[The Opal Temple] Healing Hands

[Oriela]

Healing Hands Timestamp: 15th of Spring, 506 AV Oriela liked the temperature in the Opal Temple's caverns. It was just right to work in - not too cold, but there was no humidity either. It was partly because of the volumes of water down here, with some of the caverns tidally flooded. She was a relatively new student to the Opal Order, but the path itself was not a new one. She had been marked by Rak'keli at birth, destined all her life to become a healer. Training to become an Opal healer was simply a formal step on that path - and one she was more than ready to take. Her studies took all forms. She spent much of her time in the Medical Library, trying to devour all the core texts every healer should know like the back of their hands. There were classes too - theoretical ones, and practical ones. At the moment, she was sat at a desk in a room of eight or nine other students. They were listening to an explanation on vital signs, and how to tell if someone was still alive, and could be saved. She scribbled into her notepad, writing down anything she wouldn't be able to immediately commit to memory. She did remember an awful lot though, like a sponge absorbing all the interesting bits of information and knowledge. Of course, she used some of her time to pray to Rak'keli too. For it was the beautiful Goddess of life and health that had given her this opportunity in the first place.

[Oriela]

She should check airways of a collapsed patient, pressing her ears close to the mouth to see if she could hear anything. The breath of life. Then she should check for a pulse, to make sure the heart was beating, and if so, was it beating regularly? There should be a pattern to the beats, and it should not exceed a certain speed. She had to make sure the gaps between each pulse were not irregular, otherwise there could be further complications. All this information, she continued to make notes on. But they were words. Though she listened and understood, she wanted to apply the skills practically. She wanted to save somebodies life. There were ways of trying to make the heart start beating again if it stopped, too. She listened intently, watching the instructor demonstrate with his hands. Clasping one over the other, with the palm flat, there was a pumping motion against the chest. Compressions, he called them. The motion could jolt the heart back to life. How beautiful it must be, she thought, to bring a patient back from the brink of death. The sweet taste of salvation, pulled from Dira's grasp. Bless Rak'keli.