@finesc4lpel
with the world in the state it currently was, a little cut could - if unlucky ... mean the end. hygiene was at an all-time low, antibiotics or anti-inflammatory meds were scarce & would eventually cease to exist if they didn't find a way to create their own & people would die. luckily, they had a little stash of meds going & had only needed very little. the group was growing, but ... it was still small enough to keep the risk for potential injuries low.
but superficial injuries weren't all that plagued them. sleeping in the worst possible places when out on runs, or even the mattresses & mats in their tents were ... not ideal, but he wouldn't complain per se. it beat sleeping on the ground. & yet, elijah ... struggled a bit this week.
the cold was beginning to become his greatest enemy in this all, which - given they were surrounded by the undead in a world void of law & order, meant quite a bit. elijah struggled on a good day, their set up here not exactly comfortable in the first place, but even worse when the cold was just waiting to seep into his bones whenever he said or laid down at night. unfortunately, he hadn't found a way around sleep just yet, which meant he'd heaved his body towards the infirmaries, desperately hoping for either of them to be present, because if he didn't get pain relief within the next thirty minutes, he would ….flip.
hand on his back, brows furrowed… sore back, sore neck, sour mood. thankfully, most seemed to still be asleep when he woke, so he at least got to avoid the attention. he really didn't want anybody to know he was struggling. the door was ajar when he got there, so elijah snuck inside & found the infirmary empty, so he dropped himself on the makeshift “bed” & waited, hint of a smile on his lips when the man he's been hoping for turned up. “hey doc, i uh… really need your help. my back's really not likin' the cold.”