Home » The Archives » Chapter 8 » Home is Where the Heart Is
| Re: Home is Where the Heart Is [message #2154 is a reply to message #2153] |
Sun, 29 July 2012 19:10   |
Lillehafrue
Messages: 478
Registered: July 2012
Location: Northeastern USA
Karma:
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TB Pilot
Evil Genius |
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From: Tikatu Sent: 9/27/2006 2:20 PM
The patient was already on the scanner bed when Nikki came in. She thought momentarily about mentioning lifting safety to Dianne, then thought better of it. Instead, she took a pair of scissors from the nearby counter top and picked up cutting off Michael's clothes where Dianne had left off.
"The head injury is the most troubling thing here," Dianne said, glancing up at the overhead scanner display and murmuring her notes into the recorder. "Outer laceration needs a little more cleaning out there; get the grit out then we can glue it shut. But Da... Tynan?" Dianne didn't have to touch her earpiece; she just turned her head a little. Still, the mask muffled her voice somewhat in Dom's ear.
"Yes, Doc?" The nurse stopped for a moment to answer the call.
"You said this first patient regained consciousness for a few moments?"
"That's what was reported."
"How long was he out for in total?"
Dom looked at Lynne. "How long was... Michael? Is that his name?" When Lynne nodded, he continued, "How long was he out for in total?"
Lynne's face looked bleak. "Three and a half to four hours. If he was conscious any other time, no one noticed or reported it."
Dom nodded briskly. "Three and a half to four hours is the best estimate, Doc."
"How long ago did he regain consciousness?"
Again, Dom turned to Lynne and repeated the question. "A half hour at most, and he seemed to understand what was going on."
"Damn," Dianne muttered. She raised her voice. "F-A-B, Tynan, and thanks."
"A half hour. That's still too long." She slowed the scanner down as it transversed the head. "I'm just not seeing... there's no skull fracture... I don't see anything other than the head injury." She shook her head. "Let's see what else he's got and I'll come back to the head."
As the scanner moved slowly down the length of the table and the patient, Dianne tsked. "The left shoulder's just bruised; no fractures and doesn't look dislocated but he's going to hurt for a while."
Nikki finished pulling off Michael's clothes, and covered him with a paper sheet, then went to prepare a shaver, a bowl of cleanser and some sterile pads to clean the head wound. The scanner moved down farther, and Dianne took a deep breath and blew it out her nose.
"Double fracture with displacement in the left tibia, around halfway down its length. A clean fracture and slight dislocation in the left fibula. Double fracture will need some shoring up, but I'm not sure if I should do the surgery now, or wait and let the local medicos handle it. It's not precisely life threatening." As the scanner reached the feet, Dianne peered at the screen, then used a remote to zoom in on the bones of the foot. "Hairline fractures of the third and fourth metatarsals in the left foot, angling upwards from near the middle of the bone toward the heads, and of the fifth proximal phalanx near the base." She smiled ruefully. "He'll be wearing a cast from knee to toe for a few weeks."
Nikki returned the smile sympathetically. She finished removing the hair around the head wound, and Dianne started reprogramming the scanner for another look at the brain. Nikki soaked a couple of sterile pads with the antibacterial cleanser then, as she began to gently dab the stuff on, cleaning away blood and grit, the patient drew in a sharp, hissing breath. Dianne's eyebrows rose, and she pulled a penlight from the counter and opened one of Michael's eyes, flicking the light across the pupil. She repeated the process with the other eye, and watched Michael's face screw up with an attempt to close the eyelid. He raised a hand, which Nikki quickly caught, lowering it to the bed and holding it there firmly.
"What's your name?" Dianne asked.
"M-Michael Hart."
"Do you know where you are?"
"Hospital. 'Mergency room."
"Not quite, but close enough." She held up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
His eyes opened just a slit. "Th-three."
"How long have you been awake?" Dianne asked in a matter-of-fact tone, as she peered at the scanner again.
"Uhhh. Jus' a little while. I 'member you talkin' about m' foot," he rasped.
"And before that?"
"Don' know. Mos' of th' time, I think. Was easier t' keep still. Didn' hurt so much."
"I see. Did you ever think of telling anyone you were awake?"
He started to shake his head a little, but Dianne reached out for his chin and held his head still. "Just talk. Keep your head still for me."
He sighed. "No. Wassa bit confused when th' dust settled. Thought people knew. Then they took somethin' off m' leg an' I passed out."
"Well, Mr. Hart, it looks like you are a very, very lucky man. I don't see any sign of major head trauma, though I'll let the medicos at the hospital take a much longer look at you. But as for now, we'll splint your leg up, give you something for the pain, and let the locals deal with the breaks. We've got more patients coming and you don't seem to be in any immediate danger."
"Mean I'm no' at th' hospital?" he asked, squinting up at her.
"No, Mr. Hart." She pulled out a hypospray, and filled it with an ampule of general analgesic, then administered it by pressing it against his neck. Over the hiss he could hear her say, "You're in a Thunderbird."
98% pure evil...and loving every minute of it.
 
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