Abharī and the Virtue of Patients

     “Just a sec,” replied the Hissi, as he deftly padded a Finger Splint with some Healing Gauze Pads on the Mutant Chomby towering over him. This always seemed to happen: Abharī had been interning at the Hospital for years, working towards his dream of becoming a full-fledged physician someday, so he was always pressed into service as a medic at sporting events. Performing first aid while wearing armour isn’t optimal, but his feathered fingers were experienced and nimble, and soon his Chomby patient was all patched up.

     Abharī retrieved his treasured Jeran Collector's Sword and sped towards the list field. I should make it just in time, he was thinking to himself.

     Then the shock wave hit. Abharī was thrown to the ground faster than his wings could break his fall. A moment of stunned silence was broken by the pealing of an all-too-familiar bell. Abharī recognised it from his many hours of emergency medical training as the tocsin of a Reserve Barracks. Something had happened, and sword practice would have to wait for another day. He retrieved his fallen sword, dusted it quickly before sheathing it, and took flight.

     Abharī extended both pairs of wings to level off and get a better view. Even in midair, at a distance, he could see a line of Neopets crowding around a series of tents, looking for all the world like an outlet NC Mall on the outskirts of Meridell. As a Faerie Hissi, his faerie wings augmented his regular wings, allowing a certain elegance in flight, which he now put to use to bullet towards the makeshift hospital. A grim smile crossed his face at the sight of Nurse Glee. If she was here, things were serious, but would be under control.

     Nurse Glee’s face relaxed at the sight of Abharī, then resumed its usual expression of friendly but disciplined focus. “Abharī, good to see you. Gloves and masks are below the cabinet.” She flicked her trunk towards the equipment.

     “What’s going on? Another Void monster outbreak? I thought there was a break in the fighting.”

     “The fighting may have stopped, but the grey hasn’t. I’m afraid some royal magicians were overzealous in trying to be the first to bring a cure to King Skarl. I have plenty of help with the magical injuries, but you’re the only Neopet on hand with first responder training. I’ll triage the patients, but I need you to handle the medical first aid.”

     Abharī nodded, then swallowed. He had some field experience, but had always been assisting more trained professionals. It was time to put his skills to the test, and this time, it was possible someone’s life would be in his hands. He finished giving his hands a thorough scrub, donned his personal protective equipment, and set to work locating and organising the equipment scattered around him. He could already hear patients approaching.

     An imposing Grarrl approached, her flowery hat askew, her short arms cradling a young lavender Grarrl child. “Where is the doctor?” she roared. “My child needs a doctor!”

     “The doctors are on their way. My name is Abharī, and I have advanced first aid training. How can I help?”

     “Oh.” The Grarrl pressed her lips together, pulling her child closer. “I think, I think, I’d prefer to wait for a real doctor. I’ll just give Bartha some water while we wait. Bartha? Bartha!” The child’s head shook. “Bartha was just asking for some water, if you don’t mind.”

     “Ma’am.” The Hissi’s voice was quiet but controlled. “It’s true I’m not a doctor, but I’m asking you to trust me. Your child is Purple, yes? But she’s obviously pale. She’s breathing very fast. She’s only responding to loud verbal stimuli, and she was just asking for water? She’s showing signs of shock, which can be life-threatening. Will you please allow me to help?”

     The adult Grarrl’s gaze bored through the Hissi. “All right,” she relented. Abharī tapped the child’s shoulder, calling her name, and briefly flicked the child’s clawed toes. Grabbing a clipboard, he scribbled the child’s vitals and symptoms. Another Neopet, a Cybunny with an Elite Guard Cybunny Hat occluding his eyes, was poking his head into the tent. Abharī had to keep moving. He met the mother Grarrl’s eyes. “The good news is there’s no sign of blood loss or any obvious injury. But Bartha’s pulse is rapid and weak, and her skin is cold and moist. We’ll treat for shock. Please wrap her in these blankets, let her lie down, and let me know immediately if anything changes for better or for worse. And no water, even if she asks for it again. I’ll check back,” he paused to glance at his Wind Up Pocket Watch, “in five minutes. In the meantime, please fill in her name and age, and your name as well. What is your name, by the way? I didn’t catch it.”

     “Dhuoda,” she blinked, taking the blankets and clipboard. “Thank you, doc- … Thank you.”

     Abharī watched as Dhuoda swaddled her child, and then turned his attention to the young Cybunny who had finished entering the tent. The large, angled ears on top of the youth’s slender frame made it look like the Cybunny was straining to eavesdrop on the conversation. “Hello. Are you alone? Can I help you?”

     The Cybunny’s eyes grew moist. “My dad got lost. I don’t know where he is. The big Elephante nurse outside told me to come in here. She said you’d know what to do.”

     No pressure, Abharī thought to himself. “Okay,” he said, grabbing another intake form. “My name’s Abharī. I have advanced first aid training. Until your dad turns up, we’ll take care of you. What’s your name?”

     “Virgil,” the Cybunny answered with a slight grimace, “but I go by Vira. Like the villain,” Vira smiled, with the look of a teenager trying on a leather jacket for the first time. “My pronouns are they/them,” they added, adjusting their cap a little more askew on their head, scratching lightly where the brim pressed into the ear.

     Abharī nodded. “Got it. Mine are he/him. Correct me if I forget. How are you feeling?”

     “A little dizzy, I guess.” Vira paused, expecting the older Hissi to interrupt them, but he just looked at them appraisingly and jotted something down. “Well, I guess more than a little. I might’ve kinda tripped over the nurse’s trunk.”

     Abharī stifled a laugh. “Let me just check your vitals. Have you worn this cap before?”

     Vira nodded. “It’s my favourite. I wear it all the time because it’s so cool. I mean, it’s all right, I guess.” The Cybunny re-adjusted their cap.

     Abharī’s tongue tasted the air, as if hoping to smell a clue. “When’s the last time you ate?”

     Vira paused, calculating. “Maybe… a half an hour ago? They were selling Deep Fried Neggs at the festival. I maybe had two or three?”

     “Just two or three?” mused Abharī, resting his chin on his feathered fist.

     Vira glared, but without rancour. “Okay, fine, it was more like twelve. I was hungry. I’m a growing kid.”

     “A growing kid with Neggitus.” Abharī raised his wings in a comforting gesture. “Not to worry, there are simple remedies.” The Hissi quickly riffled through his supplies and located a Neggitus Injection. Vira’s careful veneer of cool composure switched to alarm.

     “Yeah, no, I’m not super good with… needles,” he gulped.

     Abharī’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, but there’s no ointment in my supplies, so an injection is all I’ve got. You’re having an allergic reaction, and I don’t want it to get worse. I’m sure this is what Nurse Glee sent you in for, so I need you to be brave. Okay?”

     “Is it going to hurt?”

     “A little, but just for a few seconds. Not as much as those ears are starting to.”

     Vira closed their eyes in resignation, stopping themself from scratching their increasingly reddening ears in mid-motion. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

     Abharī glanced at his watch. “Ms. Dhuoda? How’s our patient doing?”

     The Grarrl smiled from the corner. “Better. She’s breathing easier.” Abharī quickly took a new set of vitals and nodded in approval, to Dhuoda’s great relief. Abharī tasked her with continuing to monitor Bartha for another five minutes and returned to an anxious Vira.

     “Ready?”

     The Cybunny nodded through gritted teeth.

     “Some folks find it easier not to watch.” Abharī pinched a fold of skin on Vira’s shoulder, parting the fully Cybunny fur. “You’ll feel a pinch; try to hold still.” The Hissi carefully placed the needle at a 30-degree angle and administered the serum. Vira hissed through his front teeth but remained motionless. A few seconds later, Abharī removed the needle, dropped it in a sharps container, and gently massaged around the injection site. “You should start feeling better right away. How are those ears feeling?”

     Vira cocked his cap once more, resting the brim against his right ear. “Fine, I think.”

     “I can already see the swelling is going down,” began Abharī, when a lean and sinewy Kougra burst into the tent.

     “Virgil! There you are!”

     “Daaad, I’ve told you a million times, it’s ‘Vira,’” pouted the teenager.

     “Yes, yes, I’m sorry, I was just so scared when I couldn’t find you!” The Kougra hunched over, short of breath, his eyes darting to the tiny ball of cotton gauze dressing and the blue bandage that the Hissi had taped on Vira’s shoulder. “Is - are they okay?”

     Abharī looked up at the Kougra. “Just a mild case of Neggitus. A quick injection took care of it.” The Kougra raised a brow in surprise. “Now that you’re here, I’m happy to release them, if I can just get your signature here.” Abharī jotted down a few final notes on Vira’s patient form and handed it to their father. “You’ve got a brave kid here.”

     The Kougra tousled Vira’s ears, to the youth’s clear consternation and despite Vira’s ineffective attempt to repress a smile. He clasped a strong paw on Vira’s unbandaged shoulder and led them out of the tent. “I knew that already.”

     From the corner, Dhuoda watched as the tent flap closed. “That’s a good father.” She glanced down at her daughter. “Bartha’s awake and doing fine. Shall we head out?”

     Abharī frowned. “I don’t recommend it.” He quickly took a third set of vitals. “She’s stable and doing much better, but patients who have suffered shock can take a turn for the worse surprisingly quickly. Please, wait a little longer for the doctors to arrive. Besides, it sounds like it’s still chaotic out there –”

     A shriek, just outside the tent, cut Abharī off in mid-sentence. Indigo claws pierced through the temporary shelter’s walls as a Void Prowler slashed his way in, followed by the much larger serpentine form of a Void Wyrm. Dhuoda screamed in terror and reflexively covered her child.

     With a powerful rustling of his Faerie Hissi wings, Abharī leapt for his sword and alit in a defensive posture between the Void monsters and his patients. In a blur of thoughts, he was relieved that he was still wearing his Hissi Knight gear and Burst of Stars Armour, and momentarily conflicted about preparing to potentially do harm in his capacity as a first responder. No, no, this is self-defence, he resolved, and I have to protect my charges. He thrust his replica of Jeran’s Sword towards the Prowler, who ran in terror, retreating from the silvery blade.

     The Wyrm was not so easily cowed. Rearing up, it seemed to grow twice its size, filling the tent with roiling violet shadow. It sank its fangs downwards, but found no purchase as Abharī deflected the attack with his Champion’s Dragoyle Shield. Unfortunately, Abharī’s gear was designed for sport, not the Battledome. The Hissi’s fingertips writhed as void miasma curled around them, burning like Lemoran juice in a papercut, rankling with a sizzling electric smell. Abharī’s shield fell to the ground. Dhuoda gasped.

     Abharī dove to the ground, hoping to recover his shield, both his and his charges’ best defence. The Wyrm coiled its head back and snapped its head downwards, not trying to bite, but rather to pin down the armoured Hissi. This might have worked, but for two things: a Faerie Hissi has not one, but two pairs of wings, and this particular Faerie Hissi was wielding a sword. Faster than Dhuoda’s eyes could follow, Abharī flew in a backwards arc above the Wyrm and struck the Wyrm’s head with an overhead, gravity-assisted downward swing. The flat of Abharī’s blade made a satisfying, muffled thunk as it made contact, but the Void Wyrm was still standing. Enraged, the Wyrm lunged towards Dhuoda. Once again, Abharī flitted between the rampaging monster and his patient. Breathing heavily, he adopted a defensive stance, hoping for a second wind.

     “Need some help there, friend?”

     A strapping, square-jawed Buzz entered the tent. His costume identified him as a Defender of Neopia. “Found another rabbit here!” he shouted to someone outside. Within seconds, the Wyrm lay dazed in the Buzz’ muscular grasp. Abharī slumped, more relieved than he wanted to let on.

     Dhuoda found her voice. “Thank you, Mister…?”

     “Sergeant, Ma’am. Sergeant Brexis at your service. Is everyone okay in here?” he asked, noting the child clutched in her arms. Dhuoda nodded, not trusting her words.

     “And you, youngun,” he added, turning to Abharī, “nice job softening this one up for me.” He cast a quizzical eye at the Hissi. “Are you a knight, or a doctor?” he asked appraisingly.

     “Not quite halfway to either,” laughed Abharī. “Just doing what I can.”

     Brexis nodded, then smiled. “You should be safe now. Looks like you’ve got a fair few patients lined up outside. You ready to get back to work?”

     Abharī nodded.

     The next fifteen minutes felt like hours. Now that the Defenders of Neopia had dispatched the outbreak of Void monsters, injured Neopets began streaming in. With some help from Dhuoda, Abharī tended to various minor bumps and scrapes, splinted a few dislocations and sprains, and treated a couple of cases of heat exhaustion, filling pages and pages of documentation with updated vital signs. Cots and chairs filled with recuperating Neopets. Most Neopets were able to leave after a brief treatment, and the rest were in stable condition.

     But not every patient was so lucky. Abharī greeted a sporty-looking Garlic Kiko who had been quietly waiting, almost nodding off. Right away, the Hissi felt something was off. Tasting the air with his tongue, he smelled Fruit Grog instead of garlic. The Kiko seemed confused by simple questions, such as his name, but complained that his stomach hurt and he was thirsty. With increasing alarm, Abharī noticed that the Kiko’s breathing was too quick and shallow, and that as he checked the Kiko’s vitals, the Kiko’s skin was too hot and dry. The Kiko became agitated, and his pulse grew increasingly thready. Abharī was starting to ask if the Kiko had any allergies when the Kiko suddenly slumped to the floor, barely conscious. The patients resting nearby froze, unsure of what was happening.

     That brief moment of eerie quiet was suddenly interrupted as a Gold Techo barged into the tent, shoving other Neopets in line to the side. His clothes left no doubt that he frequented high-end boutiques. His eyes fixed on the stethoscope around Abharī’s neck, and he strode up, oblivious to the distressed Kiko at his feet.

     “This is RIDICULOUS,” stormed the Techo. “I have been waiting two hours for urgent medical attention. My neck was hurt terribly by these Voidlings, and you need to give me my prescription Dewberry Revivers immediately.” He punctuated his final words with a peremptory neck roll.

     Taking a long, slow breath, Abharī drew himself to his full height, beating his wings for an extra few inches above the ground. “No. No, I do not.” He pointed to a small white disc just below the Kiko’s bandage. “That is a Continuous Glucose Monitor (CGM) Patch. My patient,” he paused, realising this Techo had no business knowing the Kiko was on the verge of a diabetic coma, “is having a genuine medical emergency and you will wait.”

     “Dhuoda,” Abharī called, “toss me that small pink tube that looks like antacid tablets, and some water. Then please, go tell Nurse Glee we need transport for a DKA patient to the Hospital or the Healing Springs.” Ignoring the Techo’s offended grimace, the Hissi knelt and helped the Kiko swallow a glucose tablet.

     “How DARE you,” huffed the Techo, his skin fairly glinting with rage. “I happen to be a close personal friend of King Hagan. He will hear about this!”

     “That’s nice,” answered Abharī, not taking his eyes off the Kiko, who was already starting to perk up. “I happen to be working on a research project for Lord Darigan. He’ll hear about this as well.”

     Had Abharī bothered to look, he might have seen the Techo’s eye twitch. He did notice the Techo thrusting his palm towards him in the “talk to the hand” gesture. “I don’t have the time to deal with you,” bloviated the Techo. “Just give me my Dewberry Revivers and get out of my way.”

     “My apologies, friend,” interjected the resonant baritone of Sergeant Brexis from the doorway. “I thought we’d cleared out all the monsters earlier.” He took the protesting Techo by the arm. The nearby patients burst into applause.

     Abharī met the Techo’s gaze, then turned away and dissolved a Ginseng Popsicle into a Garlic Juice as the Techo was led outside. Handling the concoction to the recovering Kiko, he instructed, “Drink this slowly, and we’ll get you some more advanced care soon.”

     The superneopian returned and cradled the Kiko in his burly arms. “Not to worry, friend. You’re in good hands.” The spandex-clad Buzz paused in the doorway, then turned back to Abharī. “Our Techo friend was right about one thing. King Hagan will hear about this.” With a final wink, he disappeared.

     Abharī rested for a moment, then grabbed another clipboard, and documented his interactions with both the Kiko and the Techo. More patients were waiting. He glanced at his watch. He had been working for just over forty minutes. More patients were waiting.

     Much to Dhuoda’s relief, one of the doctors from the Hospital, a Yellow Blumaroo clad in surgical scrubs and a head mirror, finally arrived and gave her daughter a clean bill of health, with the caveat that she should bring her in if anything changed in the next few days. The Doctor left to check on Nurse Glee, leaving Abharī in charge again.

     The next hour passed smoothly, although Abharī missed Dhuoda’s company. To his surprise, both the Doctor and Nurse Glee entered the tent together. Maybe my shift is finally over, he hoped.

     “Son,’ said the Doctor, “we need to make a big ask of you.”

     “We have a patient who needs blood. You’ve donated blood before, and you’re a match. I know it’s been an exhausting day, but are you up to giving blood on top of everything else?”

     “Of course!” said Abharī. Nurse Glee was a skilled phlebotomist, and it seemed a fitting end to his shift.

     The Doctor glanced at Nurse Glee, who shook her head silently. “There’s one other thing. We have to ask you to keep working for one more shift.”

     Abharī’s heart sank. “You need me to keep working after giving blood?”

     The Doctor leaned in with the eagerness of a door-to-door salespet who hadn’t heard the word “no.” “I’m sorry, son, but the Peophin who was going to relieve you was reassigned. We’re on the outskirts of the incident. Things are much worse near the castle. Even Queen Fyora came out to assist at Illusen’s Glade.” He mopped his brow. “I’ll cover for you while you enjoy your Apple Juice and a Cherry Granola Bar. It won’t be so bad. You’ve already handled most of the trauma patients, and the line is tapering off.”

     “It’s a lot to ask,” said Nurse Glee softly. “Can we count on you?”

     Abharī picked up his sword and spun the grip. The glinting of the sword’s etching was reflected in miniature in the doctor’s head mirror. “You’ve got me for as long as you need me.”

     “Just promise me you’ll notify me if you start to fade.” Nurse Glee said in her most serious tone. “You’re no help to us if you become a patient too.” Abharī nodded.

     Later, a pint of blood low and staving off fatigue, Abharī finally dismissed his last patient, filled out his last form, and hung up his last clipboard. His usually crisp handwriting, while still legible, was showing signs of weariness.

     High on the wall above the clipboards hung an embroidered patch, a serpentine figure wrapped around a staff: the staff of Asclepius, the universal symbol for healing. To his blurring eyes, the staff appeared not unlike his sword, and he imagined not a serpent but a Hissi wrapped around the sword, wings spread like a caduceus. Sergeant Brexis’ words from earlier reverberated in his mind: Are you a knight, or a doctor?

     ¿Por qué no los dos? he thought to himself, chuckling softly.

     “All right, that’s enough!” Nurse Glee’s voice startled him out of his reverie. “You’ve put up a good fight, but you’re too tired to continue. Pack your things. I’m sending you home.”

     “No, I’m still good,” protested the Hissi, the weakness in his voice betraying him.

     “I’m telling you the truth: I love the courage you’ve displayed today. You’ve given everything you had, and more, today. I won’t forget this. But right now your place is home in bed. Go hole up and rest.”

     Abharī nodded, acquiescing to the nurse’s decision. Today he had taken a big step in his quest to become a doctor. Now it was time to light a candle, curl up with a good book, and await the dinner bell. Sword fighting practice would wait until tomorrow.

     The End.