I was asked by a person wearing red, yellow, and black what I wanted for patching them up. I stated that all I wanted was to run my clinic, and no longer be afraid to help those who truly needed my help. To no longer be punished for giving the care I trained years to perfect, to those too poor to go anywhere else. -- BKF
The words, First and foremost, do no harm, are written above my clinic door. Very few who come to me can read them, but they do know what words look like. People with permitted business used pictures of what they were selling, and most folks don't need to read for the work they do.
When that work hurts them, they know to come to the place with the words above the door. They know to come to me.
I help them all however I can. No matter who comes in or how. From the regular street rats with food poisoning to the authority guard with venereal disease, or a wound in an embarrassing place. Even a stranger who looked like they didn't belong. Especially a stranger who looked like they didn't belong. I took an oath to help everyone and there's no exceptions to 'everyone'.
Recovering patients rest in the catacombs. It's no resort, but it is a place many avoid. I've done my best to make it comfortable for my patients, and I give them what food I can scrounge. At least my patients remember me and give me whatever they can spare for the others' needs.
Well. The workers remember. The authority guard treat my services like it's their right to have them. They often tell me that I'm lucky they don't raid my place. I suppose that's gratitude enough.
The way things are? It has to be.
I kept the stranger far apart from where I kept the authority guard. It made sense. Anyone who looked like they didn't belong was instantly a target for the authority guard. Remember. Do no harm.
Letting them know I had a stranger in my wards would definitely cause harm.
Besides, lying to the authority guard is practically a national pastime. Even I think they're dickheads and I'm the kindest person anyone knows.
My stranger, notable for their striped coat in colours of red, yellow, and black, recovered faster than anyone I'd seen to before. Standing, he was taller than anyone I'd seen before.
"You do good work," he said, admiring the stitches I'd put into his body. "Illegal?"
He had to be from outside. Very illegal in the eyes of the authority guard. "Tolerably illegal," I said. "I can't take money in payment, but I can take whatever you can spare that will help the others."
"Nothing else?"
"If I had one wish..." I sighed. Shook my head. It was a mad dream, but I said it anyway. "I wish the authority guard wouldn't rough me up when I'm outside my clinic. It slows me down."
The stranger said, "I'll see what can be done," and I believed that he could do something.
When next I checked on him, he was gone. That happens a lot with my patients, so I paid it no mind.
Until a rash of mysterious deaths hit the precinct... and the ivory towers of the upper class. Until an entire new regime entered and changed a lot of laws.
A miracle indeed.
I get the impression that a lot more of my patients will be able to read those words, very soon.
[Photo by Peter Herrmann on Unsplash]
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