The Economics of Healers: Farmers, part 2

[sythyry]

Mirrored from Sythyry.

On the ride into Vheshrame, Ellie herself was putting as brave a face on it as a 12-year-old could be expected to. (And yes, they did ride. It would have been a ridiculous walk for an injured child, and zir parents didn’t think zie could stay on a horse. The mayor, Gorsen, did lend them her own carriage, and no questions asked. Remember that, at least, when you judge Gorsen.)

“We’ll get a healer to make it better,” promised Periwinkle.

“It’s all right, sather. It doesn’t hurt so very much,” said Ellie, and burst into tears.

And, again:

“You mustn’t blame Cayenne,” said a very ashamed Tansy. “He’s far too young to know better. I am the responsible one — I let him slip away from me, and of course I grabbed badly when you fell.”

“I don’t blame you, either, caunt Tansy,” said Ellie. “You were trying to save me. But I do wish you had let go. I don’t want to go around all lopsided and missing an antenna.” She knew what the quintet’s finances were like.

“Oh, poor child,” said Tansy, and burst into tears. This of course set Ellie off again, and that got Cayenne crying as well.

In all ways, it was probably the Worst Carriage Ride Ever, or at least the worst one in which nothing actually went wrong, as well as the Worst Birthday Party Ever.

In the Guild Hall

Estertherio oa Estropomp, the Summoner of the Healer’s Guild and herself a master-healer of the lowest rank, finally deigned to see Ellie as a patient. By “finally” we must admit that Ellie had been waiting for five hours, since mid-afternoon, and that a dozen patients had been seen before her. In Estertherio’s favor we must admit that Estertherio had chosen to see to the eight people injured in a flour explosion, most of whom were actively bleeding — if not actively showing off their private parts. In a way that titillated nobody, since those private parts were intestines, spleens, stomachs, and the like. We must also admit that Estertherio chose to dine before seeing Ellie rather than after, which may seem callous. And arguably she could tell at a glance that Ellie was in no immediate danger. Or arguably it was an act of selfishness, as Ellie and another half-dozen much-belated patients complained.

Estertherio granted Ellie a mere nine minutes of her time. “Well. You got a nasty knock on the head, but someone dumped enough crude healing spells on you so that you don’t really need any further magic for that. Then there’s that missing antenna. Do you have the severed antenna with you?”

“I do,” said Allam.

Estertherio picked it up out of Allam’s basket, and looked at it. “You would have been well-advised to preserve it. A simple meat preservation spell would have sufficed.”

“We’re village Herethroy, doctor,” said Allam. Meaning, of course, that they cannot and do not eat meat, and so unlikely to have meat preservation spells.

“Well. Should this ever happen again, be sure to look up a Cani, or an Orren, or even a Rassimel or Gormoror or Sleeth. If you had put a preservation spell on it even two hours after it was severed, it would be a great bit easier to reattach. As it is, it is a spell of complexity thirty to reattach it, and a second and stronger one to actually get it to work,” said the doctor.

“Can you do it?” asked Allam.

“What, I? Even if I had any cley left after that explosion, I don’t have the spell. It’s not that common. Can you pay for it? You must expect a hundred lozens to reattach it, and, if you are lucky, a thousand or two to restore function.”

“That’s a great deal of money for me,” said Allam. “Are there charities who might help us?”

“There are charities, to be sure, and there are healers who may be sympathetic and undercharge you. In all honesty, I doubt that they will help you,” said Estertherio. “This is little more than a cosmetic injury. Your cosi, having one antenna left, has lost some sensory acuity, and some attractiveness, and some expressiveness, but zie has not lost all. Zir life is hardly in danger, nor is zir ability to take care of herself. Charities and sympathies are largely reserved for more serious cases.”

“My poor cosi! … I suppose we must ask those healers who are capable, and see if any of them will help us,” said Allam.

“I wish you would not. They are our strongest healers, and, in full truth, they have better things to do than cosmetic surgery,” said Estertherio. She did not need to finish the phrase: on a poor and low-class farmer’s cosi. “Still: the healers who can do this are Moika Hastralan, who is on duty in this very hall; Dr. Tarnamme, and Dr. Vesputine, whose whereabouts I do not know but they might still be in their offices around town, and, on the odd chance that zie is around and you are transaffectionate, Dr. Sythyry.”

“We’ll go see Dr. Hastralan, then. Thank you for your time and your candor,” said Allam, rather devastated.

“Well, you certainly have my sympathies,” said Estertherio. “Be grateful that the situation is not too dreadful, and unlikely to get any worse.”

Comments

[delight-in.livejournal.com]

Awww poor cosi! I was wondering if they were even going to try to get her antenna reattached after what happened and with them not knowing how to preserve the antenna and all poor little kid.

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

They certainly tried. Oh, and I didn't mention it, but Estertherio did all the recommended non-magical things to take care of Ellie (which are, say, the difference between a headache for a few days, and not) while she was talking.

[delight-in.livejournal.com]

So she wasn't completely useless and hard-hearted just mostly?

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

I wouldn't call someone who had spent her day taking care of the dying and the terribly-injured either "useless" or "hard-hearted".

[brynndragon.livejournal.com]

Huh, I'd've said she was being completely honest rather than giving them false hope, which is useful at the very least. (even monsters debate over whether it's more compassionate to be efficiently honest or to allow someone hope, given that no matter how much expertise a healer has anything is possible in medicine)

[ionotter.livejournal.com]

Talk about bad timing!

I've been under the care of our version of Summoners more than I'd have liked, and I was usually fortunate that they weren't quite so busy as Estertherio.

There was that one time, though. The Summoners were quite busy, and I was merely in pain, but not screaming or writhing. It was a quiet, dull sort of stabbing pain that made you desire nothing so much as to remain quite still and very quiet. And so I was. I'd wheeled my chair to a quiet spot in the waiting area, and was watching one of our vacuous entertainment devices. I wondered if I was going to be attended that evening, and considered what I might do to speed things up a bit.

"Well, I suppose I could fake 'posturing'?" I thought.

Posturing is the body's response to grievous, horrifying damage that signals impending death. One simply starts curling up into the fetal position, pulling one's limbs in close and hunching over. Which, upon considering it, I'd been doing for over an hour.

"Oh crap. I am posturing."

Not a minute later, and none too soon, I was noticed and whisked in for evaluation. By morning, I was one appendix lighter, sporting several tubes carrying healing fluids going into my veins, one coming out of my privates to carry away the bloody urine, and one going into my nose carrying oxygen.

It seemed that my recalcitrant and ultimately suicidal appendix had gone out in a blaze of fecal glory, and my insides were in grave danger of following it's lead. After a month of fevers, examinations by tropical disease specialists, discovering I was allergic to the medicine that was supposed to be saving my life, and several examinations by way of devices that can see through several inches of lead, I was once again, whole.

More or less.

Yet despite my adventures, the thing I recall most, was laying on the bed and waiting to be examined. I could hear much of what was going on in the triage area, and a few beds down, I could hear the steady beeping of some other unfortunate soul's monitoring device. Each beep signaled another beat of their heart, and therefore, another moment of precious life. A few minutes later, I heard those individual, hopeful beeps change into an ominous, single, *EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*.

The triage area became a flurry of activity. I could hear the harsh thumps of emergency devices being used to alter the ominous tones of limbo and inevitable doom, to the more hopeful individual beeps. A nurse came into my room in a rush, and said, "Don't worry, we haven't forgotten you, we'll be right with you!"

To which I replied, "Don't worry. They're dying now, I'll die later."

I waited patiently for death, but they were a no-show.

I cannot say I was disappointed.

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

I am glad death stood you up that time! May it continue to do so, until such time, if ever, as you truly require its attentions.

But yes, our guild has the analogous days. There is never quite enough to take care of the current emergencies, and always the imperative that we save a bit for the next one as well.

[chipuni.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad that you were abridged safely and successfully.

(Isn't a book without its appendix called "abridged"? Why wouldn't that term work for people, too?)

[kensan-oni.livejournal.com]

.... Loosing an Antanee should be like loosing an eye! Or a nose! It should be Very Serious Matters, shouldn't it?

... I mean, still not as serious as "Hey, I am dying because some fool lite the Flour House on fire, and I got lucky enough to live", but still!

[kensan-oni.livejournal.com]

I mean Losing! not Loosing! I don't think Attanee are suppose to be Loose!

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

It is about like losing an eye or an ear; it is indeed a serious matter. Any healer would want to repair it. But most would wait until just before dawn on a day they had cley left over, and would charge the standard guild fee for it. To do otherwise would invite a certain amount of glaring and growling from the guild, or, if one were unlucky, a certain amount of scrambling to make up for the missing cley in a bad situation where it could have helped.

Silly Ideas

[terrycloth.livejournal.com]

I guess a simple meat-freshening spell wouldn't help replace a missing meat-preserving spell?

Or the spell to create a dead duplicate of your body so that you could take bits from it to transplant? I guess that might make a version that was also missing an antenna.

Re: Silly Ideas

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

All of these are possible! The standard approach is as easy as any other, though, and easier than most. That's why it's standard.

Re: Silly Ideas

[delight-in.livejournal.com]

But a meat-freshening spell is as easy as a meat-preserving spell so if casting a freshening spell on her antenna would work as well as if it had been preserved in the first place wouldn't that make reattaching it easy again?

[archadia.livejournal.com]

I am kind of surprised that the doctor suggested that people would have to be transaffectionate for you to treat them. I did not think this was the case.

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

It's not at all the case! When I'm working as a healer, I heal anyone, following either the guild rules or the urgencies of the moment.

But if you want special treatment from me, well, I am generally thought to particularly favor traff-folk (which is true), and especially those who are willing to put out (I do not take advantage of patients!).

It's not really a very good reputation, but I come by it honestly.

[archadia.livejournal.com]

So I was right in thinking that the doctor did suggest you were biased that way via her comments? I am hoping you had a word with her.

[tuftears.livejournal.com]

Hm, I did not know being transaffectionate was a prerequisite of being seen to by Dr. Sythyry! Perhaps Estertherio was just snarking at our esteemed lizard.

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

Not a prerequisite, but it definitely helps if one is trying to get favors from me. (Or Favors, though those are a lot harder to get (alas))

[tuftears.livejournal.com]

I see! ^_^ I would have suspected you would simply charge a lot of money to see a patient.

[goodluckfox.livejournal.com]

Is there a World-Tree equivalent to a "stasis box?" We've been working on the idea for a while. You could put the injured child into the stasis box where no (or very little) time would pass while the doctors wait for a more opportune time to heal her. "Wow, today was remarkably devoid of disasters and we have lots of cley left. Let's break out the little bug child and fix her since we have nothing better to do."

(It would also be pretty handy for the *extremely* greviously injured).

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

The Seriously Slow Section -- a day inside is three months outside -- would do for that. But I don't know how to make enough so that every village has one -- new villages are grown faster than I can make SSS's.

[stormydragon.livejournal.com]

Perhaps you could make a mobile stasis box that could be summoned (along with a healer) to a village. The healer could then stabilize the injured and put them in the stasis box for transport back to the healer's guild in the nearest major city. This would also help deal with major emergencies like the flour explosion, as if one city gets overwhelmed, it could use the box to send people to nearby cities that are currently less burdened.

[stormydragon.livejournal.com]

It occurs to me that it would be a great thing to build a hospital with the emergency receiving room inside the slow quarter. Then in an emergency, even if one had to wait several hours to be seen by a healer, it would only be a minute or two for the injured, decreasing their chance of dying in the waiting area.

[sythyry.livejournal.com]

That's clever!