2025-09-12: Bedside Manner
- Cutscene: Bedside Manner
- Cast: Shinjiro Aragaki
- Where: Tatsumi Memorial Hospital, Tatsumi Port Island
- OOC Date: 2025-09-12
- IC Date: July 8th, 2012 / July 10th, 2012
- Summary: Over two visits to the hospital for his SEES physical and to get signed off to fight, Shinjiro loses hope he didn't even know he still had.
- Content Warning: Medical-related trauma and depression
Shinjiro had not been to the hospital as a patient in two years, not until his injuries from fighting that street ninja.
He's certainly had reasons to, of course. Injuries from fighting, his condition from the suppressants, any sickness. But he refused. Becoming what he had, his suffering ignored, he thought he just deserved to rot instead of seek treatment. A punishment.
Tatsumi Memorial Hospital was a familiar place. Shinjiro had been here about a month or two ago, checking in on Akihiko. Why was he doing this? Why would he expose himself to medical tests, prodding, poking, the criticism of what he's become?
He steeled himself. He'd do it for Mitsuru. For Akihiko. For Umie and Myunghon and everyone else.
For Ken.
Once Shinjiro was recovered enough from the injuries, they decided to do the physical then, to make him avoid repeated trips.
The doctor, Yamamoto-sensei, was a friendly sort, a positive bedside manner that only made Shinjiro more uncomfortable. He never liked doctors even when he was healthy, and his situation on the streets and with his condition made him like them less. It felt fake and prying, even if this was a Kirijo professional who would keep his information to such a confidentiality that Shinjiro half-jokingly suspected assassins would be involved if it was leaked.
Yamamoto started with his medical history once he came in. Shinjiro didn't have much in the past besides some wounds, so he reluctantly described his condition for the last two years, the pains, what he even suspected was going on. Coughs, shivering, weakness. Occasional bloodiness in the coughs. Various aches and pains basically daily.
His lifestyle behaviors came up. Yamamoto seems dismayed that he had been living on the street and not taking care of himself while all this was happening, but didn't do much more than frown.
Family illness was impossible to know. Shinjiro never had a family, a fact that still struck him when he least expected it. He fell through the cracks, and would continue doing so until he died.
The physical itself went smoothly. The nurses checked his vitals, finding his temperature very low and his blood pressure and heart rate not at their best, even if some of that was anxiety.
His skin was weak, almost pallid, and Shinjiro took a breath as they checked it.
After some further physical checks, it was time for the blood draw. Shinjiro grimaced sharply, as they searched for a vein for a bit before finding a decent enough one. It went smoothly after that, at least.
Urine sample at least gave him a moment with his thoughts. Shinjiro hated this. He hated feeling like he was being observed, pitied, judged for his choices in life. He made them. He took the responsibility.
Let him live with them until he died for them.
Once he was done, Shinjiro was told to come back the next day for a check on his injuries, and then possibly a few days later for some of the more tricky tests. They'd do their best at speeding up the results so he wouldn't have to wait.
"Aragaki-san, please, take a seat."
It was time for the results, his wounds having cleaned up more nicely than expected, given he's a Persona user who mainly only took superficial bleeding wounds. Shinjiro nodded to Yamamoto-sensei once with a grimace on his face, taking a seat on the medical bed.
The doctor looked over his charts, a small sigh escaping him in a way that made Shinjiro tense up.
"I'd go over all of it step by step, but you seem like a busy young man, so I'll cut to the chase, okay?" Yamamoto said, in a way that didn't breed contempt or pity but genuine 'neither of us really wants to talk about the messy details for that long'.
It was the first thing Shinjiro appreciated, as he grunted an affirmation.
"Not all the tests are finished, but from what we can see... the suppressants have done a number on your body. Your temperature regulation is out of sync, likely due to your endocrine system's hormone regulation, your neurotransmitters are likely misfiring, your heart, liver, and kidneys are all in bad shape, other organs aren't doing well either, there's likely nerve damage... you've been on that medication for two years, and it's certainly noticeable."
Shinjiro grimaced, even as he appreciated the doctor taking off that veneer of joviality and being actual serious about the condition Shinjiro was in.
"The good news is there's treatments to prolong your life while we search for other means to curing your condition. We have medications to assist with some of these issues, and taking better care of your health should give you a better life expectancy."
The words 'curing your condition' caused a sharp frown. Shinjiro still didn't have hope, and he assumed the doctor said it because Mitsuru had insisted she would help him.
"What exactly is my life expectancy?" Shinjiro asked. He recalled what he told Umie.
This made Yamamoto sigh again, as he looked over his charts.
"That's the bad news. I'd give you, as you are now... a year at most. We'd need to run more tests to be certain, though."
He paused, as he was not done with the bad news.
"Additionally... the medications will be somewhat ineffective, as long as you continue taking the suppressants. Unfortunately, we don't have a way around that at this time."
Shinjiro grit his teeth, hands grasping the bed and tightening. It was exactly what he thought it was, and yet...
"So what you're saying is I will die in a year, maybe more, maybe less. That the only thing that can change is how long it takes. I could have guessed this. Why am I here?"
"That's not- we'll do our best, Aragaki-san... but your body is rebelling against the suppressants. There's only so much we can do right now, but hopefully-"
Shinjiro stood up at that. Rebelling... much like he always did. "Hopefully? That's all you've got. False hope."
Yamamoto considered his path, as he sighed yet again. "I understand you're angry. I understand you're *scared*. But this isn't something you need to lash out about. We're here to help you, Aragaki-san."
Shinjiro inhaled, taking a calming breath, before exhaling. Breathe, breathe. Then, he retook his seat reluctantly, because he had another question.
"Am I allowed to return to 'work'?"
Yamamoto took one last look at the charts, pursed his lips, and then nodded. "I'll sign off on it. Just watch how much you exert yourself, okay? Stress, both physical and mental, will make your condition worse."
Shinjiro grunted, but eventually acquiesced with a nod. "Fine."
"If you need anything, please let us know, Aragaki-san," Yamamoto said with as much kindness as he could muster.
Shinjiro stood up for real this time. "Sure."
When he left, he'd slump against a wall in the hallway, take a long breath, and then head back home to Hirasaka to collapse in a chair for a bit. He knew Mitsuru would hear of this.
He'd hurt her once again.
And what to say to Akihiko? Shinjiro still couldn't tell him. Not about this.
He couldn't crush him like that with the same hopelessness he felt.
He just had to shoulder on.