Work Text:
Between exhaustion and drugs, I sleep like a baby. But i don’t feel better. In fact, i feel a million times worse. The burns are on fire, it hurts worse than when the grenade-esque blast of Rocky’s atmosphere hit me. I look down at my bandaged arm, to see it fresh and not full of gunk. That’s a good sign, right? What’s less of a good sign is the amount of tubes and wires attached to my body. I thought I was getting better. So why am I hooked back up to almost the same amount of medical junk as I was in the coma? My throat is dry, and swallowing hurts like a million fire ants. “C-“ I stop to cough, and the movement sends pain radiating from my arm to the rest of my body. “Computer, what’s wrong with me?” I ask, raspy. The skin in my throat seems to be irritated still.
“Right arm has sustained second and third degree burns, infection on right forearm, and high fever. Current treatment involves antibiotics, painkillers, sedatives, nutrients, and hydration”. Well. That’s a mouthful. That explains why I feel like I got thrown into Tau Ceti. Infection is bad. It’s like, the worst case scenario. The computer could handle most things, but I don’t know if it can handle this level of damage. Oh god, will I need a skin graft? I ask the computer, and its voice responds “If infection does not abate, skin graft will be necessary. Skin will be taken from the patients left thigh region and grafted onto right forearm.”
Oh. Oh god. I do not want that to happen.
Rocky is at his workbench, tinkering with his tools. It looks good as new. He shifts his attention to me once he realized that I am awake. “Robot arms do things to you arm while you sleep”. He pointed out, still twisting a component with a metal tool.
I look down at my arm again, imagining what it looked like underneath. “Yeah”, I swallow, out of fear, then I regret it due to the sore throat, “it’s not doing good. When humans are injured, keeping the wound clean is very important. But even if you do, sometimes it gets worse. It got worse”. A tear wells up in my eye. A mixture of pain and haunting numbness pulses exists simultaneously, and it scares me.
I can’t lose my arm. I don’t know if I could survive like that. Heck, Rocky has five arms and sometimes still struggles with space travel. What would I do if I was one arm down? Could I create a functioning prosthetic? Do we have enough supplies of the correct kinds? Grace, stop spiralling. I shake my head, and look back up to Rocky. “I can’t continue working until this heals. Not quickly, at least. If I do too much, the sickness will spread and I may- may lose my arm” I choke out. Tears start falling now. So much for snapping out of it.
Later that day, the arms decide we need to take the dead skin off of my wound. I am injected with enough pain medications to make me feel floaty, like I’m not in my own body. I feel out of it, watching from the ceiling. My legs and arms are strapped down by the Nanny Arms, and a scalpel starts scraping at the skin. My body thrashes, and the arms must decide that cannot do, because I pass out in an instant.
—-
I wake up, drowsy beyond belief. I was used to it, having taken the last day to rest and let my body take care of the infection. However, upon waking, I was met by the horrific sight of the medical arms holding my skin. I try to struggle, to move, to fight. But I’m strapped down to my bed. Bile rises in my throat and my legs start to kick, but the computer is faster than my immediate urge to throw up. “Consciousness detected, increasing sedative”. And suddenly, the world goes dark again.
——
The warmth seeps into my body. I feel floaty, and opening my eyes requires significant effort. Nooo, I mentally groan. Sleep is so nice. I want to stay asleep and warm.
But reality creeps back to my mind.
Oh GOD did I get a skin graft?
My eyes snap open, and I immediately look at my arm. It’s covered in bandages. Of course it is, idiot. Stupid sedated brain. I go to my thigh, and ice travels through my veins. It too is covered in bandages, clean and neat. I sit up quickly, fighting dizziness, and promptly throw up on the floor. I’m glad we aren’t in zero g, because that would be a nightmare to clean. But this feels like a true nightmare. “Computer, what…” I trailed off, staring on at my leg.
“Procedure successful. Infection gone, and skin graft completed.”
I know, this is going to help. I won’t lose my arm. But the stupid nanny arms operated on me! Without my consent! If Lokken is alive when I get back home, she will never hear the end of it.
I try to answer Rocky who has been calling my name, but I succumb to the drugs once more.
-
It’s been a few days since my surprise skin graft. I have been moving around very cautiously, because Earth is dying, darn it!
But I peek under the wound dressings, out of sheer curiosity today. I should not have looked. The sight of my skin in a mesh, covering raw flesh will haunt me for the rest of my life. Nausea creeps up on me again, but I have been taking anti nausea medications for this. No more cleaning up sick, it smells bad and it’s always been my least favourite part about teaching. Dealing with accidents. It hurts to move, and Rocky is endlessly curious about this process. Eridians, not having the same type of skin, was amazed by the fact we can regrow skin by taking healthy skin and slapping it on a wound. Like duct tape, but healing (as if duct tape couldn’t get better). But that doesn’t change the fact, that my skin feels weird. It’s stapled in place, which is still strange despite the amount of pain relief medication I take. Have you ever had a staple holding your skin on? Rocky hadn’t, so it was hard to describe my discomfort. But since I got touchy around the subject, he got the hint and stopped bringing it up.
But we keep going on. Earth is dying. We are the only people who can save it. I sit up, request my daily coffee and breakfast, and get ready to work. Time to check out Adrian air samples we nearly died for. But I have to avert my eyes every time I look at my arm. I’m not ready to face it yet without wanting to waste my breakfast.