A.N: So basically I'm making an OC doctor because I love physics, old medicine and Attack on Titan.
I'm making a few assumptions here. Firstly, electricity is available, but is mainly confined to the rich people and the military. The Scouting Legion needs it for Hanji's experiments, and our doctor makes use of it as well - in fact, she's currently researching the humble X-ray. Erwin does not approve.
Secondly, medicine is late Victorian to Edwardian, I'm guessing. They know of the link between dirt and disease and all that fascinating stuff. (Shut up, it really is!) Penicillin, chloroform and opiates are used, but herbal remedies are a big part of their medicine as well. Amputations are common.
On with the show!
Eren is nervous. He really shouldn't be, what with all the crap he's been through, but he is honest to God scared. Petra's presence in from of him, her jaunty walk making her ginger hair wave, is the only thing keeping him from having a full-blown panic attack. She looks back at him and smiles reassuringly. "Come on, Eren. Don't be so worried! Levi just wanted you to get a physical-"
"Hanji already gave me one!"
"A proper, medical physical by a proper, qualified doctor," she finishes, undeterred. "Seriously, she's really nice."
"W... will she give me an injection...?" he asks warily. He really really doesn't like injections, and those dreams of his deranged father bearing down on him with a wicked looking needle are most definitely to blame.
"Oh, no, not at all!" She shakes her head and his shoulders slump in relief. "She hates them too, so she only gives them when absolutely necessary, and when she does, she gets 'em over with quickly!" Petra's smile brightens, and then dims. "Even if she has to go puke after..."
Before he knows it, they've reached the unassuming wooden door that houses the doctor's clinic. 'Dr. Bakker' the nameplate proclaims, letters littered after the name like the trail of a 3DMG. A large green cross is carved into the door.
Petra knocks. "Zina! Doctor Zina!" she yells, hammering on the door.
"Just a second!" a woman yells, and continues in a quieter voice. "Just take one spoonful of this every day, and the runs will go eventually. Try to fix that shower, too. Sleeping in a damp room is incredibly bad for you. And avoid that homebrew cider too!"
The door opens, letting a sickly man with a bottle of paregoric cradled in his hands leave. The woman he assumes to be the doctor sighs, pushing her hair back from her forehead. "Ever since Tiedemann made that dodgy cider, the entire barracks has been suffering from the trots! I'm almost out of paregoric... Well, at least it isn't cholera. Come in, come in."
Eren walks in the door after Petra. The clinic is small, and even cleaner than Levi's quarters, excepting the small desk stacked with paperwork shoved into the corner. The main room contains three huge cabinets with labels stuck haphazardly all over them, and a large examination table takes up the centre of the room. The walls are covered with diagrams of the human anatomy and eye charts,. He notices scales for height and weight, a microscope, and things like thermometers, tuning forks, and stethoscopes are scattered on the cabinets.
Two doors lead from the room. One curtained door leads into what he assumes is a rudimentary operating theatre, what with the antiseptic soaps and water faucets displayed prominently on the wall outside. The other has a big yellow sign on the front, three curved rays leading out from a central circle. He wanders towards it, but the doctor pulls him back. "No, don't go in there! Our dear Commander won't give me any more lead, so that room is off-limits. Sit up on table like a good soldier. You're Eren Jaeger, right? Major Hanji's told me all about you."
She scrutinizes him while he hops up o the table, so he takes the chance to examine her back. Her hair is short like Petra's, but darker, fluffier and just plain messier, and her forehead is rutted with frown lines, but her smile is pleasant enough. "Are you a soldier?" he asks. She isn't wearing the proper uniform of the Scouting Legion; instead, she is wearing a loose maroon shirt and dark pants, with a long white coat over it all. She does not bear the Scouring Legion's wings of freedom either, and instead bears a weird symbol of a snake entwined around a rod on her back.
She shakes her head vehemently. "No way! I couldn't use Three-Dimensional Manoeuvre Gear if my life depended on it!" She scowls. "I wish we didn't have to depend on it. Do you know how many leather burns I've treated?"
Petra laughs. "Don't haze the poor boy! He looks scared of you!"
Hers cowl softens. "Sorry. The Commander is being unreasonable, and I've had a long day... Let's begin, shall we? Jaeger, how old are you?" She pulls out a clipboard.
He reels off vital facts for her, (15, 30th March 835, born full-term, no allergies, no underlying medical condition... apart from the whole turning into a crazy Titan thing) and she scribbles them all down, eyeing him critically. She weighs him and measures him and calculates some stupid ratio that he doesn't understand, but it turns out he's at a healthy size for his age. Petra has sat down behind Zina's desk and is rifling through some paperwork. Occasionally Zina tells her to leave that one alone, or to look over that particular one.
She shines lights into his eyes and ears with a mirror and awkward angles, rings a tuning fork to test his ears, and makes him read the eye chart. Zina then grabs this weird wooden thing and presses down his tongue, and he starts sputtering and spitting at her. She gets flustered and leaps away from him, yelping at him to stay still. "I really don't want you coming down with tonsillitis," she mutters, peering down his throat. "Captain Levi would absolutely murder me."
She makes him take off his shirt, and probes his chest, stretches out his arms and measures his breadth. "Have you been doing abdominal crunches?" the doctor asks absentmindedly. He nods, and she responds tersely, "Stop. You'll ruin your back," and pulls out a really nice diagram of a ruined spine. She checks his heart with a stethoscope and presses two fingers under his jaw, counting betas under her breath. "It's a little slow," she says, "but I think that's good." Zina then measures his blood pressure, wrapping a cuff around his arm and watching the mercury go up on the scale. She nods, satisfied. "Shirt on, "she orders.
Zina then rolls up his pants, which leads to a moment of panic ("I have no wish to see your boxers," she says, laughing) ,pulls on his legs and hits his knee with a little hammer to test his reflexes (he's proud to say he almost kicks her in the face), and then finally examines the smoothness of his skin, chewing on her lip, as he fixes his clothes.
"You're healthier than a horse, Jaeger" she says finally, standing up. "No scars, which is something I wouldn't expect... I'm assuming it's the Titan's regenerative abilities. Speaking of Titans..." She grabs his hand towards her and examines it. "You bite your hand to summon it, am I correct?"
"Yes, m..."
"Zina," she supplies. "No need to be formal."
"Yes, I do, except sometimes... it doesn't work." He shrinks into the table.
"That's exactly what I'm worried about. I know you heal fast, but biting your hand like that can't be good, especially if you're leaving it for a while. Humans shouldn't even be able to bite through their own skin like that..." She shifts from one leg to another. "If we could develop some alternative method... but the Commander will call it a waste of resources, and we've haven't got much time besides..." Zina wanders off towards one of her cabinets, as Petra stands up and stretches.
"All done?" she whispers into Eren's ear.
"Yeah," he says, sliding off the table. "It wasn't that bad, really. She's nicer than I thought."
"Thank you!" Zina calls over her shoulder, and Eren freezes with embarrassment. "Here, this is for you." She hands him a small pot and a roll of bandages. "If a bite ever fails, apply the poultice and bandage it. I'm sure you can find some pocket in your uniform." She claps him on the back. "Take care, okay? If you have any problems, my door is open... unless I'm performing an amputation." She grins at him, her eyes crinkled into a smile.
"Yeah!" he manages.
Petra hugs Zina (the doctor squawks and tries to get out of her embrace) and they leave together, Zina standing in her door, watching their twin pairs of wings recede into the distance.
