Sanriel walks in, knocking tentatively on the edge of the entrance. "Hello, is anyone here?" she calls quietly, peering around.
Ilesyn's at her desk, her head downcast towards it, as though she's very much lost to the alure of whichever hide it is in front of her. Hearing Sanriel's voice, the Mindhealer straightens, a bored, somewhat disgruntled expression revealing itself upon her face: "Yes?"
"Am I interrupting you?" Sanriel asks tentatively, despite the fact that it's patently obvious that she is "I just came to, ahh... Make an appointment?"
"You have a penchant for querying the obvious," retorts Ilesyn dryly, as she sets down her hide, beckoning with a tilt of her head. "An appointment. To see me?" She sounds almost dubious-- this isn't something that happens all that often.
Sanriel shakes her head. "Not you, exactly... Necessarily." she wrings her hands nervously, eyes darting around the room, resting fleetingly onvarious objects before returning to the mindhealer. "I, ahh, need to, umm. Well, I've been rather sickish lately, and..." she studies the woman a bit closer and asks finally "Do you deal with the physical aspect of your Craft at all?"
Ilesyn's expression droops somewhat; she's visibly disappointed, although she controls her expression after the immediate fall, her eyebrows lifting shortly. "I've been known to give physicals, under duress," she allows, after a pause, "But my focus is very definitely a long distance from physical healing."
Sanriel drops into a chair before the desk, apparently too worried to stand on formailty any longer. "Oh, well. Maybe you can answer a basic question for me, then?"
"I could try." Ilesyn's nothing but honest, and tilts her head to the side awaiting the question.
"Well," Sanriel begins, taking a deep breath. "Like I said, I've been feeling a bit sickish of late. Can't sleep, nausea and all that. I was thinking it was jut due to the change of seasons, but I was talking to Miake earlier today, and she seemed to have the same problems... But she was pregnant."
Ilesyn stiffles, albeit not very well, a groan. "And you want to know whether it's likely or not," she surmises, her eyes rolling up towards the ceiling. "I take it this means you've actually been sexually active, unless you go for the turkey baster method?"
Sanriel looks slightly taken aback at that. "Ermm... Yes." she flushes bright red. "Umm... Twice. Once was just yesterday, though." she shakes her head, wondering at the more-than-necessary truth coming out of her mouth.
"What, go-rounds with the wherry baster?" Ilesyn, sarcastic, rolls her eyes, draping her hands upon the edge of the desk as she stares intently at Sanriel. "Faranth, I really think I ought to be counselling you out of your embarassment of sex, more than anything."
Sanriel flushes again, but her eyes snap. "Well, I really haven't had much experience with the subject. And what's this about a turkey baster?"
Ilesyn rolls her eyes, twining fingers through each other lazily. "Mm-hmm. Of course, if you're pregnant, then the whole /weyr/ will know that you've been having sex-- and they'll all want to know who with, too. Rumours will fly." She straightens her posture, adding, midly, "Women who want children, but not sex, use the turkey baster to artificially impregnate themselves." Her eyebrows raise, as if encouraging thought processes to fill in the rest.
Sanriel blinks. She understands /how/, but not /why/. "Well... It wasn't that. I promise." she says finally "And I'm really hoping that no one will find out. Umm, Healers are supposed to be confidential, right?"
Not particularly eloquent today, is our Harper.
Ilesyn's eyebrows lift again, twin bushy peaks rising towards her hairline. "You expect to be able to hide a pregnancy, Harper? When you get a girth as big as a MasterSeacrafter's beer belly? Unless, of course, you intend to abort, if you really are pregnant."
Sanriel's face falls. "I don't know. I jst want to know if I am. Not knowing is killing me.I suppose I could get Alora or somebody to take me *between* a couple of times, and see what happens, but..." she shakes her head "That's not particularly sensible."
"Why not? Do you think you can honestly /care/ for a baby? Do you have the time, the energy, the maturity, to bring up a child properly?" Ilesyn's eyes are sharp little points, her face a mask of pure seriousness. "I can give you the examination, if you're desperate." The infirmary is full, but all of the healers running about are busy-- Ilesyn's the only one sitting at her desk, unfrazzled.
Sanriel rolls her eyes. "Healer, I've been trained since I was eleven years old to care for and train children - of /all/ ages." she flicks her knot "Whether or not I have time now is of no relevance. My schedule would most assuredly change."
Ilesyn gives a wan smile, shrugging her shoulders. "As you wish. For myself, I'd not be willing to give up any fraction of my career for a child, but obviously, you know better."
Sanriel nods. "I wouldn't either, Healer. However, there are new and original concepts like 'fostering' that I could take advantage of." Her sarcasm is thick on the statement. "Mastership is not out of my reach, regardless of children. Perhaps I should abort, perhaps by doing so, I would be destroying Pern's next great talent. Pureply academic."
"'Fostering'." There's disdain to Ilesyn's tone. "I'll have you know that a good quarter of all of those that have regular appointments with me are still getting over the fact that their parents hardly made time to visit them, after they were fostered. From a clinical point of view, I can't believe that it's a good idea."
Sanriel chuckles, "Well, then ,it's perfect! There's got to be /someone/ to keep your proteges in business. But seriously, Healer, I can't believe that you think this sort of a conversation is beneficial to any party involved."
Ilesyn rolls her eyes. "I said, remember, a quarter. And that's only /one/ of their many problems. But-- fine. Do you want that physical, or not?"
Sanriel nods decidedly. "I do,"
Ilesyn stiffles, although not very successfully, a sigh, indicating one of the empty cots over in the corner. "Get your things off, and I'll be with you in a minute. You can close the curtain, if you're modest."
Sanriel relaxes a trifle and stands "Thank you, Healer." she says and moves off towards the designated cot. The curtain is closed with a snap.
Ilesyn takes several minutes-- by the sounds of it, she's scrubbing and rescrubbing her hands, to the point where they're probably minus a good layer of skin. At least, she flings open the curtain, closing it behind her. "All right." A dubious glance; she holds back a shudder, attempting to smile broadly. Attempting. Badly.
Sanriel pays no attention. She's dressed in one of those terrible tomporary-robes, and perched nervously on the cot. "Now what?" she asks, having never done anything similar before.
"You lay down," says Ilesyn, holding her sterilised hands out in front of her, to avoid contamination-- although it's probably mostly for her own sake, rather than Sanriel's. "And I fiddle about a bit." She sounds as though she's vastly looking forward to it-- or not.
Sanriel rolls her eyes, but complies. She prefers when the inner workings of a performance aren't studied closely, and she'll offer the same cortesies to another craft.
Ilesyn has cold hands-- no doubt thanks to their cold water washing, and they poke and prod with the best of them, as the healer mumbles obscenities beneath her breath.
Sanriel grimaces, but lies still. "I could teach you to play harp," she offers with a bit of a wry chuckle.
"Pardon?" Ilesyn blinks upwards, lifting her head so that she can-- at an odd angle --peer at Sanriel. "What has /that/ got to do with anything?"
Sanriel can't hold it any longer, and laughs "Might give you gentler fingers," she managesto snort through the laugh.
Ilesyn's expression shifts into a glare, with a soft huff of annoyance. "Will you quit criticising me! Or do you /want/ me to accidentally hurt your baby?"
Sanriel subsides abruptly. "Sorry," she says through clenched teeth.
Ilesyn hmms, beneath her breath, darting from the curtained-off area, across the infirmary. The sound of frenzied hand-washing crosses back before, at long last, Ilesyn appears again. "You can get dressed, now."
Sanriel does so /quickly/ andstands befor the Healer, with an expectant look on her face. She opens her mouth to speak, but shuts it with an audible snap. Patience, Harper...
Ilesyn, morosely, sighs: "Another hormonal pregnant woman to terorrize the weyr, and refuse necessarily mindhealing treatment." Is that a congratulations?"
Sanriel sighs. She thought so. "Pregnancy automatically requires mindhealing, eh?" she comments. "Well, in any case I thank you."
"Of course. It's a difficult thing to get to terms with, the whole having to bring a screaming, red-faced brat into the world." Ilesyn's views, as ever, are clearly obvious. "You'll want to make appointments with a healer," /not/ Ilesyn, "for regular checkups, and the like."
Sanriel nods. "Yes, ma'am." she says obediently. "I've got a class to teach in about an hour, so I don't have time now, but thank you, as I said." she picks up her jacket and opens the curtain. Well, that's that.
Ilesyn gives a short nod. "Ilesyn, or Journeywoman, please. You're welcome." Maybe.
Posted by Louise at January 29, 2003 11:09 AM