This was an unexpected development. Looking into her cut pant leg, maggots swarmed around her stump.
I froze for a moment, wondering how such a thing had developed. Since moving to Ultsar, I hadn't seen a single fly. Fly larvae hatch only a few hours after being laid, so it seemed we had caught it before it became a serious problem.
If left unattended, they could cause infection and major discomfort for Zela. However, that doesn't mean maggots are all bad. They've been used in medical treatments for centuries. They first became a common treatment on the battlefield when soldiers' wounds would become infected and heal better than those without maggots. I learned as much in school.
The hardest thing when dealing with maggots was the mental fortitude needed, as seen in Zela. Zela was a strong, confident demon, but the maggots pushed her over the edge. I didn't blame her. Their wriggling, wet, and squishy bodies moved around as they multiplied before your eyes, piling on top of each other and forming a mass together. It caused many patients to hyperventilate and panic. That was the stage Zela was in currently.
She begged and pleaded for me to help her. I debated the best course of action. I remembered back to my days of training in trauma units and geriatric care, to an event I will never forget. A woman was brought in with a bag wrapped around her leg. After removing the bag, what seemed like thousands of maggots were present in multiple open wounds on her leg. The procedure was to move her to a bath and pour a sterile solution on the wound to wash out the maggots and disinfect the area.
"Hello!" Zela screamed, tears streaming down her face. I snapped out of my thoughts and memories of the past with a plan in my head of how to help her.
Without asking, I picked Zela up in a bridal carry, her face close to mine. Her tears continued flooding as I rushed downstairs. Under normal circumstances, Zela would have punched me in the face, but with the maggots being her main concern, she gave in and let me carry her.
I gripped her leg and the open pant leg in one hand, with my other hand wrapped around her back. Once again, I was shocked by how light she was. It reminded me of when I first carried her back to the office. It was like she wasn't even there.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I turned and darted to the freshly cleaned bathroom. I sat Zela on the edge of the bathtub with her infested leg hanging over the tub. I removed the pants she'd been wearing, giving easier access to the wound.
During my first inspection, I had deemed everything to be healing nicely. My only guess was that after she got out of bed the first time, the movement and use of strength could have reopened a wound. We could worry about that later. Focus.
I turned on the water and waited for it to heat up. It would take a moment. I prayed that the heater still worked; it might be out of fuel. As I waited, I looked Zela in the eyes.
"You will be okay, I promise," I said confidently, looking her in the eyes. She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes.
"O-Okay," Zela choked out. She swallowed and took another deep breath, trying to get control of herself. However, she glanced back at her leg and broke down again. I pursed my lips. I wanted this to be over as soon as possible; Zela was suffering so much.
I put my hand in the lukewarm water and deemed it good enough. A sterile solution would have been better to use, but with the extremely limited supply I had in my sack, I needed to use this first.
"It might be warm. I am going to start cleaning them off," I warned Zela of what was next to come. I grabbed the removable showerhead and moved it close to Zela's leg.
The pressure was great enough to wash away a lot of the maggots. Zela watched the process, tears slowly ceasing as most of the maggots were washed away. A few still clung on. I grabbed tweezers out of my bag and the small amount of saline solution I had. I moved in for a closer look.
It appeared I was right. Somehow, between my first inspection and now, a wound had reopened on her stump. A fly had come in contact with it and laid eggs. A few hours later, we were here. Looking into the newly open wound, I gauged the damage.
The wound wasn't deep. Only a dozen maggots had been inside, eating away. I warned Zela, "This is going to hurt. I am going to clean out the wound with this," I said, holding up the bottle of saline solution. It would feel like pouring alcohol on a scrape.
Zela swallowed and nodded confidently; she could bear it. I opened the container and squeezed a good amount of the solution inside the wound. Immediately, Zela bared her teeth and cursed. It looked as if her teeth would shatter under the pressure.
The maggots inside flowed out of the wound, leaving two behind, which I got out with tweezers. "I'm going to flush the wound one more time, okay?"
The last flush must have hurt because tears bubbled up in the corner of Zela's eyes. She nodded anyway. "Okay." Zela cursed under her breath once more as the solution worked its way around the wound.
I glanced inside the wound once more, confirming no maggots were present. After confirming all the maggots were flushed out, I took out a needle and silk thread. Better sutures were out there, but I needed to close this wound to curb the risk of further infestation or infection.
"This is going to hurt too; I need to suture the wound." Small, pain-filled tears streaked down Zela's cheeks. She nodded.
I made quick work stitching up the wound. I didn't want to prolong the pain. A few hushed curses from Zela later, I looked at the stitched-up wound, satisfied. I glanced up at Zela. "Are you okay?"
She'd just been so vulnerable, showing her true emotions around me for the first time. It must have been scary for her to wake up to feel and see such a thing.
"Yes." I hoped that it could have been a moment for our trust and patient-doctor relationship to grow, but she quickly went back to her quiet, reserved self. My mind started to come down from the adrenaline high that I was experiencing. I looked her up and down and saw her face was flushed.
"Are you running a fever?" I asked, scrunching my eyebrows. Just what we needed next—Zela to come down with a sickness. I reached out, ready to feel her forehead, but she squinted and flinched away.
"I-I'm sorry, Zela. You just looked like you were burning up. I wanted to make sure you weren't running a fever." She thought I was raising my hand to her out of violence.
"I am fine. Just, can I take a bath? I feel gross." I nodded.
"Of course," I said, reaching into my bag and grabbing some creams and gels with minty smells. I set them on the bathroom sink. I stood, ready to make my exit.
"Wait!" Zela shouted, frowning.
"I hate to ask—it makes me sad, actually—but can you help me? With how I am…" She asked, motioning to her body with her good hand. "I don't think I can best clean myself." She said, avoiding eye contact. Even though she hated the idea, she chose to trust and rely on me.
"Of course, I can help you." In geriatric training, I had bathed hundreds of elderly patients. Also, with the freshly sutured wound, it could get wet, but we should try to avoid that.
I slowly assisted in undressing Zela and set the bath to a nice warm temperature.
Courteous, caring, weird. Those were three words I would use to best describe Dobin Heath. Currently, he was holding the stump of my leg as I soaked in the bath. That's where his courtesy was on display. Even though he was seeing me in such a vulnerable state, he kept his eyes straight, not once looking at me unless I asked him a question. When he carried me, he was worried, focusing on helping me.
I asked him to clean my hair, to which he gently scrubbed my scalp. Even though I couldn't see his eyes, I knew they weren't wandering. He focused everything on helping me.
My past owners were lustful, hateful creatures. Dobin was the opposite. Just earlier, his caring nature was on full display. He calmed me down and warned me when something would hurt. He healed me swiftly, and best of all, he wasn't my owner. He ripped up the papers binding me to him to gain my trust. There was always a possibility that the papers were fake or copies, but I knew Dobin wouldn't do such a thing.
But that leads into his weird factor. He was the first human to help me without expecting anything in return. He was the first human not to look at me with lustful or hateful gazes. He was weird. He shattered all the past expectations I had of humans. That sack he carried—weird.
I let out a little giggle, the first time I'd laughed in years. "What?" Dobin asked, looking at my face and into my eyes.
A genuine smile was on my face. "Nothing," I said. This was the first time I'd been happy in a long time.