cooperative, Tamzin obliged the muggle healer and moved her left then right, and gasped! A bolt of pain and she yelped.
"No, thank you! Left! Left."
And her body's natural reaction to a pain below was an attempt to move towards it, and that awoke that pain in her side like an angry basilisk. She felt the tubes and cords tug and shift as she reached around to feel her ribs on the opposite side.
"Left leg, left leg. Lower portion. And my side, when I move or laugh."
She laughed then, without thinking, then lifted her eyebrows. "Not smart."
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The woman's explanation of her first name was met with mild interest, as it mostly confirmed Hanna's guess. Her surname, however, did tickle something in the back of Hanna's mind. More of that indescribable sense of déjà vu that struck you without any warning or explanation than an actual memory. For a few seconds, Hanna regarded the woman with slightly suspicious curiosity which, of course, was likely completely lost on the visually-impaired woman.
But, it hadn't been lost on Henry.
"Dr. Schäfer? Is everything alright?" she heard the nurse ask as he paused in his work.
With a nod of her head, Hanna gathered her thoughts and offered a well-practiced reassuring smile to Henry. "Yes, of course. Just got lost there for a moment." It was likely just some homonym of some sort. Or it just sounded similar to some story or game the kids had been playing.
"We will see if we can locate this friend of yours. How do you spell the last name?" she asked, glancing pointedly across the table at Henry who was already standing at the ready with a pen and a pad of paper.
There was a light tapping on the door frame and Hanna looked up to see Maggie walking back in with four pages of laboratory results in her hand.
"Before you ask, Dr. Schäfer, I already asked them to rerun the sample," Maggie offered preemptively, in a low tone as she handed the papers to her. "Both sets of results are identical. And, the technician ran a control sample to make sure calibrations aren't off. It's not a technical error."
There was, Hanna had quickly decided, a benefit to having a visually-impaired patient; she did not have to waste energy on maintaining a professionally neutral expression while reviewing the results. However, she did force herself to maintain the casual chitchat with as much interest as she could, in between consultations with Maggie.
"I haven't heard of Carstairs operas. Are they contemporary?" she offered as she arched an eyebrow in Maggie's direction. "Low BUN but no sign of icterus in the plasma and normal bilirubin?" she asked, under her breath. "And ... electrolyte levels ... how old are you, Tamzin?" she asked as she glanced from the results to the woman and back.
"Do you want me to call down Internal Medicine."
Wordlessly, Hanna shook her head as she sat back and assessed the situation.
"Henry, can you- oh good." Bless the nurses, really. He was already standing at the ready with a fresh chart and pen.
"No, definitely not the smartest," she offered with a grin to Tamzin. "But, you can lie still for now. We have enough information to know where to go."
An absolute and completely utter lie, but that was what one did in these circumstances. No one wanted to hear their doctor admit they hadn't the slightest idea what was going on, even if they were thinking that half the time. And none of this was making sense; it was time to go back to basics.
"Alright. MPL: Axillary subluxation. Potential complete fracture of the humerus. Potential concussion. Potential fracture of the tibia or fibula. Possible fracture of right seventh rib. No indication of spinal injury but need to rule out vertebral fractures. Hypouremia, hypernaturemia, hyperkalemia and leukocytosis but reticulocytopenia."
As far as differential diagnoses, Hanna had no idea where to begin.
"Alright. Maggie. Go ahead and call radiology and cancel radiographs but see when they can get her in for an MRI. At the very least, we can try to rule out any internal bleeding and identify the location of any fractures." And, get her off the backboard, if there are none to her spine. "Henry. Go ahead and set up a morphine drip and then see if you can hunt down a phone number for the point of contact. I'll stay with her while you do."
Her potassium levels, alone, should be giving Tamzin heart palpitations and, yet, that hadn't even registered in the complaints.
"Tamzin, do you recall what you were doing prior to the accident? I know this is a sensitive question, but we do need to know. It might help explain some things." Maybe. If miracles existed. "Were you taking anything? Drinking or are you on any drugs? Could you have come across anything toxic?"
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Tamzin closed her eyes and tried to keep calm, keep calm and think. Keep calm, think, and try to listen. And answer questions. She could handle this.
"Forty-two."
"T-R-E-V-E-L-Y-A-N." No expectation at all that they'd be able to track down a wizard in the middle of the night.
Schäfer. Doctor Schäfer, that's right. Not Healer. Good. She could handle this.
Carstairs contemporary? "Oh, very. Quite modern."
Tamzin tried to imagine what an Edgar Carstairs opera would actually be like. She imagined lots of thunder, for some reason. And twinkling bells. She'd have to enquire next time they met. 'I had an idea for an opera, Edgar, it was the strangest day...'
Three muggles were having conversations over and around her, and she didn't understand. It sounded like another language. More breaths, deep as she could without her ribs upset, try and focus, try and remember.
Seemed that as she grew calmer, she was finding new hurts. And then, shuffling at her left, at the tube. Henry.
Then Tamzin and Dr. Schäfer were alone. With the movement on her person stopped, she began to carefully feel around with her left again, finding the edge of the bed, the strap across her chest, the crust of drying blood around her neck. If she bent her elbow, though, it stung.
Tamzin, do you recall what you were doing prior to the accident? I know this is a sensitive question, but we do need to know. It might help explain some things. Were you taking anything? Drinking or are you on any drugs? Could you have come across anything toxic?
Explain things? Explain what. Had she made a mistake? Had she given something away?
"No, no, nothing like that. What time is it?"
11:30pm
"I was ... I was walking." Tamzin furrowed her brow, trying to think. She felt funny. Dulled her laugh to a smile and a few breaths.
"I was down the pub. After the play," he added, remembering her lie. She kept thinking. It had been the Leaky Cauldron, but there were no cars on Diagon Alley. Why had she gone out the muggle side, what was there?
"Must have..." She couldn't remember why she'd be on Charing Cross, or any muggle street for any reason, and certainly not on her own, nor in the middle of the night.
"I can't remember. I had one or few, but I never drink enough that I can't remember," she said, a creeping smile. She patted around again, looking for the doctor.
"Dr. Schäfer, do you know where my things are? I had a bag; tassels and embroidered stars. And what is this? In my arm? Something stings."
She didn't want to ask too many questions, but really, Dr. Schäfer was not being very expository.
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Medical mysteries came and went. Hanna was no stranger to them, of course, but she couldn't quite remember the last time she felt this totally stumped. Nothing about the woman lying on the backboard made sense - from her test results to her demeanor to her clothes to her mannerisms.
It was her experience that, typically, these type of cases had some hidden, underlying factor or detail that just somehow connected all of the seemingly unrelated factors - like the underground network of fungus that connected the seemingly unrelated mushrooms you say scattered across the ground. Some underlying explanation, that remained concealed from her, somehow connected all of these oddities about this woman. Until then, the blind woman remained a complete enigma.
"I was ... I was walking."
At first, Hanna just nodded her head, finding nothing out of place with the comment. Pubs. Plays. A few drinks. Nothing at all abnormal about any of that. Until... "Dr. Schäfer, do you know where my things are? I had a bag."
"Yes, we have it," Hanna offered, scowling in confusion that may have stretched to the tone of her voice. "It's in your belongings bag underneath the bed." The woman was visually-impaired and she'd been out walking. But, there was no sign of an assistive device or guide animal and Tamzin wasn't worrying about either such item. "We'll make sure it goes home with you. Is there anything else you think you might have misplaced? What do you use for Orientation and Mobility?" she asked.
"And, this may come across as a strange question, but do you remember who the current Prime Minister is?" The woman was young for, even for early onset Alzheimer's or Parkinson's, but neither were out of the question.
"That's just a catheter; we want to make sure your hydrated," she offered as Henry knocked on the wall to let her know radiology was ready.
"I'm sure you're more than ready to get off of that backboard, yes?" Hanna offered, stepping up to the side of the hospital bed and looking down at the woman. "We're going to head upstairs so we can rule that out. Have you ever had an MRI before? They can be a little unsettling." Especially for the visually impaired, Hanna thought to herself.
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The doctor was being kind, Tamzin had to believe; she was just doing her job same as the Healers at St. Mungo's. But the questions were getting more and more odd and Tamzin was beginning to detect that Dr. Schäfer was growing suspicious. If not suspicious, then something like it. But who could tell. The whole concept was unthinkable, stranded alone in a muggle hospital. But by the moment she was feeling steadily more calm and the pains were fading.
It felt very much like a gently easing Cheering Charm. Yes, that's how she'd tell it.
Should that worry her? She let her eyes close.
They had her bag. Well, good. But she wanted her bag and her wand. But she couldn't ask for the latter without having an excuse for what it was.
"We'll make sure it goes home with you. Is there anything else you think you might have misplaced? What do you use for Orientation and Mobility?"
Tamzin mouthed the words to herself. 'Orientation and mobility'. Oh hell. Well, I use a bloody wand, don't I, she thought to herself. But oh! When she was younger she used a cane. Yes, that was plausible. Muggles used them, too.
"A cane," she lied. "I must have lost it. I'm sorry, you're being so helpful."
"And, this may come across as a strange question, but do you remember who the current Prime Minister is?"
Oh, sod it. The bloody muggle Prime Minister!? What kind of question was that! The frustration was clear on her face. The only one she could remember at the moment was Tony Blair who had been so charming. She sighed.
"I don't follow politics," she finally said, hiding her nerves with a little laugh. "They're all a bunch of twits, aren't they. The lot of them. There's more to life, I say."
"Have you ever had an MRI before? "[/i]
"MRI, no." It was an acronym. "What is it? I'm sorry, I've had a bit of a day and you're being so sweet. Where are you from? I've heard that accent somewhere before. Have you been a doctor long?"
That was it, be friendly, have a conversation. Just convince the doctor that you're a perfectly normal muggle. Who somehow didn't know who the Prime Minister was.
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Even as the woman on the table began to ask about her cane, Hanna tucked the medical record into the holder at the foot of the bed and released the break on the bed's wheels. "As soon as we get you situated, I'll contact the medics that brought you in and see if they can go take a look around for your cane. I'm sure it didn't go far and I'm sure you'd prefer to get it back."
That, after all, was a simple problem and one she could readily solve.
"I'll see her up to radiology, Henry," she offered the nurse as she rolled the bed towards the lift. "Tell admissions to page me, if they need me, but I'd like to see this one through."
She couldn't explain it - and she wasn't about to try to - but something was off. The most logical explanation for the woman's behavior was that she'd suffered head trauma during the accident and had a space-occupying hemorrhage. Or, perhaps, a brain tumor that had gone unnoticed because the woman lived alone.
"Oh, I don't blame you for not following politics," Hanna offered brightly as, with a ding the lift doors slid open and she pushed the bed into the small space. Once she was inside and the doors had closed, Hanna leaned briefly against the wall. "Though, despite our best efforts, some of it's almost impossible to avoid. Like that headache over the summer with President Reagan trying to preside over the Olympics in Los Angeles."
It was easy to explain the technicalities of an MRI to a fellow physician. It was always a little more complex to explain it to someone who was going to experience it for the first time, sightless. "An MRI is like a really big x-ray, but we'll be able to see the inside of your body with a lot of detail. We'll be able to see if you have any injuries to your spine or if you have any bleeding internally. But, it can be a strange experience - you'll be in a big tube - which can be claustrophobic for some. And, it will be very loud. Do you have any metal in your body? Implants?"
Hanna smiled as the lift doors slid open again and she pushed the bed out into the much-less-hectic corridors of radiology. "I'm Austrian," she offered, brightly, in response to the woman's question. "Born in Innsbruck, but I grew up in a little town called Feldkirch. But, I've only been an official doctor for little over a year. I took a break from schooling when my son was born - though I completed my residency here; it's familiar stomping grounds."
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They were moving and Tamzin quietly held onto the rail again. Usually she used her wand in an unfamiliar place to get a better idea of the space, keep track of people, just get her bearings overall. But it only took a few turns and a few doors for her to loose track of where she was relative to where she'd been. It made her feel abjectly unsafe; her grip on the rail tightened, but she had to cover.
Dr. Shafer's friendly chatting was slowly becoming less and less comforting.
She'd given them Jonas's name - really she'd just thrown it out there - but still had no idea if muggles would be able to find him. The description of the MRI, still not being allowed to move, her wand unaccounted for, and now implants? Metal in her body? Was that common among muggles!? She'd heard stories of the barbarism of muggle medicine. Metal implanted in the body fit the narrative.
"No," she answered as casually as she could, covering.
She tried to blink through the fogginess of her head. The MRI sounded terrifying, but it didn't seem likely she could talk her way out of it. What she really needed was her wand and then all this would be over. Apparate directly to St. Mungo's and this could all be handled properly. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to think.
"I'd really rather - " she stopped herself. "Oh Merl- shit shit shit..." she muttered.
Shortly they arrived at the MRI room and a few more muggles got involved, bodies moving around, kind words from Dr. Shafer, fiddling with the IV, advisement to stay still, a painful transfer from the bed to the machine. Blankets, hands, instructions. Sooner than later, she was hearing Dr. Shafer's voice as if through the Wireless.
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****
"Naw," he corrected the charge nurse behind the desk cheerfully, flashing the man an apologetic smile. "Like I said. I just happened to be in the area when I got the message, yeah? I don't know what room she's in yet."
It was the third time he'd given the story in the past five minutes, and Jonas was trying not to let his impatience show. For starters, it wasn't the poor bloke's fault that Jonas didn't know what room Tamzin was in. It also wasn't his fault that Jonas's story of having been taking a midnight stroll nearby when he'd received the hospital's call didn't make any sense. If some strange fellow had shown up suddenly late at night with a similarly convenient story when he had been on duty, the Auror wouldn't have believed his tale either.
But for now, they didn't have much of a choice except to humor each other. Jonas flashed the man another hopeful smile, and then waited, his elbow leaning on the counter, trying not to tap impatiently at the wood service. The nurse eyed him for a moment longer, and then returned his attention to the computer screen in front of him and began to type.
"ID?" he asked after a moment, holding a hand out.
Jonas dug into his pocket for his wallet, found it, and slid it across to him.
A few minutes later, and he was finally on his way to the emergency care ward of the University College Hospital, where Tamzin Ollivander had been admitted. The inconveniently-timed call hadn't come with many details; he'd been listed as her emergency contact, which meant that Tamzin was at least coherent enough to give his name. Once he arrived, he had to check in again with the desk so they could send word to Dr. Schäfer, who was administering to her.
The waiting rooms at Muggle hospitals were much less interesting than what he had encountered at St. Mungo's, where it often became sort of a private game to guess at how each patient had gotten themselves into their unusual predicament. Here, though, no one appeared to have accidentally transfigured themselves into half a tea pot or any other kitchen appliance, and none of the other tired-looking people in the waiting area were making any noises more interesting than a hoarse-sounding cough. Sighing, Jonas pulled out his cell phone and sent a quick text to Anna, and then began pulling up a website, if only to help the time pass more quickly while he waited for word from Dr. Schäfer.
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Most people were nervous their first time getting an MRI - it was a loud and nerve-wrecking experience. She could only imagine what it would be like for someone who had a visual impairment and couldn't tell where they were going or what was happening. Or, with so little in the way of familial support. Hanna had tried to offer words of comfort, explanations or encouragement but she had a strong suspicion that it hadn't made much difference.
Especially since the process had taken longer than it should have on account of the radiology technician struggling to get images free from feedback. Despite multiple attempts, they never managed to get a full, decent image though they were at least able to rule out spinal injuries between the scattered attempts.
"We've already sent the images up to surgery, so they'll be ready for you in the morning. We'll have you patched up and heading home in no time," Hanna offered. She was hoping the geriatric medicine team could do a cognitive evaluation on the woman before they dismissed her but she could hear them now, insisting that such a thing was just as easily done during an outpatient visit.
They'd been able to free Tamzin from the neck brace and backboard before returning her to the ECU and settling her into a proper hospital bed as the bustle of shift change descended upon the hospital. Despite the usual end-shift exhaustion, Hanna had long since texted an apology home and submitted a request to stay on for a few more hours - at least until the woman had been transferred to the surgical team in the morning. Despite several fractures and a blood panel that suggested the woman should be in some sort of blood gas imbalance, Hanna had a suspicion the woman would try to leave if she were given half the chance. The morphine, alone, should have prevented that but the last thing Hanna wanted was to explain to her supervisors how an old, blind, multi-fractured patient - possible with early stage dementia and metabolic acidosis - managed to walk out of the hospital unseen.
"I know it's difficult here, but you really ought to try and get some sleep," Hanna encouraged Tamzin. "We could get you something, if it would help." With a mostly silent burring sound, the phone in her pocket vibrated, paging her to the front desk. "That might be your emergency contact," she offered Tamzin. "No trying to run off, now." She tried to phrase it as a joke, though she'd meant it just as much as a legitimate request.
Leaving instructions with a passing nurse to keep an eye on her, for good measure, Hanna wound her way up to the waiting room and to the young man the front desk indicated. "Mr. Travilin, Dr. Hanna Schäfer," she offered as she extended her hand. "I'm glad we were able to connect with you. If you'll follow me, I'll bring you back to visit. Are you family or friend of the family?" She asked, buying time to avoid divulging any personal information about Tamzin until they'd moved beyond the waiting room.
"Tamzin was brought in late last night after a motor vehicle accident. She's stable and doesn't appear to have any life-threatening injuries but we are monitoring for any complications. Do you know how we might contact her primary physician?"
-
More concerning than the the bizarre experience of the MRI was another round of quieted confused voices as what the muggle doctors expected to happen didn't seem to happen. Despite Dr. Schäfer's very fine efforts, the dread in Tamzin couldn't be quieted. It wasn't Dr. Schäfer's fault, of course. She would't know. And on top of that, she couldn't know. Couldn't know that nothing about her patient was going to make any sense and that every little test and question was going to add to the stack of befuddlement for all of them.
She carried on with Dr. Schäfer with as much pleasantness and compliance she could summon.
"No trying to run off, now," said Dr. Shafer.
Tamzin responded with a little laugh. "Oof, don't think I could if I wanted to..."
And for the first time in hours, Tamzin Ollivander was left alone in the muggle hospital.
"About time," she whispered. With the minimal haste she could muster, and with careful maneuvering around the broken bones, Tamzin began an escape attempt. To her great exasperation, sitting up was all she could muster and even that worried her. If she could just ...
She closed her eyes and let a breath settle warm in her gut, then with intensity and feeling she whispered, "Accio wand!"
There! She heard it! Tamzin was no great Wandless Magic Wonder, but there! To her left by the window her wand had rustled in her bag! She tried the spell again, inspiring another wiggle from her wand. It was just out of reach on the large window sill. There were rails on the beds and that blasted little tube was still in her arm. She quickly fussed with both. Not as soon as she'd have liked, she detached some part of the IV and found the release for the bed rail. With a lurch on her good let, a stifled wince of pain, and knocking something over, Tamzin had her hand on her bag.
Then, her hand on her wand. And then, she disappeared.
Shrank away to nine pounds, actually. Quick as a wink, as fast as her fingers made proper contact with the living handle, the white-haired witch became a white-furred cat with violet eyes. She had all the injuries she'd earned earlier that night, but all of the resilience, sturdiness, and whiskers of a feline. The door had been left open, so there was no time to lose.
Tamzin's progress was stumbling, hasty, and she had no idea where she was going. But at least she was out of that bed.
"Oh my god, there's a cat!"
-
"Trevelyan," Jonas corrected, flashing the doctor a quick smile as he gripped her hand.
The handshake was brisk and no-nonsense, just as Dr. Schäfer appeared to be. Within moments, she was leading him back into the hallway towards Tamzin's room.
Expectedly, she also had plenty of questions for him. He'd gotten good enough at making up answers on the spot during the several weeks that Tamis Raynor had spent in a Muggle hospital a couple of years prior.[1] Apparently, if Tamzin giving his name out was anything to judge by, his experience in Muggle-ness had earned him the unofficial role of Muggle Liaison when his friends got into trouble with the mundane.
"Friend of the family," he replied, which was technically true. After all, he'd first met Tamzin's uncle when he was eleven. "Most of Tam's family lives outside of the city, though, which might be why she had me down as a contact. Is she alright?"
They stepped into the hallway, Dr. Schäfer leading the way as she updated him on Tamzin's condition. Brow furrowing, Jonas concentrating on keeping pace with her, trying to minimize his limp.
"Tamzin was brought in late last night after a motor vehicle accident," she continued. "She's stable and doesn't appear to have any life-threatening injuries but we are monitoring for any complications. Do you know how we might contact her primary physician?"
That was a question he hadn't thought to prepare an answer for.
"Ah," Jonas said, mentally running through a list of all of the healers he knew at St. Mungo's. Were any of them Muggleborn? Somehow, he didn't trust any of the few he'd interacted with to act as a successful liaison with a sharp-as-a-whip Muggle doctor. It was really too bad that Grace was only twenty, because she could have probably provided an effective cover.
Before he could open his mouth to respond, betting on the fact that a family friend wouldn't necessarily know someone's personal physician, he was saved by an unexpected feline.
"Oh my god, there's a cat!"
And there was indeed: a familiar white-furred feline stumbled down the hallway towards them, looking more than a little worse for wear, with several frantic people in blue scrubs chasing after it.
Jonas stopped in his tracks, momentarily closing his eyes. As soon as he got back to the Ministry on Thursday, he was going to personally organize a workshop on What Not to Do When Incapacitated in a Muggle Hospital and force every single Animagus in his circle of acquaintances to attend.
"Oi!" he called out to it, putting an emphasis on the word. And then, realizing it would likely look a bit strange if the cat made a beeline for him with no context, he bent over, getting closer to its level. "Uh, here, kitty, kitty?"
-
"Friend of the family, most of Tam's family lives outside of the city, though, which might be why she had me down as a contact. Is she alright?"
Hanna nodded and let out a long, slow sigh. Well, luckily, she hadn't divulged too much personal information to a friend of the family. And, Tamzin had requested they contact this man. Hopefully, one of the nurses had ... or would ... remember to get her to sign a disclosure authorization and no one would care what had been said before or after said paperwork.
Except ... as she neared the end of the wing, the quiet, peaceful hospital room she'd left not moments ago had turned into utter mayhem. A very confused and slightly nervous nurse was standing outside the woman's hospital door with a shrug that could be interpreted one of several different ways. None of which were good.
Nurses, PAs, other physicians and custodial staff were all gathered around the open area outside the nurse's station, all staring at the scraggly feline that was limping across the floor.
"Oh my god, there's a cat!"
"It looks sickly!"
"Did it come in with Danny?"
"Don't let it get away! We need to start checking patients for bites."
"You can't think it's rabid, can you? When's the last time the UK has had a rabid cat?"
"Look at the state of it! Maybe someone sneaked it in."
Hanna had remained quiet amidst the mayhem, narrowed, critical eyes sliding from the staggering cat to the remarkably non-plussed visitor who was simply - albeit awkwardly - calling the cat towards him. He wasn't sharing in the general surprise and alarm. The cat, as well, seemed remarkably less fractious than she'd anticipate most cats being in this position. Damn, their own house cat threw a full out tantrum if they tried to hold it still to trim its nails and this one seemed ...
Blind. Injured, not sick. Broken leg ... in fact ... two broken legs. A rear and a front, on the right side, if Hanna weren't mistaken. Exactly like ...
Hanna's gaze flickered, again, from the man crouching next to her to the nurse standing by the open door to the hospital room and back to the cat. Taking a deep breath, she made a split-moment decision - one that could very well cost her her job, and maybe her license, if she had guessed wrong.
She raised her hands, trying to signal for the growing din to calm somewhat as she turned towards this Jonas. "Mr. Trevelyan, I understand your intentions, but you really should have checked with hospital policy. Patients' pets can not be brought to the hospital to visit, for ... obvious reasons." She gestured towards the mayhem-imbedded cat. "It's too much of a risk to both patients and the animal. If you would please pick up the cat; we'll need to get vaccination records in the morning but, for now, please let's just get her back into the exam room before there's more chaos." She glanced pointedly at the cat before looking towards Trevelyan. "Patients are trying to sleep."
-
Tamzin ordered herself not to regret what she'd just done. She loved being an Animagus, treasured the skill, and the world when she was a cat - it bloomed. Everything was more detailed and rich and with these four paws on the ground, she could almost fly. Well, when she wasn't a wreck, that is. In her current state, her senses didn't so much bloom as blare and her feet were not so nimble. The cacophony was sharp and steely and every smell was soaked in something sour and chemical.
Through the mess, however, Tamzin found a familiar figure! Jonas! These clever muggles had located him somehow. He shouted and then, oh the power-of-Merlin, he didn't....
"Uh, here, kitty, kitty."
Oh, sharp lad this one! Here, kitty, kitty! Honestly, had the man ever interacted with a cat in his life? What actual cat would respond to that sulky ballad? Bah! With effort she slid under a cart that was set against the wall. He'd seen her she knew, so no more use running around. So much of her attention was consumed with trying to cope with the intense pain that every movement brought her.
The doctor's instructions worked to calm the ruckus; but more than that, her improvisation about Jonas bringing felines for visitors was concerning. And puzzling. Not at all a comforting omen.
The cart moved and Jonas picked her up.
Hiss! Careful!
Tamzin snapped at him despite herself, clawing crookedly for secure purchase in his arms. She ended up halfway up his shoulder, her head behind his, and her thick fluffy tail lashing against his face.
Move your hand! Not like that! Hiss!
-
Jonas had already decided that his wife was right and he should never pick up his phone after 8 pm. Now, as he struggled to gather up the unhappy cat, he had to deal with sharp claws, dusty fur, a ferocious tail, and the undeniable feeling that he was about to sneeze.
“Ow! Careful!” He yanked his hand back out of the way as teeth connected a little too firmly.
The cat had been the focus of the entire hallway’s attention a few moments before. Now, as the feline settled unhappily onto his shoulder, getting a few last snips in as it did, all of the eyes had shifted to stare at him.
Luckily — or perhaps unluckily — the doctor had already decided to step in.
“Mr. Trevelyan, I understand your intentions, but you really should have checked with hospital policy...”
Bloody hell. Now he was going to have to figure out how to talk his way out of this one, all while struggling with an upset, allergy-inducing Tamzin the Cat. At least if they got kicked out of the hospital, he could take Tamzin to St. Mungo’s and then be on his way, hopefully directly to pick up allergy medication from a 24-hour drugstore.
Jonas was in the process of opening his mouth, although he was still deciding whether his best course of action was to protest or apologize profusely and leave, when the doctor’s last few words registered.
“Please let’s just get her back into the exam room before there’s more chaos.”
The red-headed Auror blinked.
“Right,” he said, putting a hand to the cat to steady it. This turned out not to be the right move; Tamzin snapped at his fingers again. Jonas tried to shoot her a look, but unfortunately, a whiff of dander in the process turned it into a sneeze.
Did the doctor know something? He hadn’t caught her dropping any verbal cues a few minutes before when they’d been talking privately, but she’d been awfully quick to jump in with a story. Was this all just a coincidence, or was there another reason why she was the one treating Tamzin?
Doing his best to mitigate the clearly unhappy cat, who did not seem to want him to move back in the direction that it had come from, he followed Dr. Schafer back to the exam room.
-
After spending the better part of the night chasing after that one, small missing piece of the puzzle that would make all of this come together, Hanna had a strong suspicion that she'd found it. Everything about how that ragged looking cat and the non-family member visitor (who had arrived with no sign of feline companionship) supported that presumptive diagnosis.
It had been over three decades since she'd last seen proper, real magic. Those early experiences with wands and spells and potions and people who could become other animals had almost completely faded into the recesses of distant memory. They had almost been completely forgotten until that china teacup Micha had dropped nearly a year ago had managed to land on the soft cushions of the sofa in the next room.
And, as unlikely and fantastical an explanation as it might be, it was the only one that fit all the separate pieces. Unfortunately, there were no serology tests or diagnostic procedures that would confirm her suspicion and no recommended protocols for handling things, if her suspicions were correct. And still no way to explain to hospital admins why a blind, multi-fractured hit-by-car managed to disappear amidst the mysterious cat invasion.
This time, Hanna closed the exam room door behind her as she followed the man and the cat inside. "That is her, yes?" she asked, as she retrieved the cat's ... woman's chart from the end of the hospital bed and flipped it open, glancing over the test results for the twentieth time.
"What happens now? I don't recall that we've ever treated your kind here and, given how excited we get when a Lyme disease rash walks through the door, I imagine such a case would make for a memorable grand rounds."
-
Merlin's incorruptible bones and all three moons, she knew? The muggle knew. 'Your kind,' she said. Not a witch, not a squib, a muggle and she knew. That meant she must be in the family, but not enough to tell right away. Either way, the jig was up. The cat was, (so sorry), out of the bag.
Tamzin, delicately but with feeling, moved in Jonas's arms in that pointed way cats did to demand they be set down. Once she was on the soft bed, she became herself again.
"Ahhh-h-h," she breathed. Everything bloody hurt. She was in the hospital gown and her wand in her hand.
Her first words were to Jonas as she tried to find a position that didn't hurt. "Oh, Jonas, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. It smells here and and now -," she paused and leaned a little towards Jonas.
"And now we have to 'obliviate' this one." She mouthed the name of the spell. "I can't get in trouble with Three again. Ahhh-h-h. Don't look," she ordered the doctor.
"Episkokaley," she flicked the spell at her leg.[1] There were some sickening snaps and cracks and Tamzin's grit teeth told all that this was not comfortable, but soon it was done and she laid back with a sigh. "Oh, stars. Stars and unicorns and all that's good, thank you."
-
It didn’t take long for his theory to be confirmed. The doctor clearly knew more about what was happening here than he would have guessed at first, although her use of the phrase ’Your kind’ made him feel like he needed to twitch.
“Ahhh,” Jonas protested, rubbing at his tickling nose as he released the squirming cat down on the bed. "We're all really just part of the same kind, aren't we? It’s not like we’re two completely different species just because some of us learned how to wiggle a stick about when we—“
He was interrupted by Tamzin turning back into herself again.
It was good to see his friend as a human again, even if she looked equally worse-for-wear as she had in her cat form. Tamzin exploded in a wash of words, and he tried to shake his head reassuringly, to let her know that it wasn’t a big deal, up until the point where the conversation took the unfortunate logical turn and she was mouthing the O-word at him.
The Auror winced.
“No one’s getting obliviated,” he said sharply. If Tamzin had wanted someone to come along and clean up behind her at the hospital without any fuss, she’d rung the wrong emergency contact. “And Level Three doesn’t need to bloody well know about this.”
Tamzin seemed to be able to relieve the worst of her pain, even if the process of resetting the bones was a bit disturbing, and so Jonas glanced hesitatingly at the doctor. Of all of his magical friends, he probably had the most to lose when the two worlds started colliding. Tamzin could simply obliviate everyone around her and go back to her workshop without a second thought, but he still maintained a private office in London and kept up appearances with his Muggle contacts here and in Exeter. He didn’t need to end up with some sort of bulletin out for him because the patient he’d come to visit at a Muggle hospital had gone missing. But neither did he want to be the reason for an entire floor of Muggle doctors to get flashy-thinged in a tragic recreation of Men in Black.
Your kind, Dr. Schafer had said. She clearly knew something about the magical world, even if it wasn’t much, and that meant that someone must have trusted her enough to tell her at some point. She could even have a son or daughter at Hogwarts, or be married to a wix.
There was nothing to do but follow their lead and trust her, too.
“Let’s try this again, yeah?” he asked, extending his hand to the doctor. “I’m Jonas Trevelyan. Sometimes private detective, and now full-time Auror with the Ministry of Magic here in London.”
He raised an eyebrow, regarding the doctor carefully for a moment. “How do you know about magic?”
-
Despite her recent advancement to full time clinician, Hanna Schäfer had just enough training to know that outwardly expressing frustration was counterproductive to treating a patient. Even if every fiber of the doctor's being wanted to sigh loudly in frustration and massage the headache that was budding just underneath the bridge of her nose.
“Ahhh. We're all really just part of the same kind, aren't we? It’s not like we’re two completely different species just because some of us learned how to wiggle a stick about when we—“
After all, the middle of the night in the midst of a double shift was probably the least convenient time to dredge up memories of the past and explanations for choice of wording. Especially with a patient and a stranger, both of whom she'd likely never see again.
"I'm sorry if that came across as offensive. I'm afraid, that hasn't been my experience. I've found the line between the stick wigglers and non-stick wigglers to be rather distinct."
But, regardless of wands and histories and memories, Hanna was still a doctor. As the cat on the bed morphed back into her patient, concern quickly replaced the exhaustion and frustration in Hanna's features and she crossed quickly to the side of the bed.
"Will you please stop moving around," she scolded as Tamzin fidgeted in the bed. "You are still my patient and I am trying to-" Her words were cut off by the woman's flood of apologies to Jonas with a few stray course exchanges between the two whose meaning Hanna couldn't quite grasp. This time, despite her best intentions, Hanna couldn't help the quiet sigh and rolled eyes as she slowly shook her head.
"Wait. What are you-" Of course, after raising three children, Hanna was well aware that don't look meant better look, I'm about to do something stupid, but, before she had a chance to intervene, the blind woman had cast a spell at her own injured leg. She winced, sympathetically, at the familiar sound of bone grating bone and could do little more than hope some of the earlier opioid-benzos cocktail persisted, despite the woman's brief stint as a cat. "For mercy's sake!" she breathed, looking at Jonas in exacerbation. "At the very least, here -" she crossed to the small supply room adjacent to the exam room and returned with an ice pack, which she pressed into the woman's hand. "I'll tell you when you can take it off," she instructed.
Keeping one eye on her patient, she accepted Jonas' hand and shook it, the doctorly facade relaxing slightly as she grinned and shook her head. "I don't know what half of that meant but it is good to meet you. I'm Dr. Hanna Schäfer, ER and critical care physician. I was on shift when the medics brought Tamzin in." For a brief moment, she hesitated on the last question but, finally, she offered another slight grin.
"Family trait, I suppose; I grew up around it as a little girl. Most of my distant relatives could do magic but I haven't had anything to do with that world for decades." Distant in terms or familiarity and geography, if not along the family tree. "And, it seems my son has inherited the trait."
-
The trials Tamzin had put herself through in the last ten minutes were quickly taking their toll, but with her friend come in rescue and her wand back with her where it belonged Tamzin felt calmer than she had since she got here.
The doctor thrust an ice cold pad into her hand and Tamzin shortly realized it was meant to be applied to her now-healed leg. She was skeptical but driven by gratitude for Dr. Schäfer, Tamzin complied. She really had been wonderful; in her urgency to get back to the familiar, Tamzin had almost forgotten. Everyone here, really, had been very kind. Just trying to help and keep her comfortable. She resolved to dutifully 'keep it on' even though it felt a little absurd.
There was still the matter of her other arm, ribs, and whatever else. Jonas was being a diplomat, which was fine with her, and Dr. Schafer's responses were mystifying and intriguing.
"She's been very good," Tamzin said, sneaking in a good work to Jonas about Dr. Schafer. Tamzin might have been happy to lay back and rest (ice pack and all) but something kept her attention.
"How old is your son?" A thousand more questions waited at the gates.
-
Watching how Dr. Schäfer continued to manage her patient despite being in a situation that was clearly outside the bounds of her normal experiences was a bit like observing an artist at work. Jonas cocked an eyebrow, his expression a mix between bemusement and impressed appreciation. Truth be told, Tamzin deserved a bit of pushiness. The wandmaker valued her independence more than she liked accepting help.
The physician's response to his re-introduction was enough of an insight. Not quite familiar enough with the Ministry or Level Two for his title to be intimidating; growing up around it with magical distant relatives suggested perhaps a Squib branch of the family. If her son was truly magical now, that was a bit reassuring. Immediate family fell within the boundaries of the Statute of Secrecy, so at least no one from Level Three would try to sappy-thing her if they got wind of her involvement.
Tamzin chose to speak up and put in a good word for the doctor. Jonas slanted the witch a dry look. Very good was a funny way to describe someone that you had just turned into a cat to escape.
"How old is your son?" Tamzin had asked.
He offered the doctor a small, crooked smile. "I can understand that a bit -- I was the only one in me family. My parents still don't quite understand it, even decades later. But I've got a daughter at Hogwarts meself, now."
-
Soundlessly and immensely grateful her patient was unable to see her expression, Hanna Schäfer's eyes widened and she slowly shook her head in dismay as the woman ... witch ... pressed the ice pack to her healed leg. With a gentle but firm hand, she reached out and grasped the other woman's hand and repositioned it, and the ice pack, over her still-swollen shoulder.
"At the very least, we can keep the inflammation at bay until ..." Until what? The woman was transferred to another hospital? "It would take but a few moments to replace your shoulder. Unless your planning on handling that, yourself. All of this would have been much easier, if I knew what I was working with."
Hanna felt the need to point out the obvious, despite her appreciation of the complement. Her limitations had been incredibly frustrating. "I am surprised you don't have a better system in place for this type of situation. A liaison or on-call point of contact at hospitals that can direct you to better help." It was uncommon, though not unheard of, that a patient was transferred to a different hospital after they'd been stabilized. There wasn't any reason the same process couldn't have been applied in Tamzin's situation, if Hanna had known.
"Micha turned eleven in October," Hanna offered, a trace of a smile settling on her features when conversation turned to family. "He started showing signs of magic about a year ago, but I'm afraid I'm not that familiar with Hogwarts. I've heard the name but Durmstrang was the school all my relatives went to." If the fates had offered her a different fortune, she, too, might have gone there.
-
Tamzin accepted Dr. Schafer's repositioning of the ice pack with a chagrined smile. At the offer to 'replace her shoulder' Tamzin shrugged (winced) and agreed. Only a few minutes, seemed simple enough that. With Jonas here and hearing Dr. Schafer was kindly towards wizarding folk and didn't intend to throw a kerfuffle, Tamzin was growing more trusting of her and her strange methods. The 'morphine' had definitely been a boon.
"Micha will be needing a wand and there's none better than Ollivanders," Tamzin said firmly. She wasn't sure how Durmstrang called its pupils to their castle, but at eleven he'd have already received his letter. Hogwarts was certainly a superior education, but she opted not to say so. "You'll have to come round to Diagon Alley straight away. If you know how to get there..."
She shifted in the bed, making a guess at preparation for whatever Dr. Schafer's muggle method for 'replacing shoulders' consisted off. "And my ribs, Dr. Schafer? A few minutes as well?"
It was a ... slight challenge. Certainly if her ribs were broken as her leg, St. Mungo's could mend them with a word. Did the muggles have a treatment? She did regret her tone. What a spot Dr. Schafer was in! Tamzin didn't have a call to be salty.
-
Jonas took a step back as the conversation intermingled with the medical. At least Tamzin had abandoned any mention of Obliviation; instead, she'd found an opening to pitch Ollivander wands. Smiling crookedly, he arched an eyebrow in the witch's direction. He'd take that as a sign that she was feeling more like herself.
Dr. Schäfer, as she skillfully dealt with Tamzin's injuries, brought up the fact that there really wasn't a plan to deal with situations like this, when a magical folk ended up at a Muggle hospital. Jonas gave a half-grimace, inclining his head to her in agreement. In the past couple of years, he'd apparently become the unofficial liaison for Muggle hospital stays, but that wasn't exactly an efficient way to deal with things like this.
All of her relatives had gone to Durmstrang. That was a bit different than the 'distant relatives' that the good doctor had mentioned earlier. The Auror cocked a brow, but kept his mouth shut. Dr. Schäfer might come from a less-magical branch of the family, or she might be a Squib herself.
"Be less of a headache for all of us if there was a system in place, wouldn't it?" he asked, a bit dryly. "What do you think the best course of action is? Reckon it's best to avoid drawing too much attention to all of this, innit?"
-
Doubt and uncertainty creased Hanna's brow, followed by just a moment of grief, as she glanced up from her work and regarded Tamzin Ollivander. "Getting a wand?" she repeated, before picking up a pen and starting to scribble a few comments and notes down on a scrap of paper. But as her thoughts shifted back to the medical dilemma in front of her, her features softened back to their normal state of studious, focused but relaxed.
"No. I'm afraid I don't know about getting to Diagon Alley. We haven't, yet, given all of that much thought."
Which wasn't at all accurate. She had given it thought a lot of thought. But, all of that thought tended to come back to the same conclusion: she wasn't sure she was ready for this transition. She wasn't ready to lose her son to a world she did not, and could not, belong to.
"All of that is a rather big step and I'm not sure Micha is quite ready for it."
In reality, he was probably more prepared for it than she was. But, she had the privilege of being the adult and she got to call the shots. At least, when it came to her kids. With patients, it was not as simple.
"Your ribs are frac-" Hanna started to explain but then remembered the flash and grating of bone and instantly-healed leg. "We don't have anyway of instantly healing fractures. Luckily, with ribs, it's usually only a couple of weeks before they heal on their own. I'd rather give you a little more muscle relaxant and pain relief before setting your shoulder. Is that alright?"
She finished working up her calculations and stuck her head out the door to flag down a passing nurse. As the nurse ventured off towards the pharmacy, returned to the other two. "Mind your sticks; he'll be coming back with the meds shortly."
"Luckily, patient confidentiality is taken very seriously," Hanna offered Jonas. "Which could work in our favor. Getting people referred to a specific individual would the simplest approach - claiming they're part of a pharmaceutical trial would be the fastest way to get physicians to contact someone." She shrugged as she slid a stool up next to the examination table. "No one wants to risk mixing a drug with an unknown, experimental drug, so they'd contact whoever is linked to that trial in the system. But, I don't know how you'd go about letting your people know, though."
-
"Oh for Merlin's sake..." Tamzin dug into her bag for her stack of calling cards. They looked blank to the casual observer, small tastefully thick cards. A tap of a wand illuminated embossed gold lettering. As each letter resolved, the card read itself out loud.
Ollivanders. Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Find us in Diagon Alley. She passed the card to the Doctor.
Then, Tamzin indicated the affirmative that she'd be willing to try the doctor's muscle relaxants and meds. "I'll just think of it as a spot of Skele-Grow." She said this more for her own reassurance than anything. She was a little worried now that politeness might not be the best justification for dabbling in muggle medicine.
The magically isolated wand-maker was glad to let Jonas handle the logistics of getting her up and out of this strange place while still avoiding the stink-eye from The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. She wished she could be of more help, but she suspected she'd done her part: getting struck by an automobile was job enough.
-
There had been a time, four or five years prior, back when everything had felt like it was falling apart and he’d yet to tell Anna anything about his other life, when the ticking time bomb on the horizon had been Gwenna’s eleventh birthday. He hadn’t known that his daughter had any magical talents or whether some strange man would show up at their door to repeat his own right of passage, but he’d spent too many late nights worrying about what might happen. The magical world had a way of barging into one’s life even when it wasn’t wanted, with barely the courtesy to knock.
It was with that eye that he noted something flicker across Dr. Schäfer's expression. The doctor struck him as the sort of woman who was comfortable being in control of the world around her. Even now, confronted with a patient like Tamzin, she had reverted to giving commands and focusing on addressing the witch's injuries, rather than inquiring about the extraordinary situation. In fact, once she'd had confirmation that the cat was indeed her pesky patient, she hadn't asked them any questions about it at all.
At least now that they had connected, Tamzin seemed a little less jumpy about accepting Muggle treatments for her injuries. Dr. Schäfer stuck her head outside the room to converse with a passing nurse. A moment later, she was back inside, with more ideas about how to prevent this sort of situation in the future.
Jonas paused, tilting his head to the side as he listened. Having some sort of flag or notation added to the medical records of magical folks made sense; redirecting their care to someone like Dr. Schäfer was an easy way of ensuring that they didn't get lost in the mires of the mundane health care system. But trying to convince wives without much of a Muggle connection that they needed Muggle medical records...
"Might be worth trying to bring it up through the Ministry," he said after a beat. "I'm not sure how open they'd be to it, but even having a few records fixed up is better than none, yeah? Or finding a way to raise awareness and spread the information about." It sounded like the sort of safety campaign that someone in the magical government was sure to get excited about.
With a slight smile, he inclined his head in Tamzin's direction. "When d'you reckon she's going to be able to get out of here?" he asked the doctor. "In human form, at least."
-
With only a touch of reluctance, Hanna accepted the extended card and put it into the pocket of her lab coat just as a quiet knock behind them signaled the nurse's return. With a few whispered words exchanged between them, Hanna traded the papers in her hand for the syringe's in the nurse's before turning back to the patient's.
"I'm sure it's just like that ... skele-grow?" she repeated, arching an eyebrow as she glanced towards Jonas for any indication the comment was a joke. It sounded very much like type of joke an adolescent boy would make after just a touch of opioids. 'You know what baby skeleton's drink instead of milk to grow big and strong...' sounded exactly like something Micha would come up with. But, from what little Hanna knew of the other woman, that didn't seem to be her type. "Alright, you'll feel a slight pinch in your left shoulder and then a little numb."
She nodded at Jonas' comments as she carefully injected the contents of the syringe into Tamzin's shoulder. "If there's anything I can do to help put something in place, please let me know. It would certainly make our jobs easier." And, made one wonder how often 'anomalous reactions to drugs and treatments' were a result of genetic variation - as they always tended to assume - or if those were influenced by magic.
"The nurse is putting together your discharge paperwork as we speak. On your request, Tamzin, you are being transferred independently to a private medical facility for follow up care of the rib fractures. Once we get the shoulder back in place, you'll be considered stable and can be discharged. I do recommend you follow up with someone about your electrolyte levels - just in case they are abnormal by your standards, as well."
"You're going to feel pressure, but let me know if you feel particularly painful," Hanna offered as she placed on hand on Tamzin's elbow and the other on her shoulder and began rotating her shoulder.
-
Jonas seemed plenty keen to be negotiating around the Statute of Secrecy with a random (albeit kind and capable and discreet) muggle doctor, and she'd have to agree that her own experience here at this hospital had been dramatically sub-ideal on that front, but Tamzin Ollivander had her doubts. Muggles and magic folk got along face to face, when there was warmth and commonality to exchange. But the system? Always always rocky. Merlin bless them for trying though.
Tamzin sat back, closed her eyes, and allowed Dr. Schafer to handle her arm once more. She offered just a moment of resistance when the doctor began moving it, a quick concern over movement that hurt earlier. But she let it go and tried to just relax. True to the doctor's word, the entire sensation was mostly dull. Tamzin's lip curled once or twice in concern.
"How many of you are there here?" she asked on the exhale of a breath. "Who know about us?"
And then, "mmm!" Tamzin gasped and reached for Dr. Schafer. It hadn't hurt, everything she'd been doing had been gradual and gentle, but it had been sudden. Her shoulder had found its home again and her muscles seemed to be thanking the stars.
Tamzin patted Dr. Schafer's arm and put her head back on the pillow. She could be tired now.
-
Now that the metaphorical, magical, and literal cats were all out of the bag, Dr. Schäfer seemed to have the situation aptly handled. She'd found her own solution to the problem, discharging Tamzin to a 'private medical facility.' He found himself thinking about the time that Tamis Raynor had spent more than a week in a Muggle hospital up in Scotland, when he'd had to play interpreter for days on end. If only every magical encounter with the National Health Service could run as smoothly as this had.
It was worth pursuing, anyhow. Anything that resulted in fewer late night phone calls that tested the sanctity of his marriage was a welcome change. With any luck, they might be able to smooth a few of the sharp edges between the magical and the mundane.
He gave the doctor a moment to answer Tamzin's question, and then gave her a nod.
"Yeah, I reckon it would for all of us," he agreed amiably. "Let me explore a bit what it would take on our end of things, and then perhaps we can talk again soon?"
-
With a gentle rotation of the shoulder, Tamzin's humerus eased back into place. Aside from an entirely reasonable level of squirming, the unavoidable side effect of feeling a joint moving in wholly unnatural ways, Tamzin took the whole thing in stride. Keeping the elbow bent and tucked against Tamzin's torso, Hanna turned to retrieve a nylon sling from a nearby drawer.
"To answer your question, I'm not entirely sure," Hanna admitted as she gentle rested Tamzin's arm in the sling and set to adjusting the straps. "Belief in magic is not exactly a common water cooler topic in the hospital. To be honest, between kids swallowing screwdrivers, inhaled earrings and soy sauce overdoses, it also wouldn't be the strangest. Besides, I was always under the impression we weren't supposed to know - so I'd mostly forgotten about it." She assumed, if there were any others in a similar situation at the hospital, they'd be doing much the same.
Hanna picked up Tamzin's chart, scribbled a few notes before scrawling a few signatures. "You're welcome to contact me about it," she extended to Jonas, along with a business card with her cell phone number on back, before ripping off a prescription and reaching out to tuck it gently in Tamzin's uninjured hand.
"In the meantime, that's a prescription for pain medications, should you need them. I have a suspicion you won't, but it would raise eyebrows if I didn't provide one. Your shoulder muscles will be loose and prone to becoming dislocated again, so best to keep it in the sling and rest it until it's fully healed. Beyond that, rest and ... whatever else you do ... will have you back to normal. Just, no more playing chicken with cars, alright?"
She tore of the discharge papers and handed them to Jonas. "Even though your leg is healed, I just ask you use the wheelchair until you are clear of the hospital; I don't want to have to explain why a patient with a fractured femur walked out of the hospital. Other than that, you are free to go."