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Vignettes / Re: Tytorian Vignettes
« on: October 13, 2023, 05:00:30 PM »All Fall Down - Part 2
King George Memorial Hospital
Tsargrad, East Crownlands
October 13th, 2013
10:00 am
King Michael opened his eyes and found he was an a hospital bed. He had no memory of arriving here. From his position, he could see a doctor or nurse (he couldn't tell which) with her back to him, speaking in low tones with someone just out of sight on the other side of the door to his room. The angle was such that he could just see the side of a bodyguard's head in the hallway outside. He tried to sit up, and found to his horror--
"Your Majesty, you're awake." The doctor had evidently noticed his movement and turned around.
"Well, most of me is, anyway," the King said, "I can't move my legs."
"Yes, I was afraid of that," the doctor sighed, "Do you remember your fall?"
The King thought for a moment. "I... yes, vaguely," he said, "I took a bad step."
"Well, you fractured your twelfth thoracic vertebra and damaged your spinal cord."
"Damaged in what way?"
"Partially severed. From what we can tell, the damage is such that it is almost entirely affecting motor control in your legs. We haven't been able to test it yet, but it's possible -- probable, even -- that you will find yourself suffering from fecal and urinary incontinence as well going forward. In addition, you cracked three of your ribs; it's a wonder you didn't kill yourself."
"I see."
"There are procedures and therapies we can perform in an attempt to restore your spinal column and legs to full, or at least partial, functionality," the doctor went on, picking up a clipboard from a side table.
"How many Tytorians suffer from my present condition?" the King asked.
"Excuse me?" the doctor said, looking up. When King Michael repeated his question, she said, "I don't have exact numbers in front of me--"
"That's all right, it doesn't matter that much," the King said, cutting her off, "Of those who do, about what percentage has access to these therapies, accounting for both proximity to hospitals with the expertise to perform them and the funds necessary to pay for them?"
"I... I guess I don't know, Your Majesty."
King Michael smiled sadly at the look on the doctor's face. "Too few, by your expression," he said, "I will not ask any of my people to endure a condition I am not willing to face myself. I thank you for the offer, but I will pass on these procedures; if a wheelchair is good enough for my people, then it's good enough for me."
"But... yes, Your Majesty."
"Now, who were you talking to through the door when I came around?"
"The Duke of Clarence. He wanted an update on your condition. I asked him to wait in the hall."
"Show him in, would you?"
"At once, Your Majesty."
The doctor went to the door, ushered Prince George inside, and then left the room, closing the door behind her.
The two men held each other's gaze for a moment. At last, George broke the silence. "Father," he said, a shadow of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, "You're looking well."
Michael chuckled, then grunted and clutched at his side. "Ooh, don't make me laugh," he said, "The doctor says I cracked three ribs."
"And broke your spine, from what she tells me," George said, his smile fading.
"Yes," Michael said, spreading his arms and letting them fall back to his sides, "I likely will never walk again."
"Aren't there procedures--?"
"I refused them. There are too many Tytorians who don't have that option. I will stand in solidarity with them -- er, figuratively speaking."
"But--"
"Don't worry about me, George," Michael cut across him smoothly, "I'm content."
"Very well," George sighed.
The two sat in silence for a few more moments. This time it was Michael who broke it. "I suppose this is when you switch off my life support and seize the throne for yourself?" he quipped.
"Now?" George joked back, "Heck no, you're conscious. I'd want to wait at least until you're asleep before I try and smother you."
The two shared a laugh, but Michael quickly became serious again. "I'm going to need you to deliver a letter for me," he said.
"To whom? And what for?"
"To the Prime Minister, designating you as Prince Regent for the duration of my convalescence. While I'm sure I could perform what duties I still have from here, the kingdom deserves to have royal power in the hands of someone who's not restricted to bed rest at a doctor's orders."
"If you're certain."
"Quite. Now, prop me up and bring me a pen and some paper."