InsaneJournal

Current mood:	working
Entry tags:	alec/bastian, chicago, interaction

Civilian
Since moving to Chicago, Bastian had alternated between going to the local VA hospital and a public institution for his medical care. As a veteran, he felt comfortable enough dealing with military doctors, especially when it came to his leg, but sometimes he didn't feel like spending all day sitting in a waiting room rehashing his days as a Marine with boys young enough to be his sons. So over he'd trundle to the nearest hospital, parking his truck in the pay lot before taking the elevator downstairs to the big reception area.

The Cajun was sitting in a molded plastic chair reading an outdated issue of Time magazine, picking the order forms out of his lap as they fell out from between the pages. Just a routine checkup for the most part, although he expected to hear more about the bits of metal in his calf. He fully intended to have the shrapnel removed, just not until after the boxing tournament. If he stood a chance of losing some mobility in the limb, he wanted to make the most of the full capacity of it while he could.

"Mr. Sonnier?" Bastian looked up over the edge of the magazine, glancing towards the receptionist. "Dr. Reed will see you now. You can just go on back." The big carpenter got up from the chair, leaving Time behind. He hitched his pants on the way past the desk, his wallet chain jingling as he walked. He wasn't really wild about hospitals, but this was a necessary thing.

"And remember just because the cast on your arm is solid that doesn't mean your head is," Alec muttered to the patient he was finishing up with. The kid was only 15 and big into skateboarding, but Alec figured it didn't hurt to say considering the skate-fanatic had already been in three times this week to have his cast fixed. He ushered the teenager out and turned his eyes to the man approaching.

Alec held out his hand. "You must be Mr. Sonnier? I'm Dr Reed. I apologise for the wait, it's been a busy day."

"Is nuh problem. Was t'inkin' I'd be late because of traffic. A wait give me time to catch my breath." Bastian shook the doctor's hand amiably, nodded at the kid who passed him on his left.

He hadn't seen a civilian doctor since the last one had told him the shrapnel in his leg should come out, had gone back to the VA for a second opinion. Dr. Reed seemed to be about his age, and after a moment he decided the guy was likely competent at his job. He'd always had issues with the medical profession, his current situation was just an offshoot of that.

"Glad you got time to see me on short notice. I get a referral to come here from Mercy Hospital, dey say good people here."

Alec gestured for Bastian to sit down, reaching over to where Mr. Sonnier's file was sat, Mercy hospital had sent copies across so this consultation would be easy on both patient and doctor.

"We like to think so as well," Alec said with a smile. He glanced at the file and the referral note left within. "You're here about an old injury, is that correct?"

The Cajun settled himself into the chair with a muted grunt. "Yeah," he said with a nod. "Near de end of my tour overseas, I catch some blowback from an explosion and end up with pieces of metal buried in my left leg. Was able to get some of it removed 'fore I come home, but dey ship me back Stateside before military doctors can take all de pieces out. Some still in de muscle."

He tugged at the leg of his pants, lifted it away from the flesh. Scar tissue dotted his calf, white indentations where the original wound had taken place. "Couple years ago, was seein' civilian doc for somethin' else, an' she say de last of it should come out. But I nuh sure if it damage t'ings, you know. Was hopin' you tell me if it leave my leg like it is."

Alec nodded his head, taking in everything Bastian had to share as he read over the notes and made mental ones of his own. "Let's take a look." Alec placed the file down, slid over to where the other man was and lifted his leg into his lap. Alec furrowed his brow in thought as he sought out the pieces still embedded in the muscle, feeling out their size with his fingertips. "They feel quite close to your Gastrocnemius, which is the muscle here," Alec elaborated by pressing down on a part of the muscle, away from the shrapnel. "But I can't be certain of how close until I've seen x-rays. That could cause a problem."

He looked up at Bastian. "The question is, if you did have the option of getting it removed, would you want to go down that route?" He needed to know how willing the patient was before he started making arrangements.

"I watch those medical programs," Bastian said, feeling a little abashed about his dirty shoes coming in contact with the doctor's clean scrubs. "De ones on cable 'bout mishaps an' stuff? I think, you know, what if somethin' gets jarred loose? It mebbe not happen so much, but it happen. I don' want to be in de grocery store one day an' drop dead 'cause somethin' shifted around without me knowin' it."

He was aware of how it sounded, that he was probably coming across like some cracker who'd never seen the inside of a schoolroom before, but he did have his worries about it. "I got a pretty active life is de other side of the coin," he added. "Stand up mostly all day for work, do some boxin' for fun, like dat. I don' know if gettin' an operation would interfere. You a surgeon, or just diagnose?"

Alec nodded along, giving a small smile. "Which is understandable. None of us want to drop dead and I assure you that we have the best surgeons with a very keen eye for their work. I'd swear by them." And he would, they were some of the best he'd worked with so far in his medical career.

"I simply diagnose, make the judgment on my side and then refer to a surgical consult to see what they think would be the best option. I'm always reluctant to refer to surgery if the problem can be dealt with in another way, but in your case I do believe that surgery would be the only avenue available if we're looking at removing all the shrapnel."

Bastian brought his foot back to rest on the tiled floor, rubbed at the back of his leg before adjusting his pants to cover the scars. "I got good insurance," he told Alec. "An' get a little check from de Washington boys ever' month. I keep up with money real good, you know? Not be a problem when de bill come due."

He'd always been self-conscious about the subject of money, but he knew hospitals and doctors could get expensive. "I put all my current information in dat file, so I easy to get in touch with when you hear back from your other people."

Alec picked up Bastian's information and made some notes of his own, specifically highlighting the areas where the shrapnel was located. "I don't doubt that you've got good insurance." Whilst the United Stateshealth-care was good at what it did, it did have a major flaw as far as not having a nationalised health service as seen in countries like the United Kingdom, it meant care was given out on insurance and if you didn't have insurance then you were looking to spend your time at a free clinic.

The good doctor Reed was considering volunteering at a free clinic, to see if he could help those he didn't see on a day to day basis.

"What I'll do is take everything I have in your file and refer to one of the surgeons we have on staff here, see what they say and if for any reason I need to bring you back in for a consultation with them I'll give you a call. How does that sound?"

Bastian's calf muscle twitched, and he rubbed at it unconsciously as if it itched. "I appreciate you seein' me on short notice," he told Alec. "Nothin' against de VA, but civilian docs worry less 'bout military regs. Guess I got to start makin' plans for after tournament stuff."

Surgery. He still remembered the gauzy feeling of waking up in an army hospital, his leg swathed in bandages from the knee down. He might even have to go back to PT to get the limb back up to par. Still, it would be worth it to get the last of the metal out of his flesh. Scars were permanent, the original cause of the injury didn't have to be.

"Was good to speak wit' you." He held his hand out for the doctor to shake, thinking that for a man of medicine he didn't seem inclined to look at his patients as if they were just case numbers. "Glad I got more or less good news, too. You have a nice day, huh?"

Alec made one last final note on Bastian's file, more a reminder for himself than anything else, then rose to his feet. He gave the other man a smile nothing short of genuine and charming, taking a hold of his hand and giving it a firm shake. "You too, Mr Sonnier. I'll be in touch shortly, I promise." Alec hated to keep his patients hanging around.

"It was a pleasure to meet you."

The Cajun left the examining room in a much less apprehensive mood than he'd been in earlier, giving the receptionist a cheery wave as he crossed the waxed floor. It seemed that life was going to be kind to him about this, which was a relief.

Maybe a good omen had crossed his path without him even knowing it.