*It's been a while since we checked in with Raph, huh? That's about to change, but I wanted to give you a small vocabulary lesson first, to make it easier to understand what's going on. The methods being employed are grounded in herbal medicine, which Splinter fortunately has a lot of experience with.
A tincture is a concentrated liquid extract of herbs, which can be used internally or externally, as in Raphael's case. An onion poultice is extremely beneficiary for breaking up chest congestion, and involves little more than making a paste and applying along with heat. It's not much fun, but it's all part of the process...
His head hurt. It hurt, and it wouldn't stop hurting. The turtle couldn't understand why the chills that were making the rest of his body feel numb had absolutely no effect on the raging headache. Raphael was irritated enough to put his fist through a wall, but his arms were currently much too heavy to lift.
The only thing competing for his annoyance with the non-stop throbbing was the limited amount of breath he could draw. The blanket covering his plastron felt like a mountain, crushing the life out of his chest. The sheer effort it took to fill his lungs with air was astounding.
He felt the familiar tight fit of an Oxi over his mouth, but it had taken him a long time to realize what the mask was. At least it felt like a long time. I don't know how long I've been lying here. Seems like days.
There were voices occasionally, but most of them felt far away, as if they were traveling through a distant tunnel to reach him. Other times they were oddly high-pitched and grating, or babbling in a language that he couldn't recognize. When Raphael tried to speak in return, his tongue wouldn't cooperate with his brain, leaving the turtle to wonder if he'd forgotten how to talk entirely.
Raphael would have been satisfied to do nothing but sleep, but the difficulty with breathing made it impossible to rest deeply. At the moment, he wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep. The only thing he knew for certain was that he was exhausted and overwhelmed by the exertion of accomplishing anything.
Breathe in and out. I can do that much. Long as I don't forget to remind myself. No pressure.
The sensation of fresh dampness settling around his neck encouraged him to believe in the reality of what he was feeling. He tried to open his eyes, and they made it about halfway. The turtle could make out a fuzzy patch of blue, which slowly transformed from an indistinct blur into the hovering figure of someone he recognized.
"Raph?"
Doc. He wanted to respond to him, to ask Luke to knock him out if nothing else, so he could find some relief. The turtle's mouth still wasn't working. He struggled to simply stay focused on the man in front of him and grasp what he was saying.
"…some of this might get a little strong, but it's nothing you haven't dealt with before."
What? How'd I miss something already?
"We have to bring your fever down before we can take the next step."
Why am I bothering to listen? I'll be lucky if I remember any of this.
"…keep doing the best we can to make your comfortable."
Raphael wanted to laugh. You think I'm comfortable, Man? You should trade places with me.
A sharp scent caught the turtle's attention and drew his eyes back to Luke. The smell was reminiscent of something from the past. It was predominated by vinegar, but he could also detect herbal elements. Why's that familiar?
"The tincture solution should help cool you down as it evaporates from your skin. We're going old school, Raph, but Marc and I have an expert to help us."
Evaporates? Raphael watched in confusion as the doctor began applying compresses to his exposed skin, all bearing the same peculiar scent as the first. The turtle shuddered. Why do I need to get cooler? I'm already freezing.
"I know you don't feel well, and I'm really sorry. We're going to help you," Luke said firmly.
Sheer determination allowed Raphael to crack his lips. "Thir-sty."
"You've been having a really hard time swallowing. I know it isn't fair to ask you to wait, but you choked on the last three attempts."
There were attempts?
"We can try some ice chips if you'd just like some moisture."
"No." The single syllable was the only other thing he could force out as his eyes slid closed.
"Resting is good, Raph. You'll get through this, and then we can work on the next part."
Wish I knew what that was, he thought bleakly, before rational thought dropped away from him again.
The next several minutes/hours/days were a blur. The concept of time meant nothing to the turtle, because it was impossible to measure. The heat was oppressive, boiling, burning to the point that he almost missed the ice in his bones. He was uncomfortable in the skin that had become a furnace, and more thirsty than ever.
The touch of soft coolness against his face drew Raphael to open his eyes, and he managed a little wider than before.
"You're doing really well, Raph." Luke's voice was soothing, but the turtle felt so terrible that he wanted to punch him. "Your fever is breaking. As soon as your temperature drops a bit lower, we can apply the poultice."
Poultice? From the recesses of his memories, the word struck a chord. Sensei used to make those…I remember that one winter when I was so sick I could hardly breathe. Kind of like now, only I don't recall my head ever hurting this much. When's someone gonna do something about that? He gave Luke a desperate glance, wishing the man could read his thoughts.
"…have to apply heat along with the poultice for it to work its magic."
More heat? Are you outta your mind? I'm on fire as it is.
"This is all working toward the goal of helping you breathe easier, Raph. That sounds good, doesn't it?"
The turtle managed a grunt in response.
"I'll take that as a yes."
You're a freaking genius. Now make me feel better.
Another wave of heat rolled over him, and his vision fazed along with it. He closed his eyes and longed for sleep. The faint sound of someone working in the background faded in and out like a radio tuner that was searching for a station with signal strength.
"I think that we ought to proceed, Dr. Barrows. I cannot bear to watch this any longer."
The voice made Raphael jolt and immediately try to open his eyes.
"Easy, Raph," Luke encouraged him.
No, not him, it wasn't…"Sensei?" he whispered.
"I am here, my son." His father's voice was a rock that he was happy to cling to.
"Where?"
"Do not force yourself to speak, Raphael, not just yet."
"I…need…"
"Shh. Not yet," Splinter ordered.
I wanna see you. I need to break out of my own head. Help me, Sensei.
"Apply the gauze first, over the entire area," Splinter said. "You will get better coverage that way. The warm towel goes on top of the poultice."
"How long do you want to leave it on to…"
Words buzzed beyond his comprehension, and Raphael was disappointed to retreat. He would have much rather held onto his father's voice.
When his mind drifted this time, confusing scents still warred with his senses. The sharp vinegar smell was being overwhelmed by onions now. It reminded Raphael more of being in the kitchen than a hospital. Not in a hospital. Can't go there.
He tried rolling his neck to the side, and was grateful to find that he could at least move his head. However, it did nothing to help the incessant drum beat in his skull. He imagined that the only thing which could make things worse at that moment was the urge to cough developing in his throat. He fought against the tickle with every ounce of energy he had. Raphael's breath turned into a gasp as he battled the evil compulsion.
"No, Raph, relax," Luke urged. "Let it out. You'll feel better."
I seriously doubt it.
Regardless, he couldn't hold it back forever, and he knew it. The back of the bed supporting him rose higher, and he felt hands removing the ever-present Oxi mask. The cough that began feebly in his throat rapidly compounded upon itself, forcing him to gag violently.
Someone guided him with firm hands to lean in a different position. He had no control over the impulse which caused him to wretch so hard that he swore he lost an organ. Raphael heaved for air in between coughing and his head feeling like it was going to explode, eventually weakened to the point that he slumped forward.
A pair of arms caught him, supporting him back to where he wanted him to be. Raphael's eyes opened, focusing first on Marcus holding a pan for him.
"You're going to be all right, Raph," Luke told him.
Raphael fixed a murderous glance on the blond-haired doctor holding on to him. "I hate you," he rasped.
"You're going to love us when you can breathe normally."
He suffered through several more seconds of the wretched coughing before he could speak again. "Hurts."
"I'm sorry, Raph. It has to come up."
The turtle was sweating so badly by the time his body stopped churning that it felt like he'd been inside a sauna. He was completely worn out, but breathing was already much less of a chore.
"Feels good to clear your lungs, doesn't it?" Luke suggested.
"Shut up," he retorted, without any real power behind his voice.
"You did well, Raph. If you can hold on to some of that cough, you won't need to do that again."
"I will h-hurt you," he threatened.
"That is no way to speak to your friend, Raphael," Splinter chided him.
The turtle's eyes roved to the right, searching out his Sensei. The rat was seated slightly apart from them, bearing a mask of his own.
"It was my recipe that made you sick just now," his father continued. "Would you like to hurt me?"
"No, Sensei."
"Be nice to your healers, my son. They are fighting hard to make you better."
"My head," he moaned. "Please?"
"Oh…" Luke stood to his feet. "Mix the flu with a concussion, and it doesn't make for fun times. I don't want to throw anything too heavy at you, Raph, because I don't want to knock you out completely. Maybe some more of your Sensei's herbs could come into play."
"Long as I don't throw up," he said sleepily, exhaling with the sweetest breath he'd had in hours.