Medical Bay
Even the circulation of air can't quite keep the antiseptic smell from this room. Immaculately clean, the tiles of the floor are the same pristine white as the walls. Gadgets and gizmos abound. The highest medical technology available for all the races that might conceivably come to the station are present. A pair of beds near the door provide places for emergent cases, their bioscan devices ready for monitoring. Doors lead to rooms for surgery, short-term care, and long-term care. (OOC note: To set your room doing, try 'I'm <doing>'.)
Contents:
Tara, standing by the door.
Clara, standing by the door.
Obvious Exits:
Short Term Care Chief's Office Elevator Lounge
Greer arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Greer has arrived.
Greer(#1048pq)
She's wearing a jumper dress of bright red corduroy, its skirt bobbling with the movement of her knees. The pocket on its front panel is empty and held shut by a brass button. A short-sleeved T-shirt beneath the straps of the dress matches her white knee socks, and black patent leather buckled shoes somehow seem to remain impeccably clean and shiny. For a human girl merely 6 years, 7 months, and 11 days old, this young lady has a rather quiet air about her. Her motions are tiny and efficient, and her sweet childish soprano is soft enough to be easily lost to background noise. Straight blonde hair of purest sunny gold is gathered by a bow at the back of her head to form a long ponytail, her bangs clipped neatly over her eyebrows. Her eyes of cornflower blue, flat and expressionless, are perched over a button nose, dimpled cheeks, and a Cupid's bow mouth. All in all, she's just too cute for words.
Clara is just logging off a terminal and leaning back in a chair to rub at her eyes before seeing a certain pair come in. She offers a smile, rising to her feet. "Well, well, well. Welcome back, both of you. How's your day been?"
Greer, her eyes wide, wanders right around the desk to explore. There's gotta be neat stuff here somewhere. "It was fine," she answers absently. "We saw ducks. Then we ate duck." Tara snickers softly, giving the doctor a wave. "We had duck for lunch, at the Fruvous, she means."
Clara watches the child explore with tolerant amusement, leaning against the desk with her arms folded. See, there's really nothing readily available except maybe a stethoscope and a speculum or two. "Ducks are good for seeing, and they don't make a bad lunch, true enough. And the Fruvous is a fantastic place."
Greer lights on said speculum with a gleam in her eyes. Ohhhhh, the nifty things she could do with /that/. Tara leans on the desk, nodding her agreement as her eyes follow her daughter. "Dang ducks are vicious, too, when they realized we had bread. We didn't have it for long!"
"No joke," Clara agrees, still watching Greer closely but still not too worried. She'll just dart the kid if she gets too obnoxious. Uh-oh...cheerful doctor today? Folks may wish to take cover. "The ducks are just about scary. I tried to do some work out there a few times, but got duck-attacked." She pauses, then notes gently, "Greer? Are you ready?"
Greer jumps slightly, spinning around. "Ready? For what? Oh... That's right. You're going to repair my brain, aren't you." Still holding onto the speculum, she steps over toward the doctor. "I am ready. I'm not afraid." Tara gives Clara a sympathetic look. "Maybe if you hired 'em as nurses they'd flee?"
Clara peers down at the speculum thoughtfully, then gives the girl a grin. "Sure thing, I am. And if you'd like to hold onto that for now, you're more than welcome to." No, she's not -about- to tell a six year old child what she's holding. Fortunately, it's been utterly sterilized. "Aww, my nurses are scary enough," she adds, prompting a grin and mock teeth chomp from a passing Giani. "This way, ladies?" she suggests, gesturing after the nurse heading into STC.
Tara takes a deep breath, taking Greer's hand lest the child bolt despite protestations of courage. "Here we go."
You pass through the swinging doors into the Short Term Care ward.
Short Term Care Ward
All is quiet here, save for the occasional moan alerting a nurse more pain medication is needed. Impeccably clean, the ward stretches for quite a ways from the door. The nurses' desk, always manned, is tucked to one side inside the door, facing the corridor. Opposite that is the large cabinet holding medicine and supplies. Half a dozen beds line each side of the ward, separated by temporary partitions.
Obvious exits:
Out
Greer comes in from the medical bay.
Greer has arrived.
Clara comes in from the medical bay.
Clara has arrived.
>>OOC: Clara tosses up a sign that says 'Operating Room'. ;)
>>OOC: Tara grins.
Clara leads the way to the operating room, to a table that's already been prepped, the appropriate monitors and instruments already circling. A few nurses go about last minute preparations. "Okay, here's where we're going to work. Now, Greer, I'd like you to put these on," she notes, tugging some snap scrubs from the table to hand to the child. "There's a changing room right over there."
Greer takes the items, looking them over curiously, then she compares them to the ones the nurse is wearing. "Similar," she notes before heading into the changing room. Tara starts to pace, just slightly, nervously cracking her knuckles every three seconds or so.
Clara waits until the child has gone, then steps over to squeeze your shoulder reassuringly. "Just relax, Tara, if you can. I know...this isn't going to be easy. But I have to ask now, do you want to stay? If so, you'll need to change into scrubs as well. I'm going to also in just a moment."
Tara grins ruefully, but nods. "Yeah, I'd rather stay. Not that I don't trust ya, you understand. It's just... well, she's my /kid/, y'know?"
Clara turns to liberate another pair of scrubs, this time without the various snaps, more like what she'll be wearing herself but in light lavender. A white mask is atop the folded scrubs. "I understand entirely, trust me. There's another changing room over there, and I'll just run back to my office. Giani? If the girl comes out before I'm back, let her know precisely where I've gone, and that I'll be back shortly." The nurse nods her assurance with a bright grin.
Tara nods, taking the scrubs with a grateful, weak smile. "Oh thank God. I thought they'd be orange..." trails back after Tara as she ducks into the free changing room. That's when Greer pokes her head out before coming all way out, dudded up in the snappy things, and clutching that speculum.
Clara pauses on her way out the door to offer a grin back to Greer. "Hey there, you. Good job at the scrubs. Most adults don't even handle them that neatly. Mind waiting here a moment while I go change into my own?"
Greer shakes her head slightly, turning to explore again. "Take your time." She glides across the floor toward a neuroanalyzer.
Clara doesn't seem worried. The neuroanalyzer is off, and actually most of the items in the room are locked in some way. The doctor knew precisely who she was operating on, and childproofed OR ahead of time. She slips out of the room, gone no more than five minutes before returning in pristine white scrubs, a mask dangling about her neck, and a full surgery apron secured in place.
This doesn't stop Greer from trying, of course. After a fruitless few minutes of flipping switches, she ponders the machine, muttering something about screwdrivers. Tara returns while she's doing this, not looking much less nervous behind her own mask.
Clara flashes Tara another reassuring smile before coming up to stand behind Greer in decided amusement. "It's locked," she notes affably. "To my own retinal print. Sorry. All ready? I do, by the way, have chocolate ice cream in my office for after this."
Greer wrinkles her nose, looking up at the doctor. "Is there a user's manual I can read, at least?" Interest flashes in her eyes. "Ice cream? -Chocolate- ice cream? I'm ready," she promptly decides.
"There isn't exactly a user's manual, but there's a section in the reference library on Regulus with an entire shelf dedicated to the machine," Clara responds, heading over to the table to hold out her hands. "C'mon over here and I'll help you up. And yes, chocolate ice cream. I figure all three of us might enjoy it when this is done."
"That'll do." The child heads over to be lifted, not seeing the spark of amusement in her mother's eyes as Tara murmurs, "They give you courses in med school in how to deal with children, don't they?"
Clara hoists the girl up onto the operating table easily. "There you go, champ. Now you just lay down with your head up here, and we'll get started. Do you like grape flavoring?" she asks, then glances back at Tara with a broad grin and a slight shrug that plainly says, 'oh, yeah'.
Greer scoots back, glancing over her shoulder before she lays down. "Grape flavoring? On chocolate ice cream? I've never had that before." Tara settles back against a wall, folding her arms- she's trying to keep from pacing. Even beneath the mask it's obvious she returns the grin.
Clara wrinkles her nose, turning back to the child with a black inhibitor strip in her hands that she carefully places on the girl's forehead. "Not on the ice cream, goodness no. But I'm going to have to put a bite pad in your mouth so you don't grind your teeth while I do this. I've got grape flavor, mint flavor, raspberry flavor, and bubblegum."
Greer 's nose wrinkles. "That /would/ make an awful noise," she agrees. "Anything but mint." She gets that from her mother. "Bubblegum," she finally decides.
Clara clicks on the inhibitor, effectively stopping all pain to the child, then heads over to scrub up and tug on her gloves and mask before returning with said bite pad. "Okay, I'm going to put this in your mouth. You're going to fall asleep here very soon, so don't fight it. Just relax, all right?"
Greer nods, obediently opening her mouth. Her grasp on her new toy gets a little bit tighter though.
Clara settles the bite pad in place, then nods at Giani who moves to simply rest her hand on the girl's arm comfortingly as Clara hooks an IV into the other arm. It isn't long before the general anesthetic kicks into play, coming on quickly, although measured for a child her size. "There we go," she murmurs. "Just rest. Relax. Goodnight, Greer..."
Tara lets out a sigh of relief as Greer's eyes drop abruptly shut despite the girl's effort to keep them open. "Hard part's done," she jests feebly.
Clara exhales a soft sigh, nodding slowly, the smile dropping to make way to utter seriousness as she shifts around to stand behind Greer and start carefully parting and clipping her hair aside. "Pretty much. I know what I'm doing from here, but there's always room for error. If you need to leave at all, Tara, please don't hesitate. Or if you need a sedative at all, just ask."
Tara's eyebrows rise in amusement. "A sedative? Please note, I'm not in a good position from here to watch you actually slicing into my child'ss head. I think I'd faint if I saw that. I'm just... trying to stay out of the way, and not drop anything loudly at exactly the wrong moment."
Clara has to chuckle at that, running a sonic sterilizer over the child's entire head, shaking her own. "That's another reason I asked you to change into scrubs. They're extremely quiet. Still, I can talk and operate at the same time. If you stay right there, though, you're right. You won't see much."
Tara nods. Despite herself, she does lean this way and that to get a slightly better view. "You said the odds were good that this operation'll be successful?"
"The odds are excellent that she'll survive," Clara notes absently, mainly because she's lasering open the first incision. "The odds that she'll be normal? Somewhat less, but still well above 75%."
Tara nods slowly. "Betting odds. Which, I suppose, is sorta what we're doing here, eh?" She pauses for a moment before asking curiously, "Does he know about her?"
Clara leans over to let Giani settle a headset over her cap and lower the microscopic goggles over her eyes. She makes another few incisions before asking, "Who? Riley? Not...exactly. He knows I was concerned about a child patient, but that's all."
Tara chuckles quietly. "It's, uh, not exactly a big secret anymore. I mean, she's not. Not since she walked past the scanners in the port."
Clara continues lasering, as there's several layers to work through. Occassionally, she'll set a section of something vague aside, which is probably bone, but hopefully you're not close enough to see. Finally she switches the laser to a finer beam to start working through the duramatter, Giani wiping at her brow periodically. "Oh, I'm sure he knows she's here, but I rarely discuss my patients in more than general terms with him. I didn't know how much you'd want me telling him, either."
Tara shrugs slightly, letting out a chuckle. "If he's curious, I have no objections to his curiosity being satisfied. I'd, um, kinda like him to meet her. Prove I can produce something beautiful, I guess."
Clara doesn't pause in her work, considering what she's doing is separating the lobes of the brain and carefully cutting her way to the shrapnel. "Let's wait until this is over, hmm? I can't say I'd agree with that wish as she is, Tara. She's...brilliant, yes. But also distressing."
Tara mhmmms. "I'd have to agree with you on that one. That's one reason I'm praying... literally... that this works. I know it's not her fault the way she is, but..."
Clara falls utterly silent for a moment, then murmurs, "Cerebrel cortex confined. Shut down myelin sheath activity here, shunt the glia activity to the second lobe here. Good, excellent. Motor functions still on par, involuntary reactions still good. Making incision number eight, sectioning through the infilial layers and...oh." There's a long pause. "This isn't her fault, Tara. You were absolutely right."
Tara's eyebrows arch immediately. "'Oh'?"
Clara remains motionless for a long moment, then sighs and nods. "Oh. Oh, this is going to be damned harder than I thought it was. This thing's lodged in the celeristic cortex. No wonder she has no ability for compassion. She has no understanding of the world around her."
Tara grits her teeth, her fists clenching. But she forces her voice to stay soft and encouraging. "Just take your time, nice and easy..."
Clara nods absently, jaw clenching as perfectly steady hands resume work. She asks for several more instruments, then works in utter silence for perhaps a half hour, finally extracting the scrap of shrapnel with a heaved sigh. "Gotcha."
Tara works on a fine case of the jitters in the meantime, almost collapsing with relief at the 'gotcha'. "How do you -do- this without drinking yourself into oblivious every night afterwards?"
Clara lets the shrapnel clink into a pan proffered by Giani for this purpose, then finally does grin over at you, the expression evident in her eyes above the mask. "Because I might help someone. That's a bigger rush for me than any alcohol. Besides, if I drank that much, my hands would shake. Scanner," she adds to Giani, then starts scanning for any remaining shrapnel.
Tara grins ruefully, shaking her head. "Is she going to be okay then?" Okay, yes, she's getting a bit ahead of herself in her anxiety.
Clara pauses at seeing something on the scanner, then sets it to the side and switches on her laser again. "So far, so good. I can't make any guarantees yet, Tara. I just found more shrapnel," she explain, and start incising. AFter a few moments, she nods slowly and begins excising the found bit, it clunking into the pan as well. More scanning, then a deep sigh. "That's it. No more. We'll close up, then let her wake up slowly. Survival odds just shot up a lot."
Tara winces, biting her lip (not lap as originally typed- that'd be hard) as the operation continues. Finally she smiles in relief. "That's always a welcome statement."
Clara exhales another sigh, closing her eyes for a moment, lips moving briefly, then holds out her hand for a neural resonator and tester, carefully starting to seal incisions and test various centers of Greer's brain while doing so. This is likely where the bit pad is necessary, as the various muscle groups are being caused to twitch lightly. "It really is. Now we just have to wait until she wakes up to see if it worked."
Tara's eyebrows rise. "If? If is a very scary word, Clara..."
Clara continues testing and resonating, finally getting to a point where she can replace the bone and fuse that back into place. "I can't guarantee, Tara. That shrapnel was in there before her birth. The damage could be irreprable. I doubt she'll get worse, now, but...I -think- it will work."
Tara nods slowly, forcing a slight smile beneath her mask. "Well, I can honestly say that's more hope than anybody's ever been able to give us... me... before."
"I've done my best for her, Tara," Clara assures gently, if rather absently since she's doing the final resonance on the top layer of skin. Giani, in the meantime, is busily hooking the child up to nearly a dozen monitors. "I had a long, long talk with the Academy neurosurgeon today, and I'm following his advice. If she can be helped, this will have helped her."
Tara's eyebrows rise again, this time in some startlement. "You went that far out of your way? Clara, I'm impressed. And grateful," she adds hastily.
Clara sets aside the resonator, then holds her hands up at shoulder level, the gloves very definitely showing the signs of surgery, as well as her apron. She closes her eyes for a moment to take a deep breath, then smiles over at you. "Of course I did. I could never operate on child without all the precautions in the world. Or anyone for that matter."
Tara turns slightly green. Blood normally doesn't bother her, but when it's the blood of somebody she cares about... "I know," she nods firmly, looking a bit sheepish. "I just thought you knew it all already when it comes to this stuff."
Clara chuckles, holding her hands out to another nurse who strips the gloves off to go dispose of them. She tugs her mask down and begins unfastening Greer's hair. "If I knew everything about the human body, I'd be on Regulus, and probably a Colonel by now. Nope, I'm good, but not omnipotent. I don't mind asking advice whenever needed."
Tara pulls her own mask down with a chuckle. "Just as well. You don't want the headaches of a Colonel."
"Sure I do," Clara remarks with a laugh, sounding slightly tired as she goes about adjusting the drip, then the inhibitor to let the child wake on her own. "In about five to seven years. I'm likely up for Lt. Colonel in a year or two."
Tara chuckles. "Going for birds, eh? Good luck anyhow." She moves over to the bed to look down at the child, recognizing the inhibitor for what it is. "That thing's evil," she smiles.
"Mm, going for stars, actually. At least one," Clara notes, carefully untying her operating apron while watching Greer. "I know it is, but it's necessary for surgery. Even if the patient wakes up, it won't hurt."
Tara grins faintly. "General, eh? They'll stick you behind a desk until you're a little old groundpounder," she teases. "Ouch. That'd be enough to weird out..." She trails off as Greer's eyelids flutter open. The child's eyes try to focus on the figures above her.
"No desks," Clara assures, smiling vaguely as she hands the apron off to a nurse. "I'm too valuable in an operating theatre, and they know what happens when I'm stuck in research. Not pretty." Her attention is also snagged by the child. "Greer? Good morning, dear. Can you hear me?"
Greer nods slowly as she looks around. "Where...?" Tara comes around the other side of the bed, giving Clara an inquiring look as she reaches for her daughter's hand.
Clara takes the girl's other hand gently, lifting her other hand to brush a strand of her hair back. "Here in Medbay, dear," she notes with a warm smile. "The operation is all done. You shouldn't be hurting at all. Are you?"
Greer rolls her eyes upward, as if trying to see her own head. "No. Just... I can't think right. That's unusual." Tara's mouth quirks into a half-smile as she reaches out with her free hand to smooth the girl's hair, well away from the incision site. "It won't last long, Greer. Believe me, I know."
"You'll probably be thinking a little differently, now," Clara offers gently, still smiling even as she flickers a hopeful look at Tara. "Your mother is right. The disorientation won't last long. How do you feel?"
The girl thinks about that for a moment, frowning slightly as her thoughts don't want to get into line. No recess for them. "Numb. My head's all numb. Ice cream?"
Clara breaks into a very real grin and nods briefly at Giani. "Come on, let's get this kid into short term to rest, and then I'll go get the ice cream. Tara, you want some too?" she asks, already wheeling the operating table towards short term and a bed therein.
Tara looks up with a warm smile to nod. "Just a little bit. Gotta watch my figure," she jokes, walking beside the bed to keep hold of her daughter's hand. Greer... giggles.
Clara blinks at the reaction, then quells a sudden look of extreme hope and encouragement even as she helps to lift the child onto a real bed, complete with comfortable pillows and blankets. "Okay, let me go get that icecream. Chocolate all around!" Giani grins, but murmurs something about a date, and slips out as well.
Tara almost ends up being tugged along, so startled is she at the sound that she stops dead in her tracks for a second. "Ice cream," she whispers. "Ice cream does sound awfully good right now."
Greer does not seem to object to her location. "This is bigger than my bed in Tara's room," she notes, reaching to pull the covers up to her chin.
Clara finally returns with a tray containing three bowls of ice cream, naturally chocolate. She settles it on a bedside table, then deftly closes the privacy screening around the bed. "Here we are," she notes affably, reaching over to turn down Greer's inhibitor enough that she can feed herself. "Your's is the first bowl, dear. Here you go."
Greer sits up to reach wobblely for the bowl, wisely setting it on her lap to eat. "You always keep ice cream in your office?"
Clara chuckles, handing another bowl to Tara, then keeping one for herself. "Nope, not always. Just when I operate on very brave young girls whom I know enjoy chocolate."
Tara takes her bowl with a chuckle, stirring the contents into a thick mush.
Greer's eyes widen in curiosity. "How'd you know I like chocolate? I like it, a lot." She stares at Clara for a moment before nodding. "I'm /very/ brave. I climbed the highest tree in the forest, even. And I didn't run when the ducks came 'round us."
Clara's brows lift at the question in sleepy amusement as she finishes off a bite of her own ice cream. "By how you liked that chocolate bar I gave you in the tree house the other night," she explains affably. "And I believe you. It took a lot of bravery to agree to this operation. Why would you run from ducks though? WOuldn't they be good for experiments?" The crucial question, and Clara's tone is purposefully casual, completely relaxed.
Greer cocks her head, trying to remember... She doesn't seem to notice Tara holding her breath. "Oh yeah! You did gimme chocolate, didn't you? I'm sorry, I forgot. This thing," she gestures toward the inhibitor, "Makes me feel like scrambled eggs." Her eyebrows rise. "I -wouldn't- run from 'em. That's the point. They're cute. Experiments? What kinda experiments? Like what kind of bread they eat?"
Clara trades a glance with Tara, very firmly controlling her reaction and -not- breaking into sudden tears of relief. She merely continues to eat her ice cream, grinning slightly. "It's going to, for now, dear. It's keeping your head from hurting. We'll take it off tomorrow, though." She tilts her head slightly. "Experiments to find out what makes them hurt, of course."
Greer's eyes widen dramatically, and she drops her spoon, the implement thankfully landing in her bowl with a rattling sound. "Makes 'em hurt? Ducks can hurt?"
Tara ducks her head- it really wouldn't do for a tough pilot ex-smuggler ex-con like herself to let anybody see tears of joy appear in her eyes, now would it?
Clara settles her own spoon down with far less sound, still the eminently cool, comforting doctor. "They can indeed, dear. Any animal can hurt. Any person can hurt, any race. Does that matter to you, though?" Yes, tough questions, but important ones.
Greer nods slowly, her own eyes filling with tears. "Hurting /hurts/. Don't wanna make anybody hurt." She turns sorrowful eyes to her mother, then back to Clara, then to the bowl in her lap. "Made lotsa things hurt," she whispers.
Clara's eyes finally do close as she exhales a sudden sigh of relief. No, she doesn't jump up to immediately hug the girl as desperately as she'd like to, but leaves that for her mother. Instead, she reaches forward to attempt to rest a hand on her arm gently. "It's -not- your fault, Greer. Not your faults at -all-. And we're going to spend alot of time helping you understand that. But it was -not- your fault, darling."
Tara does indeed move over to sit on the edge of the bed, setting her own bowl aside, to hug her daughter. And she's openly crying too. Greer looks /so/ distressed. "I'm sorry, Tara..." "No, no, honey," the pilot draws back a little to show the girl she's smiling. "It's okay. I'm not upset at you or anything." She nods toward Clara. "What she said, hon. It'll... it'll be okay."
Clara nods, just as opening emotional now that the critical point is passed, tears streaming down her face above a truly joyous smile. "It's going to be just fine now, Greer. You're going to be fine. It's going to be a lot of hard work, though. Can you help me with all the hard work?"
Greer nods, as Tara shifts to sit beside her, facing Clara. "Not afraid of hard work," she says solemnly, starting to get interested in the ice cream again. "Gonna learn about /me/ now?"
Clara grins and finishes off her own ice cream rapidly and lets the night nurse take the bowl before she shakes her head. "Not tonight, dear. Tonight we're all going to sleep. I'll be right next door in that bed over there, so you just holler if you need me. Tara, what about you? Need a bed in here? That one's open," she adds, pointing to the one on the other side of the girl.
Tara blushes slightly as she grins and nods. "I don't like to impose, but..."
Tara also blinks. "Clara," she says firmly, "There's nurses here, and other doctors on duty. Go home." She softens the words with a smile.
Clara shakes her head lightly, climbing to her feet to rearrange the curtains to enclose the three beds ina tiny room of their own, then grins over at Tara lightly. "Riley knows where I am," she notes quietly. "I won't sleep if I'm not down here, Tara. And you're -more- than welcome to stay. She's your daughter."
Tara chuckles quietly, looking down at Greer as the girl finishes off the ice cream- no inhibitor will keep her from doing /that/- and reaches to take the bowl and drop it into her own. The girl smiles sleepily and curls up under the blankets- the inhibitor /can/ make her sleepy, and her eyelids sood drop shut, her breathing slowing slightly in that of a normal sleep. "Thank you, Clara," Tara says softly. "For everything."
Clara finally tugs her cap off, inclining her head and using the cap to wipe at her own tears shamelessly, smiling faintly. "That's what I'm here for," she murmurs in litany, then heads over to the other bed, barely able to kick off her shoes before crawling onto it an all but passing out.
Tara smiles slightly, very carefully easing herself off Greer's bed so as not to disturb the girl, and walks over quietly to pull a sheet up over the doctor. "You work too hard," she says softly with a trace of a chuckle, before kicking her own boots off and under her bed, and crawling in. Sleep doesn't take long to descend, as the day's events have been rather exhausting.
