>>3 >>4 Thanks, you two. And, trust me, I have a history of making things very depressing. Crits welcome, as always ________________________ "On a scale of one to ten, how is ze pain?" Benjamin didn't hesitate for long before answering with a strained, "eleven." The doctor just looked at him for a moment- seemed to appraise him. It was difficult to tell, though; the man had a gaze like Antarctic ice- sharply cold, and seemingly impenetrable. If the eyes were the portals to the soul, then this man had locked the windows, and closed the shutters tight. His expression revealed nothing as he clicked his pen to write a note on the patient file on his clipboard. "Zhis happens often?" the Medic questioned, adjusting his round-rimmed glasses briefly before lifting his gaze to look at Benjamin, again. The Texan almost wished he hadn't. "Every now and again," the Engineer replied, "usually not this bad, though." No, it was usually just a tingling- or perhaps a dull ache, at worst- not the sharp, crushing sensation tormenting him as he sat on the exam table in RED base's infirmary. It was a terrible feeling, and not just because of the physical agony; it was a reminder of what had happened. It had happened lightning fast- but, at the time, it had felt like slow motion. The metallic crack of the jack giving way had been almost deafening, and the Texan's brain had scarcely processed the sound before over a ton of steel had come down on his arm. For a moment, nothing felt different, and the redhead had caught himself wondering if he had lucked out, and the truck had just missed him. His hopes were dashed, however, as the initial shock faded, and was rapidly replaced by the sensation of the crushing, stabbing pain shooting up and down his arm. He reflexively tried to jerk the limb towards his body only to discover that, yes; it was well and thoroughly pinned to the concrete floor. The man couldn't hold back a scream of pain, or the tears starting to sting at his eyes. There was nobody in the house to hear him, though- not with Madeline and the kids out of town for the day. They wouldn't be back for hours. To top it off, the garage door was closed to keep out the heat of the day, leaving him well out of sight of any passers-by. That did not, however, keep the man from trying to yell for help as loudly as he could, in the hopes that anyone walking by might hear- if there was anyone walking by. No help arrived, though, and Benjamin's voice was getting hoarse. Really, why would anyone in the little town answer the pleas of a 'dirty Commie'? He was left, however, with a clear view of the clock hanging in his garage- left to watch as seconds became minutes, and the minutes dragged on to well past an hour. It hadn't taken even that much time for the fingers on his right hand to start tingling, and burning, before feeling chill, and then completely numb. By the time the second hour was rolling around, the redhead's arm was not only still in agony, but the rest of him was starting to hurt from lying on the concrete floor. It was hard to find a comfortable position when one's arm was pinned beneath a truck. He tried to comfort himself with the fact that his wife would be home in another four hours, and if he had managed to stay alive for two, then he'd surely last until then. The most difficult thing, by far, had been trying not to pass out. Benjamin's vision had started to go gray around the edges once or twice- but he had managed to snap himself back to attention. He was glad he did, because he finally heard the sound of someone outside. He could hear a basketball bouncing on the sidewalk, drawing closer, and when it was right in front of the driveway, the man felt as though he'd used all the breath in his lungs to manage one last, hoarse yell for aid. Apparently, he had used a little too much air in his condition, because everything went black. Whoever was outside must have thought to open the garage door and peer in, though. How else would he have woken up surrounded by doctors? "Herr Wallace," the RED doctor said, snapping the Texan out of his thoughts and back to base's infirmary- and its caretaker. "Vhat methods of pain control did your previous physicians prescribe?" The truth was they had tried almost everything. "Morphine," the Engineer started. "Worked for awhile, but once the post-op pain was done… well, it didn't do much." He gave a small, tense sigh, trying to focus on the question, and not the throbbing pain in his right arm- in flesh and bone that no longer existed. "Codeine," he continued. "They tried ice packs, heated pressure bandages'n even massage." None of it worked, though- not very well, at least. "Vhat about an electric current?" the German inquired, his tone and expression unreadable. The only indication of concern (or, perhaps, morbid curiosity) was the content of his question. "Heard some of th'docs in Dallas mention somethin' like that," Ben said with a little shrug, trying to seem politely indifferent. It was difficult to get his hopes up after such a long string of disappointing failures, and he was a little wary. After all, Doctor Engel wasn't bound by most of the ethical restrictions that were imposed on physicians working outside of the company. The Medic gave a little nod, and quietly excused himself for a moment. He walked over to one of the infirmary's many supply cabinets, and unlocked one of the drawers to remove a hinged metal box. He brought it over to the exam table, and set it down before undoing the hasps, and opening the lid. Benjamin couldn't help but peer inquisitively at its contents- a black plastic box with dials on it for regulating electrical current (frequency, amplitude, amps, volts- a rather complex setup), and four leads with electrodes on the end of them. The little device didn't look terribly intimidating- the amperage rating printed on it didn't go anywhere near high enough to be fatal. The Engineer was still wary, but growing increasingly curious as the box and its leads were removed, and set on the table. "Well, Doc," the Texan started, "I must admit you have me stumped." "Zhese are fairly new, Herr," Engel replied. "You might even say somewhat experimental. It's a TENS unit- transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation. Zhey have shown promise in trials vhiz ze treatment of chronic pain." The Engineer couldn't help but wonder if that was what the doctors several months had been referring to. He had never heard them use the term 'TENS', though, nor had they attempted using one of the things. The man tried to tell himself that maybe those 'promising trials' were new enough that the doctors wouldn't have had reason to even consider a TENS. "It's painless," the Medic continued, "but it might be a little uncomfortable. If you vant to try, zhat is." Benjamin didn't hesitate for very long before giving stiff, pained nod. At that point, he wouldn't have minded if the leads were jabbed right through his skin- it couldn't have hurt worse than his arm. "Alright, Herr," Engel said with a little nod of his own. "I'm going to need you to take off your glove, bitte." *** "I'm going to need you to take off your shirt und glove, bitte," the Medic stated, adjusting his glasses just a little as he picked the stethoscope up from the supply cart to drape it over his shoulders. Benjamin had managed to avoid taking off either his shirt or glove thus far. He had stalled some- trying to strike up small talk, trying to distract the doctor. It was a foolishly futile gesture, he knew- but, anything to delay the inevitable. He couldn't dodge the Medic forever, though, and the intake exam was, he had been assured, very necessary. No sense making things too difficult for someone just trying to do their job. He still hesitated, however, before complying with the German's request. The Texan was still hesitant, however- taking his time in using his left hand to un-tuck the sleeve from the thick leather work glove covering his right. Engel just stood there waiting patiently- or impatiently- it was hard to tell. Benjamin cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly, and hesitated for just a moment more before carefully tugging the glove free, and setting it on the exam table. The doctor's gaze shifted to the redhead's right hand, but, given his expression, he seemed unfazed by the steel appendage. "Your shirt, bitte," the Medic said, raising his eyes once again to the younger man's face. Benjamin wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or unnerved that the doctor made no comment on his hand- seemed to be ignoring it, altogether. Regardless, he did start to unbutton his shirt, causing the German's gaze to be drawn right back to his hands. As subtle as the doctor was trying to be, it was obvious that he was watching- observing how the joints of those metal fingers extended and flexed. Once the Engineer had his shirt off, however, there was considerably more to see. Engel glanced once more to his metal hand, and his gaze drifted up the length of the prosthesis to where it terminated, at mid-bicep. The rig was heavy- considerably heavier than a human arm should be- and the redhead had compensated for it by attaching a harness that spread the weight between both of his shoulders. The Medic hesitated only a moment before inspecting the harness- checking, no doubt, to see if the padded leather was harming the skin. "Vould you mind," he started, "taking zhis off, Herr? I vant to make sure it's not causing any irritation." "Uh," the Texan started, still somewhat wary of the prospect, "sure doc." It didn't take him long to get the buckles of the harness undone, and the straps slid loose. Once the weight was off of the tops of his shoulders, however, it all pulled at what remained of his right arm. "I can get you somezhing to rest your arm on, Herr," the German offered, no doubt noticing the way his patient's weight shifted as the harness was removed. Benjamin, however, just shook his head. He didn't really want this to take any longer than it had to- and, besides, "it don't hurt, s'just a bit uncomfortable. Starts t'ache if I leave if like this for an hour or two, though." The older man gave a small nod, a gesture that didn't seem to match his cold expression (or lack thereof) at all. The Engineer wasn't sure whether it put him at ease, or only made him more wary. Regardless, he tried to keep still as the doctor checked over his skin. The man seemed satisfied, at least- then again, the harness had been specifically designed to prevent the sort of irritation that was being looked for. "Everyzhing looks good," Engel said with another nod, leaning back just a little to stand up straight, again. He did steal another glance, however, to the thick, circular, metal base plate that the prosthesis attached to. The plate was also thoroughly attached to what remained of the Texan's flesh and blood right arm. "I don't see any signs of infection," the doctor started, "but I vant to double-check your lymph nodes, and ze bloodvork to be certain." Fortunately for the Engineer, everything seemed to check out- he had no swollen lymph nodes, no inflammation- nothing at all, really, that would indicate an infection of any kind. He would also have been lying if he said he wasn't impressed by how professional the Medic was. The man only asked for medically necessary information; whether there was any pain or numbness, where and how the base plate attached, and a list of all of the materials in the arm- and their approximate percentages. An x-ray was taken as well. Once the doctor had checked the placement of the hardware- felt reassured that there was no danger of the bone degrading or fracturing- his focus seemed to leave the metal prosthesis entirely. The rest was, in truth, a very standard exam- temperature, height, weight, reflexes- that sort of thing. A little blood sample was taken at the end, and that was that. Now, the Engineer had only to go back to his job, and that seemed simple enough.