As he tied off the last suture, Mykel gave his patient a clap on the shoulder - he was a rancher by the name of Jakob, injured when some marauding fools tried to make off with some of his livestock. Fools, because they had no idea Jakob was prepared for the likes of them, prepared with the biggest shotgun Mykel had ever seen, probably 8- or 6-gauge. Needless to say, the idiots wouldn't be trying to steal anything from anyone any time soon. Or ever again, for that matter. Today had been fairly successful for him, he had gained a few days' worth of food and clean water, and even a little bit of medical supplies. Mostly the same stuff he's used throughout the day - nylon wire for more sutures, gauze, a couple antibiotic pills. Those he was surprised about, and hopefully Mykel would be able to use them before they expire.<br/>Thankfully, nothing to terribly pressing had come through Mykal's door today; just a cut or praise here or there. Sometimes, he longed for the days when he would treat major illnesses every day, maybe a case of Lupus would surprise him one day, or even Necrotizing Fasciitis. In some ways - in fact most ways - times were simpler back then. He could charge someone atleast a few hundred dollars for what he did here today, and he could be sure to get it. There was also of course the fact that he didn't have to contend with a radiation-blasted landscape, trading a bag of meat bits for treatment. Still, he felt he'd grown to appreciate his life now. The people needed him, just as he needed them. Sometimes, Mykal even got the urge to give free medical care, but that really wasn't feasible in today's ... economy.<br/>Mykal went about the clinic, cleaning blood off the floor where it had spilled, and disposing of all the trash in what made due for the biohazard containment - an old trashcan with a locking lid. One by one, he switched off his machines from standby - he wasn't even quite sure why he kept them on, he almost never used them. Perhaps habit, perhaps hope, or maybe their soft hum of life made him feel a little less alone in his kingdom of medicine. As he wiped down the operating table with an alcohol-soaked rag, he couldn't help but whistle a tune to break his own silence, some old television show theme from a long time ago.<br/>God! How long has it been since Mykal watched television?