If this isn’t a statement on American health care, I don’t know what is.

I skipped a step, going down the stairs today (I was texting while walking- it was the hubby and about the kid, so sue me, this is why I don’t text and drive) and badlyrolled my ankle. In the few moments between hearing the pop of the side of my ankle meeting pavement, and the confirmation that I could in fact still walk on it, albeit painfully, the only thing I could think of was the fact that I have no health insurance, I can’t afford to have a broken anything.

In those moments, the only thing I should have been concerned with about a broken bone was how I was going to keep up with my year and a half old. Not $$. Yet, here I am a few hours later, willing the swelling and pain to be gone.

Cause that’s sound medical advice? Right?

Right?!

When the whumpee has hurt their ankle, and the caretaker has gotten them settled in bed, then left them alone for a few minutes to go gather an ice pack and some water, and the whumpee decides to try to stand up and grab something from the other side of the room. The whumpee falling as soon as they try to put weight on their injured ankle, and landing on the floor with a loud thump. The caretaker hurrying back to the whumpee, and finding them sitting on the floor, clutching their ankle with tears running down their cheeks. The caretaker gently helping the whumpee back into bed, and carefully checking to make sure they haven’t made their ankle worse, then settling an ice pack on it. The whumpee hissing slightly at the sudden cold, and the caretaker asking them how they ended up on the floor. The whumpee admitting that they were trying to grab something, and the caretaker getting it for them, then handing them some water and telling them to just ask for help next time, instead of risking hurting themself even more.

When the whumpee is exhausted and has hurt their ankle, but they’re still trying to get out of bed. Their teammates standing and having a conversation, having no idea how to keep them there short of sitting on them, but the youngest one just leaving the room. The rest of the team following the youngest curiously, and seeing them just crawling into bed with the whumpee. The youngest then curling up against the whumpee’s side, hugging them, and then going to sleep. The whumpee being torn between being annoyed at the youngest for making it so they can’t get up without waking them, and enjoying the cuddles. The rest of their teammates watching from the doorway, and the whumpee glaring at them, then reaching down to stroke the youngest’s hair, then letting themself fall asleep too.

Fugue - Chapter 6 - Janekfan - Pokemon Legends: Arceus (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Lady Sneasler was going to be upset.

Lady Irida. Well. She was probably going to kill him.

After their.

Conversation.

Ingo had promised to be careful. To eat and sleep and rest, as they put it, like a normal human with human needs.

“Sne-snea?” Little Lady hopped on his chest where he lay on his back in the powder, tattered coat spread behind him like a poorly made snowangel.

“Merely a slight derailment.” Scratching under her chin, Ingo tried to ignore the throbbing in his ankle. Of all things, he’d slipped on a loose stone while doing his rounds. There’d been a sharp pop! and a wash of hot pain up the outside of his leg. There was no putting weight on it but he was fairly certain he hadn’t broken anything. Deeply, he sighed, rolling his Celestica flute between chilly fingers while his partner made herself comfortable on his chest, blinking slowly at him as he mulled over what to do.

Instinct demanded he hide what happened. It wouldn’t do to make him worry, not when he would be fine in a week or so.

Him?

Him, who? Them. It wouldn’t do to make them worry needlessly when he really was alright.

But, on the other hand, Ingo was fairly certain he wouldn’t be walking anywhere under his own power. He sighed again, watching the plume of his breath blend in with the clouds drifting lazily by. His ankle hurt. Should he even manage to stand alone, the thought of limping all the way home like this was not appealing. Diamond dust sparkled beneath the clear mantle of the sky. Ingo pressed the flute to his lips and listened to the notes carried away by the wind.

“Mm!” Ingo hissed after tugging off his boot while Little Lady and her mother both examined the purple swelling of his foot with concern, churring back and forth to each other which was really very unfair. Applying a snowpack relieved some of the pain, enough for Ingo to nibble on the dried berries he was offered while he tore long strips of cloth to use for bandages. He wrapped everything securely, wiggling his toes to check for numbness, and even held his arm out for help in standing. Sneasler hovered as he tried a few unsteady half steps on his own. Better. But he’d still be tent-bound for at least a few days with how sore and weak it was.

Later, trying to sleep with his leg elevated, the pain pulsed like dull thunder up into his hip and it was enough to keep him stubbornly awake despite his exhaustion. Little Lady, thank Sinnoh, was kind enough to bring fresh snow to keep it from getting too terrible and kept him company, neatly grooming his messy hair with her sandpaper tongue. While he feared he would never escape these attentions, all told, it was a small price to pay, and at some point the gentle rhythm of her ministrations swept him away.