Sick Healer - Gabriel
Raphael laid in bed. The world was still spinning.
It was a bit of an inconvenience, if she had to be completely honest.
After seventy-two hours, the symptoms certainly had not stopped accumulating. She had no idea how the humans got along with that on a regular basis. It seemed awful.
Eyes dried out, skin texture became somewhat flaky, her stomach had an indistinct feeling of unwell – neither hungry nor full nor sick nor anything distinct, a vague sense of unease…
Thinking felt like wading through molasses. Every movement made sure she remembered her limbs had joints. And nerves. And those could feel things.
Her hands were shaking - badly enough to make braiding her hair impossible.
At least her clothes were not complicated. Simple, patterned, wrinkle-free. Putting them on just made her skin irritated. No matter the material.
Professionalism would not suffer from that particular problem.
Her head felt stuffed and flushed. Not visibly. But… everything felt too warm AND too cold.
That probably was what fever did to someone.
She got up.
Because the reception rang her up. Wonderful.
Angels don’t get sick leave, after all.
She could heal herself, any time, right?
Getting up was painful. Putting weight on her feet made them ache. Everything felt just slightly wrong and uncomfortable.
Even breathing came with a slight rasp. In her lungs. Her nose was still clear, no obstructing slime. Sometimes a drip of liquid, but nothing coagulated. She wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be that way, but that’s how it was.
With a sigh, she stepped in front of the mirror – her skin really had less of a shine to it, less filled out features as well. Her eyes were glazed over. Uncomfortable – and turned two hair strands around one another. It won’t do much, but there was less volume than usual, it would not spring apart immediately.
A shower was definitely in order, she actually sweated through her current clothes. Without moving. But well. It didn’t show. And deodorants existed for a reason.
For now, it would do…
Yawning – that hurt, too, and gave a strange buzzing sound in her head that stopped after about 20 seconds? Together with a strange tingling cold feeling running through her whole body – she walked three steps towards the door. Then held onto the wall. For a few seconds, to make sure the spinning stopped long enough.
Unfortunately, it got worse. She crouched down and stayed there until the black spots in her vision disappeared.
And humans went through this regularly.
She took another breath – not too deep, or there would be a cough – and walked down into the office. And from there, to the reception. Slowly.
“G-,“ this made an almost toneless sound. Great. She coughed, then said: “Good morning, Amurel, what do you need?”
And then Raphael looked up to see her – the balance and definite existence of the floor had been more important – and… she looked… judging. That is… not really something, she usually does.
“You look terrible,” Amurel said. And looked.
“Thah-,” she coughed again, “That seems to be part of the experience,” and her voice already broke again. This was really a bit upsetting.
“… you should at least drink some tea. With honey. And sleep.” The angel actually frowned at Raphael. “Or… heal yourself, you don’t seem to get along well with this”
This was… not wrong.
“Yet many patients,” deep breath, “come here, showing these… symptoms. And I can’t honestly say I… have an idea what they feel like… I do believe it should help my empathy” Her next breath had a rattling quality. It was rather unpleasant.
“… you do need work on that department.” Was the honest answer. Wonderful. “Having you in a representative state would be preferable. To be honest. And we do have to inform an assortment of people of your state”
Raphael concentrated on standing straight. And then said: “Mh. Yeah, sure”
“But since there had been a few appointment requests, we needed to inform the requesting parties, so…” Amurel handed over a blank card.
Raphael opened it and read: ‘Get well. Gabriel.’ Which… alright.
Snapping the card closed, she held it out to give it back: “I… thank you. You can refer all requesters here, anyway. Every other attending doctor here has the required abilities to deal with anything appearing in peace times. Wing care can wait one week longer.” There are routine check-ups. But none could not wait a week.
Raphael noticed her own shaky hand. Gabriel. That was the last time she had actually slept, hadn’t it. Unfortunate.
The card got taken back: “I’ll relay that message. What about the people that truly wish to meet you?”
It didn’t seem like there was not much more going to happen, so she walked back towards her office – to actually sit, really, being sick sucked – “If you can’t deter them, tell me about some kind of priority patient. Just… text me, if it’s an appointment. I’m going to sit down now. Thanks, Amurel”
She didn’t actually wait for anything, just slipped back into the office, kept her attention on just the short distance she had to cross and then… slumped sideways into one of the armchairs.
Ridiculous spinning world.
Lets see how many people will have to get to her then.