2012-10-17 Volunteering at the Clinic

Afternoon in the clinic is--busy, as usual. The lobby is easily two-thirds full, there's rarely two minutes without a phone going off at the reception desk, and a medical assistant comes out every few minutes to read named off one clipboard or another before leading patients deeper into the building. The receptionists are friendly as ever, ready with a smile for those coming in out of the warmth of the Kitchen. At least the air conditioning is working in the lobby, keeping it nice and cool.

If there was one thing that nature couldn't protect Emira from, it was the heat outside. So when she stepped into the air conditioned clinic, after asking around for what seemed like most of the afternoon, she heaved a heavy sigh, leaning on her staff with a relieved expression on her face. She glanced briefly toward a small trace of life in front of her... one of the residents of Hell's Kitchen, the one who had guided the blind woman to the door, she offered a small smile. "Thank you very much." A short nod of the head and the smaller man was off again, leaving the clinic, now that his business here was apparently complete. Emira started forward again, using her staff as a guiding cane as she made her way to what she assumed was the reception desk, judging by the sound of the phone ringing. "Excuse me... this is the County Clinic, is that right?"

The nearest receptionist looks up at the woman, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Yes it is, ma'am, do you have an appointment or would you like to make one?" She smiles at the woman, the smile evident in her tone, as she starts tapping on her computer to bring up this or that menu screen. Readiness and efficiency are what keep the place running smoothly, and it's something the receptionists specialize in. The double doors open and Prabhakar steps out, to head to the reception desk and lean over to quietly talk to another of the women. Wings are folded around his shoulders, the talons at their apexes interlocked over his chest, the wings hanging down behind him something like a cloak. His tail swishes in a relaxed manner, flicking side to side.

Emira's face lights up a little, and a bright smile plasters itself onto her face. "Oh no, nothing like that... I'm here because I wanted to help." She nods. "I'm a healer, you see... Usually I do... street work." She nods a little, "But I suspect that it would be easier to take care of a lot of people at once if I'm helping at a clinic, you understand? Not to mention the fact that it may be a little safer." She looks a little concerned for a moment, "Not everyone seems appreciative when you offer to help them on the streets... Not in New York City anyway..."

That makes the receptionist chuckle quietly. "That's true, unfortunately. But if you'd like to volunteer, you've come to the right place.  If you'll give me just a moment..." she says, reaching down and to the side to pull open a metal drawer near the floor. She quickly finger-walks through the manila separators, then turns to the receptionist talking with the gargoyle-esque doctor. "Maria, do we have any more of the Braille volunteer forms?" The woman arches a brow over her thin glasses and turns to look at the first woman. "I think so--check the next drawer over." As the woman does just that, Prabhakar steps over, his interest piqued. "Excuse me, madam, I could not help but overhear. You wish to volunteer, yes?  Let me thank you for that, and introduce myself.  I am Doctor Prabhakar Bhattacharya, though Doctor Prabha works just fine; I realize my name is a mouthful." The grin is audible in his voice as he addresses her.

Emira stands calmly as she waits for the receptionist to find the form... rather surprised that they get enough blind volunteers to have ever needed to ask if there were any of the forms left. She looks up, and turns her eyes to stare at the Doctor as he comes to introduce himself. She raises a brow and smiles slightly at the name. "Doctor Prabha it is... I am Emira Orenda." She releases her staff with one hand and offers it in the general direction of the doctor. "I do not want to assume... but I'm under the impression that you're not from around here, judging by your name."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Orenda," says the doctor, grinning still as he gives a respectful nod of his head. "I suppose the name and the voice do give it away, but--yes, I am originally from Kolkata, India." A beat's pause while he considers her, then he opens his mouth--and is cut off by the receptionist. "I'm so sorry," she says with an embarrassed smile as she sets a piece of paper and a pencil on the counter, loud enough to let her know where it is. Yes, they've had training in how to communicate with those with various disabilities and "different" abilities. "We haven't needed them in a long time, and no one copied any." There's a bit of color to her cheeks, the embarrassment in her tone deepening a touch. Prabhakar chuckles quietly, then says, "It is alright. If you like, Miss Orenda, I would like to speak with you further, so I could help you with the form if you wish, though it is very basic." A generic volunteering form ordered in reams at an office supply place, even.

Emira's eyes turned toward the desk, and she felt along the surface to take both the pencil, and what she assumed was the paper, before turning back to the doctor. "Oh, that would be rather kind of you. I admit that writing is not one of my strong suits. It was hard enough to learn to do it in the first place." She nods, "If you would be so kind as to lead me to a place where we can sit down, perhaps you can do the writing for me?" She flashes her bright smile again. Once she's seated, she looks back at the doctor, "Have you been working in the clinic for long...?"

"Of course, madam," replies Prabhakar, reaching out to lightly touch her bicep. "About two yards to your right there are some chairs, and the nearest ones are empty." Reaching over the desk with his tail, he retrieves an empty clipboard, bringing it up to deposit it in his free hand, then he'll lead her over to the chairs and into one. The questions are basic; name, history, that sort of thing. A bit "lighter" than an actual job application, really. It's simple stuff, easily allowing chat between questions. "Ah, I have worked here for almost four months now, actually. I must say it is--very exciting.  Have you lived here long, madam?" The courteous smile stays on his face as he glances to her, turning his head out of habit more than anything else.

Emira nods, "I moved here shortly after I turned sixteen." She confirms, answering application form questions when they come up between bits of their conversation. "I live a few miles from here, actually, in a little apartment." She nods, "Do you get a lot of business here? I'm curious to know what you generally have to deal with here on a regular basis..."

A quiet chuckle from the doctor, and he replies, "Well, it is usually busy, as you might be able to hear. We happily offer our services to any who need it, including the homeless and otherwise indigent.  We deal with everything from colds to broken bones and everything else.  There is also laboratory work; analyses of samples and results of tests.  Have you seen very much of this sort of thing since you moved here?"

"I've seen people who are sick and injured, yes. Many of them. I've usually been able to heal them, but there are those few who do not want help." She looks a little apologetic. "I don't do anything laboratory-wise... eyes that can see are required for most lab work as far as I know." She smiles a little, "But I do a lot of healing, when I happen to come across someone who needs it. I don't always know how to get to them though, even when I know they're nearby... There is a small group -- I assume a family -- of people who are rather sick right now for instance, perhaps three blocks from here... but I have no idea how I would get to them to help..." She looks a little disappointed, "So I just have to hope that someone comes to me, or I happen to be walking right by someone who needs my help."

"Well, here, you will have plenty to keep yourself occupied, I am sure," says Prabhakar, smiling wider and tilting his head up a little from the form to look around. So many bodies, so many people, their heat patterns throbbing or pulsating in their pain and illnesses. Turning his attention back to the form, he asks her a few more basic questions--references, availability, that sort of thing, then lightly touches her hand with a fingertip. "If all of this is accurate, you will need to sign here, where I have my fingertip," he tells her, offering her the clipboard and pen by lightly touching them to her hand so she knows where they are.

Emira blinks and nods as the clipboard is handed to her, and she feels for the fingertip... then begins to write her name, very carefully. Once she's done she releases the clipboard and sits back in her chair. "...Well then. Did you have to check references and the like? Or do you already have a time where I may be able to do some good around here?" She moved to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face, where it had been tickling her nose. "I'm ready to start whenever. Now, if necessary." She smiles sweetly, "I'd like to think that I could clear up a good bit of your current patients."

"We can check such things later," says Prabhakar as he takes the clipboard and pen back. "We tend to operate on the honor system, here,, where we put our faith and trust in the decency of people. " A beat's pause, and he grins at her, adding, "Even when some of them seem to display every other quality." Thankfully it's been few and far between that they've really had to deal with any of a truly "bad" sort, which he attributes to their general attitude toward people--help one and all, wherever the need is present. "Right, then, shall I give you the nickel tour, then we can see what you feel up to doing, hmm?" he says as he gets to his feet, reaching out to brush a fingertip on her hand ot let her know it's there, a silent offering to take her hand and help lead her some more.

((Fade Out on the Nickel Tour))