"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."