O'Hara's lips opened and closed, then opened again. She braced her hands on the plastic railing of Althea's bed and began to explain.
"Darling… I'm afraid that actually happened. You're at All Saint's Hospital. I'm Doctor O'Hara. We've been treating you for the past twenty-four hours."
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Althea laughed lightly.
"I knew the wine bottle symbolized something." She whispered manically. "Did they arrest the man?"
She looked up at Doctor O'Hara expectantly.
O’Hara frowned a bit, checking something in the IV fluid bag next to Althea’s bed. “I’m not sure,” she said a bit absently. Did someone else adjust her morphine levels?
She looked back down at Althea’s face. “I’m sorry, but I truly wouldn’t have any idea. That’s not my side of things.”
Althea nodded.
"I hope they didn't," she said honestly, "He was just trying to protect his family."
The doctor blinked quickly. “I don’t think many people in your case would have the compassion to say such things,” she remarked. “But you could have seriously been hurt. And it was a wine bottle he hit you with. Don’t you think he could have been under the influence?”
"Well," Althea said quietly. "If he was, I suspect he probably feels guilty enough…hopefully."
She then flexed her fingers on her left hand. "Hopefully."
The doctor arched her eyebrows briefly. “There’s a lot riding on that ‘hopefully.’” She noted the action and reached instinctively to hold the woman’s left hand. “When did your hand start hurting?” she asked.
"Right after I woke up." Althea said and looked around. "How long have I been here?"
“Twenty-four hours,” O’Hara repeated. She frowned as her eyes caught on Althea’s stitches and the blossoming bruise on the woman’s jaw. The stitches were fine – O’Hara had done them herself – and the bruise was only surface-level and nothing more. So why was the woman’s hand now in pain?
“Let me know if this hurts,” the doctor said, gently flexing Althea’s wrist back toward her, then away, then back again.
Althea winced slightly, turning her face away to avoid showing the thin sheen of sweat showing up on her forehead.
"It hurts a little," she admitted. "I remember I tried to grab it from him and he threw me to the ground, then pressed his foot down on my wrist, maybe that's why it hurts so much?"
O’Hara noted both the wince and the obvious fact that Althea turned her face away. She stopped flexing the wrist and gently massaged it instead. Then her expression narrowed.
Knowing it was absolutely none of her business, she asked anyway. “He did what? Are you going to press charges? That’s assault.”
Althea frowned.
"No," she said honestly. "He thought I was threatening his family, so he just did what he felt was right."
O’Hara pursed her lips. “Look, it’s none of my business, but you can’t always assume people always have honest and ethical motives. He smashed your head with a wine bottle and stepped on your wrist. What were you doing before all of this happened? Why do you think you deserved it?”
"I was to take his child away," Althea said sadly. "Mostly parents are distraught, it's normal."
"But I think he was beyond distraught, his daughter was his whole world, but he could no longer provide for her. So I was called."
O’Hara’s chest tightened. Dammit, now you look like a heartless bitch. “Oh,” she murmured. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Still, that doesn’t give an excuse for such violence and your current situation. Thankfully, I don’t think there is any permanent damage, but I still want to check your wrist a bit more to see if it’s potentially sprained or broken. Do you mind?”
Althea shook her head.
"I don't mind," She said, smiling up at Dr. O'Hara. "It's your job, after all."
O’Hara laughed quietly. “Yes, it is. Now, if at any point you feel pain, tell me.” She slowly ran her pointer and middle fingers around the circumference of Althea’s wrist, pressing gently as they went.
When Dr. O'Hara got to the inside of her wrist, Althea winced.
"That hurts a little." She admitted. "But not too much."
O’Hara nodded. “I think some ice should help it in the meantime. Reduce the swelling…” She glanced over her shoulder back at the nurses’ station. “Jackie!” she yelled.
The nurse in question hurried over. “Yeah?”
“Go run back to Eddie and get some ice,” O’Hara instructed. "Some Percocet too." As Jackie headed off, the doctor turned back to Althea. “Has there been any ringing in your ears, blurry vision, headaches, or feelings of nausea or fatigue?”
Althea nodded a little.
"A bit of nausea." She admitted and looked up. "Why? Is that concerning?"
O’Hara pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Well, I’m trying to evaluate if you have a concussion or possible head trauma from the blunt force. How long have you felt it? Since you woke up or has it just started recently?"
"Since I woke up." Althea said calmly. "Oh dear, having a concussion would not make this day any better."
O’Hara arched her eyebrows. “Since you woke up? And you didn’t care to mention it?” She sighed and shook her head. “You’re remarkably calm about all of this, aren’t you, darling?”
Althea shrugged.
"Freaking out isn't going to help anything. I've learned that from firsthand experience with my career, so why shouldn't it pertain to other aspects of life as well?" She said calmly. "And when I freak out I overheat and break out in hives, so I try not to do that."
O’Hara couldn’t help but laugh quietly at the last bit. “That’s a good idea. Let’s not do that,” she remarked. “Have you ever experienced head trauma before?”