The Mourning Pilgrimage

The Midnight Visitor

Dr. Cannenta POV

She had just finished settling the last resident, a little 4-year-old girl suffering from severe myocarditis, into her bed and had closed the door to the two-bedroom when she felt the call.

Althea sighed softly, making her way back up to her rooms via the private staircase accessible by a sliding fake wall. She checked the time on the old antique grandfather clock across from her office and frowned.

Knocking softly on the green olive wood door, she gets a soft affirmation. Opening it reveals her patron standing in front of the wall where her diplomas hung. The 30-year old coughs softly, earning the attention of the doctor.

"My Lord." She speaks softly, feeling her breathing starting to slow. She attempts to bow, before losing her balance, along with her breath, and crashing to her knees. Thanking the Gods for her foresight on replacing the wooden floor for carpet, she winces regardless at the stinging on her knees as she inclines her head. "What is it that brings you here?" The doctor's breathing gets labored before she feels a warm hand lifting up her chin to gaze into the welcoming gaze of her patron.

Warm, ice-blue, orbs gaze at her softly, assessing her before she is gently helped up and walked over to her chair. The man does not speak until they are both seated across from each other with his hand placed softly on her back, pressing down lightly over the middle of her spine.

"I came to tell you to expect a new resident soon, but it appears that it is not the only thing I am here for." The tone of his voice is a light scolding and the doctor flinches slightly. "Althea, you know your condition fluctuates depending on how much exertion you endure. If you do not take care of your own needs first, how do you expect to care for those under your watch?" Silence permeates the room at his question and he sighs. Shaking his head, he picks up a yellow manilla folder that she had failed to notice from the top of her desk. Keeping a hand on her back to help her get air, he opens the folder and takes out a few pieces of paper. "The patient is a 17-year old female being brought in from the private hospital in the residential area. Her name is Anna Venerus and she has stage four rhabdomyosarcoma of the left ventricle, aorta, and both valves, along with lung and trachea metastasis. Her oncologist gives her around six months but she'll make it at least another four-five years."

She takes the paper he gives her, eyes widening at the long list. "The poor girl," she mutters softly with a sharp gasp of pain as the hand on her back is finally removed. "I assume she can move independently with only help needed for bathing and feeding in case of aspiration?"

The nod she gets is hesitant, which causes her to tilt her head, inviting a reply with another piece of paper being placed in front of her, this one of a chest CT scan dated to only a few hours before. "You would be correct, however she will end up refusing any and all help if she feels that it is too demeaning. Therefore I recommend having a nurse with her when she eats. Not to help her if she doesn't wish for it, but just to be sure she doesn't end up choking or aspirating. As for bathing, I assume you still have the chair I gave you a few years ago?" Standing to recline back onto her desk, he tilts his head as she nods. "Good. She had a similar one at home so she is able to bathe herself. She will, however, need help getting in and out of it, as well as slight help for dressing."

Althea hums softly, "she's independent, that's a bit troublesome."

"Indeed. Have a nurse check on her every half hour, she won't ask, or say, for help unless directly asked. However, it's best to phrase it as inconspicuous as possible, and avoid using the word help if at all possible."

The doctor bows her head slightly, clearing her throat before swallowing heavily. "I assume she will need Respite Care?"

The pause that follows goes on for far longer than she can stand, and she rises from her chair before carefully going around to the large fireplace in the center of the back wall. Lighting the fire, she soaks in the warmth for a few seconds before she hears the response at her back. "For now." The tone makes her pause before she turns around, only to find her patron standing a few feet behind her with a guarded expression.