Whenever there is conflict or disease you will find medical men and women trying to heal the sick and the maimed. Most are perfectly good people, but by no means not all of them. Whilst many live to serve and do their best for those who they treat, a minority will harm or even kill them, accidentally or otherwise.
Med-pods, med-bays, and a dozen trade marked names, all for the technomagical healing bed.
A mad scientist, a cyborg, a visionary, a man of god
Not a racially segregated hospital, but rather the Private Medical Complex
The G&M, or GaMa Corp, not to be confused with the larger GM corporation.
It is taken for granted that medical technologies will advance apace in the future, permitting rapid healing and perhaps even shaping of the human body. This submission is to provide possible flavors for that medicine to come in.
At that moment the drizzle eased, and Ledoik could see as plain as day a blight upon the fields near the edge of the forest. Like a rock dropped into a pond, a wave of lighter shades of green emanated from the blights centre. Growing from the forest, where it was darkest, the field got lighter and lighter the further away it was from the blight. It was clear enough. The commander barked words, organising the archers, the few catapults they had and the giant rockslings to this side of the battlements. He motioned them to aim towards the blight, the dark patch near the fields edge
Blood, biles black and yellow and phlegm, these are the four vital humours that govern our bodies. Understand them, and health is a simple matter.
St. Gray of Galen, Lectures
A palimpsest is a manuscript, usually of papyrus or parchment, on which more than one text has been written with the earlier writing incompletely erased and still visible.
The accepted mode of getting otherwise unobtainable information is to go visit the cranky old hermit living in the mountains. It's just the sensible thing to do. So, naturally, everyone takes their monthly excursion to the hermit's hovel to consult him on everything, from lock-jaw to lovesickness, necromancers to nasal viruses.
Now, if everyone's always visiting the poor old hermit, there's going to be an enormous queue... "Wellcome to the Hermitt's Hovele, Please Take Ye a Number and Have Ye a Seate" reads the sign outside the packed dwelling.
Imagine the poor hermit, having retreated into the mountains to escape this precise situation...