It felt as though it had been weeks, waiting for them to explain the situation in full. Now as you step in through over the threshold, you catch sight of the doctor, a dark colored pegasus, wandering in to do just that. His face tells no happy tale - there is news to deliver, yes. But his expression is no more jovial than when he had first set sight on the battered stallion brought in a few hours ago. The pegasus clears his throat, glancing over the clipboard he'd brought with him, as though confirming, perhaps for the hundredth time, his information himself. As you draw near, he calls out to you in whatever name you have given them, and gestures for you to join him in a more secluded space of the waiting room, away from the prying eyes and ears of those here under slightly more pleasant circumstances. His voice is a practiced soft sotto voce as he outlines Damien's condition.
Grave damage has been inflicted on his heart and diaphragm, and one lung has been punctured. But beyond that, he is constantly bleeding internally of a large cluster of damaged blood vessels. An emergency transfusion and medication has given him time, and apparently dampened the effects he is suffering, such as delusion, labored breathing, and exhaustion...but there is very little they can do to save him outright. The doctor clears his throat again, nervously, as he goes on to explain that if he is kept in treatment, under supervision and with consistent transfusions and medication, he has, at their estimate, three or four months before succumbing to either heart failure, bleed out, or suffocation as his lung wound worsens.
If for any reason his treatment were to cease, he would most likely begin to suffer delusions within twenty four hours...and Damien Bishop would be dead in less than a week.