#median nerve
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Had a demonstration of measuring nerve conduction velocity of nerves, was a good day
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Carpel Tunnel Syndrome & Exercises
Carpal tunnel syndrome (CTS) is a condition where a nerve (median nerve) in the wrist/hand becomes squeezed/compressed. CTS can be caused by repetitive movements and inflammation. As a result, numbness/tingling/weakness, and pain may occur in the hand and forearm. If pressure on the median nerve continues, however, it can lead to nerve damage and worsening symptoms.
Initially, symptoms can come and go. If it worsens, symptoms may occur more frequently and/or last longer.
Early on, symptoms may be eased by working to reduce the daily stress on the hands/wrists, and by doing stretches and simple exercises. Home care includes wearing a wrist splint, icing the wrist, and avoiding activities that may be causing the issue:
Minimize repetitive hand movements.
Alternate activities reducing strain on hands and wrists.
Keep wrists straight or in neutral position.
Avoid holding an object the same way for too long.
Keep forearms level with work surface while using the computer.
Wear a splint while sleeping to keep wrist straight.
Foods may work to accelerate healing and recovery. Anti-oxidant-rich foods like red bell peppers, carrots and leafy greens have essential nutrients that help alleviate pain from CTS. Spinach, rich in vitamin B6, is an analgesic that may also help relieve pain. Salmon, walnuts, pineapple and turmeric are also good choices.
If the CTS worsens over time and symptoms interfere with day to day activities and sleep, see your health care provider. Permanent nerve and muscle damage can occur without treatment. Also, symptoms of CTS can be similar to other medical conditions. To ensure that the symptoms are not manifestations of a different problem see a health care provider for diagnosis.
Exercises may help mild to moderate symptoms when combined with other treatments. CTS exercises work to strengthen the wrist, hands, arms and shoulders.
These exercises may not be easy at first, but they shouldn’t be painful. If they hurt, back off or stop completely and let your health care provider know. If you’re unsure about whether to do these exercises, ask your doctor. A hand therapist may also help.
Wrist Flexor Exercises:
With elbow straight and palm down, grasp fingers with other hand and slowly bend wrist backward.
Hold for 10 to 20 seconds.
Repeat on other hand.
With elbow straight and palm up, grasp fingers with other hand and slowly bend wrist backward..
Hold for 10 to 20 seconds.
Repeat on other hand.
With elbow straight and palm down, place other hand with thumb on underside of wrist and fingers on back of hand.
Slowly bend wrist down until stretch is felt on top of the forearm.
Hold for 10 to 20 seconds.
Repeat on other hand.
Sit with elbows on a table and palms together.
Slowly lower wrists to table. Keep palms together throughout the stretch.
Hold for 10 to 20 seconds.
Rest. Repeat.
Dynamic Mobility – Median Nerve Exercises:
With palms together move hands in an imaginary S from head to waist.
Keep shoulders down.
Repeat.
Stand with right arm slightly out from side.
Depress shoulder.
Repeat on other side.
Finger Flexion Exercise:
To bend fingers of right hand, start with knuckles furthest from palm, slowly make a fist.
Hold 10 seconds.
Relax.
Straighten fingers as far as possible.
Repeat on other hand.
#Carpal Tunnel Syndrome#Antioxidant foods#CTS#dynamic mobility#finger flexion#fitness#forearms#hands#wrists#palms#health#median nerve#numbness#pain relief#stretching#tingling#weakness#wellness#writst flexor#senior fitness coach#nancylfitness
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Hey chat, what’s the beginning warning signs of carpal tunnel?
#drawing#artists on tumblr#one must imagine#myself as sisyphus#each pixel adding to the eternal weight on my…..median nerve
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maybe I attempt icing every median nerve entrapment point and see what happens
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haven't drawn consistently for a year and now i can't draw anything without feeling like i have carpal tunnel so that's. It sure is
#just lots of median nerve tingles and very mild like#not even really Pain just discomfort#ik I need to just take it slow and do my stretches but. hate it#used to stretch my arms so much every day and they were in incredible condition and now i can't do fucking anything without it hurting#my arms#got some pencil squishies to help w this and i can't tell if it just makes it worse or not
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Median Nerve Entrapment Syndrome: Symptoms, Diagnosis, and Treatment?
Median Nerve Entrapment Syndrome: Symptoms, Diagnosis, and Treatment? #Mediannerveentrapmentsyndrome
#Symptoms #Diagnosis #Treatment
Median Nerve Entrapment Syndrome: A detailed knowledge of the anatomy of the median nerve is necessary for a successful diagnosis of this condition. The entrapment of the nerve can occur in various sites, and it is important to recognize these sites to properly diagnose the condition. In addition to knowing the specific locations involved in this condition, you should also be aware of its…
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Another small Clone^2 thought
Danny's hands are scarred.
Really, every part of him is. His arms, his legs, his torso. All of them littered in nicks and scratches and scabs that he's picked at over, and over, and over again. And then bigger ones, jagged scars from debris stabbing at him, and burns of ectoplasm blasts that melted through his regular clothes and hit his skin.
The one thing that never really got scarred were his hands. They were callused, of course, from all his climbing, and hitting, and hanging on for dear life to things. But never really scarred, not really. Maybe he just got lucky, maybe it was the fact that he wore gloves and they leather, and leather is harder to get through than cotton. Maybe both.
But, well, that's no longer case. But the scars on his hands take place on his palms. Two clean, thick lines going diagonally over his palms. Not from any enemy he's ever faced, but proof of his meeting with the little boy sitting between his knees, running his tiny fingers over those same scars.
Damian, his little brother. He scarred them, with that katana of his.
First when they first met, when Damian called him an imposter and proceeded to attack him. It was really only from Danny's exposure to the quick movements of ghosts that kept him from getting shish-kabob'd by Damian's sword.
And it was only because he was an idiot, and his brain was not faster than those reflexes that he kept grabbing the blade with his hands. That it kept cutting into that leather until it started cutting skin.
And then numerous times over on those rocky first months of Damian staying with him, when he didn't know any English, and Danny didn't know any Arabic. When Danny would piss him off or go looking for him when he ran off, he would have to grab his katana while Damian was swinging it at him.
His hands wouldn't heal for months because of it. The wounds kept being re-opened. Kept bleeding. Kept hurting. Until they slowly stopped hurting, and he knew that it wasn't a good thing.
Danny's parents were very upset when they saw his hands. It was hard to lie about where he got them - the lines are too clean, too consistent, to have been accidents. Danny didn't know how to lie and say it wasn't because of Damian. That it wasn't his katana that they knew nothing about that was stained with his blood.
He found a way to anyways, because he thought Damian was worth it at the time. He was a kid. He was scared. He was hurting other people and that's all he was ever taught to do.
So Danny thought a little pain was worth it.
(He still does.)
Oh, fun fact. There are three nerves in the human hand. the radial nerve, the median nerve, and the ulnar nerve. From what he could find on it, the ulnar nerve traveled up into the pinky and the ring finger, the median went through the middle of the palm and the ring, the middle, and the index, and the radial nerve went into the thumb and the index.
Fun fact, did you know consistent (or deep enough) lacerations to the palm could end up cutting a nerve? And that such lacerations can cause numbness, loss of feeling, and weakness in the hand, fingers, and thumb?
Here's a final fun fact: Danny had to go to physical therapy after his hands finally began to heal. Because Damian's katana had cut his radial nerve. There are seventeen thousands touch receptors in the hand, Danny's lost some of those.
His hands still hurt when he closes and opens them, the scarring pinches a little. He doesn't know why but his fingers hurt now when its too humid or too cold, or when its about to rain. It sucks. It's worth it.
He lied about before; here's the final fun fact:
There is a deeply, deeply, guilty look on Damian's face as he runs his little hands over Danny's scarred palms, carefully closing and opening his fingers in a slow rendition of his physical therapy workouts.
(Because even if it's ended, he still has to do them. Pain doesn't go away even if it's healed.)
"I'm sorry." Damian says in a meek, thick voice. He's said it before, when they've done this before at all hours of the day. Danny's wondering if Damian does it on purpose - hurt himself with this, that is. Not apologize. "I hurt you."
Danny sighs, deeply, and leans forward to press his face into his little brother's hair. "It's okay." He mutters, again. And he'll say it again, and again, and again, until Damian finally believes him. "I'm not mad."
"I am." Damian insists, his voice wobbles. "I hurt you, Danny."
"And I say it's okay that you did, Damian." Danny repeats, and wraps an arm around Damian's middle to sit him on his leg. Damian doesn't look at him, just curls his fingers around Danny's other hand and looks at the scar there. "Like I said, I'm not mad. I would do it again."
"Do not."
So, Danny's hands are scarred.
#dp x dc#dpxdc#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dp crossover#dpdc#dp x dc au#dp dc crossover#danny fenton is not the ghost king#danny fenton is a clone#damian clone au#clone squared au#late night starry posts#just some food for thought that i thought would be neat#the scarred hands thing really only applies to a no-powers danny i think#because a halfa danny can just go intangible#so problem avoided#danny's got quick reflexes but his brain isnt quite as fast as his body#so his solution to something coming at him is to 'block'#and that includes very sharp objects#anyways i thought it was an angsty thought and thought to share#clone^2
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Vash's Prosthetic Arm: An Anatomical Analysis
As stated on my previous post, please take what I say with a grain of salt & are simply my observations and theories. I am simply autistic about human anatomy and a bio student so I wanted to share my own finds with other fans who may be interested!
A while back ago, I made a post analyzing Vash's new prosthetic arm in Tristamp. It got attention, which I'm extremely grateful for, and as time went on and new episodes released, we got more information and shots of Vash's arm. As a result, the images and general info will be updated! Thank you for letting me ramble about this.
To rehash what I've said before: Vash's prosthetic heavily resembles the skeletal & muscular make up of a human arm, which I noticed because of his fingernails. Being a biology nerd, I thought about how these could play into how he moves and flexes his arm.
Vash's hands include things like fingernails, lumbricals and various tendons that may seem odd or for the aesthetic, but many of them aid in flexing the fingers, stabilizing grip, grabbing and performing intricate delicate tasks! They're extremely important to have.
As said before, Vash's arm has no muscle, so these mechanisms in his arm would help him greatly in performing tasks like reloading, writing, and being able to have a strong sturdy grip on various objects. He even has a thenar eminence (the meaty part of your thumb), which allows the thumb to grab/pinch.
His forearm and elbow are also extremely interesting, although different from a humans (eg: his ulna & radius staying supinated palm facing down), although feel free to take liberties whenever. All in all, these little details make for realistic and practical movement.
ALSO: I wanted to take time to point out Vash's reaction to being prodded at in ep 8. Most people theorized that he can feel pain in his arm, but I disagree with this for various reasons.
He most likely has something akin to nerves in his arm to allow him to feel/move, which I believe to be the median nerve based on the area Brad prods at. This nerve is responsible for motor skills and feeling sensations, and as all nerves it is an extremely sensitive area. Remember, prodding at an exposed nerve is extremely painful; a white-hot pain that burns.
And to correct myself, his arm also ends under the deltoid muscle like his original arm in Trimax/'98! The only difference is a shield / armor plate most likely used to protect his arm.
So it's no surprise he reacts like this, although like I said: this is just an assumption to his reaction based on my knowledge of nerves and human anatomy! I just really love Vash's arm and how it's built, so I'm so excited to figure out how it works (if we ever do, hopefully!)
#trigun#trigun stampede#vash the stampede#just wanted to talk about his arm. again#long post#reposted from twitter#saw everyone liking this and got so embarrassed#because i got some stuff wrong. i am allergic to it
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gently running my finger down the length of the median nerve in the corinthian’s left arm, neatly bisecting it with the edge of my nail, exposing the pith and pulp to daylight and his screams to open air, then running back up the length, zipping him closed tooth by tooth. he cums from this
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Loved the Steve Harrington x shy reader ones, can you please make another where reader is shy but super kind inside? Like she rescues sick kittens or dogs from street and lets them be free after a good care when nobody's around? Really wanna see Steve's reaction after he accidently finds her doing so.
P.s-Hope you're enjoying the beach🫶
hi friend!! the beach was so good but there's sand everywhere and i can't get rid of it xoxo. thank you for ur request i hope this fits what you imagined <3
shy + fem!reader | 1500 words
"hey!"
your head snaps up at the sudden harsh call, but their next words are softer and maybe a little exasperated.
"what the hell are you doing in the road?"
steve harrington approaches like a mirage. the anchor of your stomach drops, nerves nearly pinning you to the ground. heat ripples off of the pavement and off the edges of his hair, ringer-tee tight around his arms. his BMW is parked in a gravel offshoot a yard or two away. for a moment, you forget what you're doing and your hands go free.
"hi," you muster. "i was..."
oh! you whip back around, surprised to find the dog you've discovered still meandering toward the far side of the road. it's limping on its back right leg, as if it keeps pushing forward, the injury will heal itself. it's a bully of some sort; not quite a pit, but definitely not a bulldog. its fur is completely white save for some dirt around its paws and nose.
steve slows to a jogging stop and flicks his hand at you where you kneel. get up, he's motioning. his brows are drawn in the sunlight, and likely in confusion, too. when you go to stand, he takes your bicep gently in his hand and pulls you the rest of the way to your feet. he even steadies you once you're up.
"good?"
your ears go hot as irons. you want to thank him, but it's hard to speak when he's around, so you just nod.
"is it yours?" he asks.
"no," you reply. "no, i just...i was on my bike and i saw it limping."
he throws you an odd glance. "we're on the interstate."
it's true. in the wooded part, at least- surrounded by trees and a metal barrier. but the road is windy, and if a car came around from the opposite side, it would have to be paying good attention to spot you at the curve.
you blink at steve, surprised at how much he seems to care. it's obvious that he does- you're quiet; not dense. but you still don't know what to say.
"it's okay," you shrug.
really? that's the best you could come up with?
steve shakes his head, a little frantic as he takes your forearm and leads you to the metal barrier, climbing over it and then offering his hands to you a second time. "c'mon. hop over."
you blink at him, a little stunned still. it's a bit of a ridiculous reaction, maybe. steve is one of your best friends. but he's also...steve. you can't really be entirely calm around steve harrington. especially not when he appears out of nowhere and drives his car off the road to check on you.
you take his hands and step over. once you've landed, his hands swipe across your shoulders; an almost extended release.
the dog lingers on the other side of the railing. steve swings his legs back over the barrier, and it teeters backward, frightened by his height or maybe just the drop of his feet.
"hey," he calls, frazzled. "don't...it's okay. c'mere."
the dog whines, wary.
the whirring of an engine catches your attention, and you're forced to speak.
"steve," you say. his name is foreign on your lips despite how familiar he is to you. "there's a car."
"it's okay," he replies, kneeling. his voice is a murmur. the dog is backing further into the road, its wounded paw drifting over the yellow median. steve's gaze is sharp, both of you afraid for the animal now. you feel a little bad for dragging him into it. if something happens to the dog, now steve will have to be sad about it, too.
a blue volkswagen comes around the curve too fast for your liking and you're propelled over the barrier, grabbing the neck of steve's shirt.
you yank him backwards, although he probably didn't need it. the dog scampers off just in time as the car shoots by. its back lights stay dim, the driver not even tapping the brakes as flashes of white fur disappear into the forest on the other side of the road. and just like that, the dog is gone.
"damnit," steve huffs. but his shoulders are rigid. breaths rise and fall quickly from his chest, hard and fast, as if he's trying to slow down his heart. he glances over his shoulder, but not quite at you, without moving to pry your fingers off of his shirt. "i don't see it."
your expression crumples.
steve locks eyes with you after a moment of silence. his brown eyes are wide, expectant, as if he knew what your wordless response would be. his head cocks to the side a bit before he straightens out and sighs.
"alright, alright. i'll drive around and look for it."
his neck is warm. you let go, wrinkles from your grip left in the shirt. he wipes a hand over the top of his spine like you've left a film and turns to you.
"you shouldn't just park your bike on the road, mother theresa."
you scoff at the nickname, turning from his gaze. "i am not."
"yeah, whatever," he huffs in return, as if he's ready to leave, although he hasn't moved to do so.
it's nice of him to offer to look for the dog, but you're sure he won't find it again just by driving around. why would it risk going out onto the road again? you needed to look in the woods.
"why are you making that face?" he complains.
huh? "what face?"
"that...oh, man, whatever. alright. quit ogling at me. i'm gonna do it."
you laugh before you can stop it, and if steve was tempted to smile by that, he scrubs the look off his face quickly.
"what are you talking about?" you breathe.
"you're looking at me all...helpless," he retorts. "now i have to do whatever you ask."
that does it. if your ears went hot before, all of you is on fire now. you turn completely around, pretending to look for your bike in the trees, but you had left it in the complete opposite direction and you're too worked up to pass by steve on your way there.
finally, you're forced to turn back around. there's nowhere to hide from the incredibly obvious diversion you attempted and steve is going to be standing there no matter how long you pretend to be searching for something.
he's standing with his arms folded.
"do you do this a lot?"
you stare at him, brows lifting. do what? he reads your expression.
"pick up lost puppies, brake for birds...that sort of thing."
"those are different things," you murmur.
"you get it," steve retorts.
but you don't. the notion that you're some sort of sweet and gentle creature is odd to you, considering how clunky and awkward you feel most of the time, and for steve to suggest that you just did 'that sort of thing' was entirely unexpected to you.
of course, to steve, it's plain as day; you are the sweetest thing he's ever seen, and he would camp out in a tent on the interstate for the next week until he found that dog. for you.
he has to bite back a grimace at how enamored he is with you to offer his hand.
"c'mon. you can put your bike in the trunk and then we'll go look for the dog." he clocks your concern and sighs gently. "on foot."
good.
you're greedy and take his hand before you can be afraid to, and when you step over the railing, it's clumsy; your right leg landing harder than your left. you stumble, and steve catches you, your torso folded over his arm.
when he stands you up, you can't even look at him. but you can see the amused grin on his face out of the corner of your eye, kind and surprised and maybe a little cocky.
"you know what? i'll get the bike. you just...stand there. and try to stay standing until i get back."
you shoot a glare at his back despite your nerves. he returns with your bike, looking weightless in his arms, and says- "think you can make it to the car by yourself, or do you need me to carry you?"
you grin, all embarrassment. "shut up."
"that dog would be shocked by your harsh words if he could talk."
"steve," you laugh breathlessly.
he chuckles, quiet and soft, like he hadn't meant to let it out.
"this should be fun."
#stranger things#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#stranger things fic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington x reader fluff#steve harrington x you#stranger things x reader
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//Hello everyone, My drarry heart is craving for tumblr rp (via posts). I am looking for my Harry. If you are interested, please drop me a text and we can discuss further. Please be 21+ as I am the same.
I type semi lit (can't type much due to median nerve compression so my replies tend to be on shorter side) though I am okay with whatever length you want to type.
I am okay with anything except death gore, infidelity among ship, too much angst fight among ship, I love playful banters. I am okay with nsfw, though only in DM, not as post//
#drarry#hpdm#harry potter universe#harry potter fandom#draco x harry#harry potter#harry x draco#drarry role play#drarry rp#roleplay#drarry roleplay#draco malfoy#draco lucius malfoy#harry james potter#tumblr rp
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so for potential fic writers what exactly does rei's nerve damage mean? nerve pain, numbness, no load bearing, can he move it, what would his physio be like, etc? i can't find a lot of resources but you seem to know what you're talking about :333 thank you!!
when you lose a nerve function, it's like severing the only bridge between two cliffs, cutting off communication completely between the brain and the limb. since rei's nerves are severed pretty high up, it is likely that most muscles innervation are impaired and he can barely move his arm, causing him to lose the ability to flex and extend his forearm, wrist and fingers. losing sensation to the whole limb is a given too.
just by severing the median nerve itself (that's a single nerve, and it's possible that he damaged more than one with that gunshot) would cause him to lose the ability to form a fist, to curl his fingers to hold a gun, and this is what left me in awe of the show's writing because it was so fucking brilliant. what use would rei be to the organization if he can't even hold a gun right and pull the trigger?
there's surgeries one could get to fix it -- nerve grafting, but it is costly, and i doubt rei would get it because that would defeat the purpose of him inflicting the injury on himself. physiotherapy is possible. most of the time it is done to prevent muscle wasting, but does little to improve on the nerve damages.
hope this helps!
#buddy daddies#buddy daddies spoilers#anonymous#ask chromie stuff#suwa rei#i am once again floored by the writing of this show#chrmz.txt
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maybe the worst my carpals pain has ever been. I want to play fucking zelda bitch
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Could write something about Anton Chigurh ?🖇
I love him 💕💕💕
I’d be delighted to, 🖇️. Here’s something I’ve been sitting on for a while:
Compound Fracture | Anton Chigurh x f!Reader
TW/CW: Blood, bone, killing, etc. this is a No Country for Old Men one shot, afterall.
—————
It was an address given to him years ago. Didn’t matter what was going through his mind, the address stayed. Rain, snow, shine, shit.
But the concern was if the occupant still resided in the house that occupied the address. The concern was the bone sticking out of his arm.
Initially when the Buick hit him, he’d flung himself into the passenger side to save as much of himself as he could. But looking down at the bloody bone that ripped through his skin as though it were paper, he thought he was worse for wear. He checked the amount of blood coming out of his arm, hoping that the median artery wasn’t severed. It wasn’t. The pain hadn’t set in yet, still running on adrenaline, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it to a veterinarian’s office, or blow another car sky high in attempts of robbing a pharmacy. The bone would just cause too much attention, as would the blood streaming down his face.
Besides, sometimes you gotta know that you might be biting off more than you can chew before you take a bite, and Anton knew his limits. You have to, especially in his line of work. It’s what let’s you dictate your future to the best of your ability.
The house was in a quiet neighborhood. The type of neighborhood that kids zip up and down the street on their bikes in. The type of neighborhood with old women and their garden beds. The type of neighborhood with cookouts, potlucks, and the like. This was no place for someone like him.
He knocked on the house with a red door, and on the other side, a (E/C) eye was looking through the peephole.
‘This’ll be a tough one,’ she thought.
She unlocked the door and ushered him in.
“Any cops or emergency services called?”
“Yes, but I left the scene before they could make it there.”
“Good, good. Anybody see you?” She questioned, all the while walking briskly around the house, laying medical paper down on the kitchen table, sanitizing this n that, pulling out tools and medicine, and putting on latex gloves.
“Two young boys. I paid for their silence.”
“Young boys talk. Young people do in general. Seems like you paid for a shirt as well. Are you allergic to latex?” She stated, looking at the gingham button up Anton fashioned into a sling.
“No.”
“I’m gonna inject nerve block in your arm. I’m sure you’re aware of the state you’re in, and adrenaline can only take you so far.”
“I’m aware.”
“This is a compound fracture. Means the skin’s been torn open, and that the bone’s as sharp as a steak knife. You’re rare.” She humored.She studied his arm as he rested on the kitchen table. “Are you comfortable?”
“As much as one could be in this situation.”
“What brought you to this situation?” She asked, always curious about her patients. Some were tight lipped about their endeavors, others were crying so loud she couldn’t get nothing else out of them.
“My word.” Be replied, referring to his visit with Carla Jean.
“And what word would that be?” She cleaned the wound, spraying it down with alcohol.
“A man chose not to save his wife while he was alive. I gave him my word I’d kill her, since she was liable the same as him.”
“Doesn’t sound like he loved her.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, I’d kill for anyone I’d love. But you gotta be willing to die too. Killing someone is one thing. Taking the life of someone that doesn’t mean anything to you is easier than sacrificing yourself. But when you wed, you’re givin’ your mind, body, and soul to them. You should be willin’ to lose all three for them.”
He’d hadn’t thought about it in that way. Sure, he knew Moss was selfish, a choice had to be made, and he picked the wrong one, but he didn’t think about the aspect of love and marriage when it came to the choice. He just knew Moss loved her, or so he thought. That’s why he used her as leverage.
“Then you’re right.”
“I’m hardly ever wrong.”
His lips lifted slightly at her wit. This whole time he’d been staring up at the ceiling fan above the table he’d been laying on, noticing that there wasn’t a speck of dust on it. The entire place was immaculate.
“If there is an afterlife I wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. A dead man can’t take back his actions. It’s even hard for a livin’ man to do so.”
“He seemed comfortable in his conviction. Confident that he’d get me, save his wife, and take the money that wasn’t his to begin with.”
“He made his choice, I wouldn’t feel sorry for him because of that. Do you believe in karma?”
“Maybe.”
“I do. I think this bone sticking out is your karma here. But there will be more to come. My door is always open when karma strikes next.”
“You think karma brought me here?”
“I do. You killed the wife, and whether you’re right or wrong to do it doesn’t matter, it never has, but you killed her, and now this has happened to you. You coulda stayed in her home a little longer. You coulda left a little earlier, and all of this coulda been prevented. You’ve got impeccable timing, or karma does, anyway.”
He looked in her eyes, and she stared right back. She pushed the bone back into place, he grunted at the strange pressure.
“Have you had karma?” He asked. He was sure the answer was yes.
“Always. I help people who do terrible things by society’s standards. I get good things, because I’m helping, but I get bad things because of who I help.”
“Then why help?”
“I want to. I think it’s interesting. How many times in your life do you get to push a bone back into someone’s arm?” She smiled. “I think you’re my favorite patient. No kicking and screaming, and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a fascinatin’ fracture.”
This woman was strange, delightfully so. Not squeamish, working quickly and efficiently, and providing conversation that didn’t make him want to cut it short through more violent means.
Before he knew it he had some strange metal device on the outside of his arm, with something that looked like screws going into it. She sutured his arm, soon injecting something along the lines of antibiotics he assumed to further fight infection. The details of the home surgery were extremely foggy in his sedative-ridden mind, but he remembered her helping him up off of the table and her showing him a room where he could stay until his arm was healed enough to let him go.
He fell asleep soon after she took his shoes off, faintly remembering her bringing him in water and painkillers.
And when the days came where his arm inevitably healed, and he inevitably left to get inevitably hurt once again, he knew he’d be back to hear more about karma, fractures, fate, and the correct way to disinfect wounds even though he knew what to do anyway, because from her, he’d gladly listen.
#fanfic#x reader#no country for old men#anton chigurh#Anton Chigurh x reader#anon ask#slashers#slasher x reader#Anton Chigurh x y/n#Anton Chigurh x you
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