2237-09-14 - Patience And Patients

Just your typical day, when there are Wolves running the infirmary.

Date: 2237-09-14

Location: Argyros Naval Base Infirmary

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 513

Jump to End

For a wonder, the Infirmary is actually quiet. The bar brawls seem to have died down, no one is trying to rearrange some poor Caprican's face during a 'training exercise', and the staff has actually the time and freedom to do the many pieces of housekeeping that are necessary to keep the places running. Into the quiet, steady murmur of machinery, the low sound of televisions, and the occasional alert of a monitor, comes Tove's voice, "Are you kidding me? The Zofran is missing? Yeah, alright, let me get that printout of the pharmacy inventory and I'll start going through it one at a time."

Aidan steps into the infirmary to begin his shift. His face is classic 'surgeon in the clinic'. It's obvious he's annoyed at being here and having to worry about the menial sort of thing one deals with here. The first place he goes is the central nurse's station, to get an overview of who, if anyone, is present and what's going on with them.

Tove's not yet departed the station, waiting for the printout of the current inventory for the pharmacy. The movement catches her eye, and she turns her head. A curls of her lips, something that is equal parts sarcasm as genuine humour, as she catches sight of a familiar face, "Our ray of sunshine has arrived, girls." Well, given the mouths agape of some of the nurses as they look up, well, he's a little ray of something, "Captain Kinsinger. What can we do for you?"

"Lieutenant." The word is drawn out, gritted, grudging respect and finally ended with a biting stop. "I am here, fortunately for you, to conduct a rotation in your charming infirmary." Of all the people he was expecting to see, it's obvious she wasn't one of them. And it's even more obvious he's quitely seething about it.

Yes, it's that sort of thing. The angrier the doctor looks, the happier the nurse appears to be, "Actually, I am only a visitor here myself. With the VK-1 on TDY here, the medical staff has been assigned shift here to help pick up some of the workload and give us some experience on working off ship. We appear to have some missing inventory, and I'm about to start. Your help would be much appreciated. Unless you have a patient?"

"Oh. You're with VK-1 too." Aidan glowers. "Outstanding." One eyebrow raises then. "I am quite certain there is a patient here that requires my attention." Counting pills. The very idea of it. And then he actually looks at the chart. "I stand corrected. There is not."

And it's on duty for one Sarita Hargrave as well. In duty blues with her lab coat over. A week settled into routine on Argyros base as she is, she heads directly for the desk she occupies during her rotation, patting down her coat as she does so... only to find she's missing her pens. The woman lets out a sigh, drawing a hairband out from under her sleeve as she turns on booted heel to make her way sharply for the nursing station. She's working on twisting her hair up into a sloppy sort of bun on her approach, features in a tired, but neutral sort of expression as she begins the hunt for a pen she can abscond with.

Tove seems perfectly happy to wait, dressed, as is her preference, in comfy scrubs, even as she accepts the inventory list, for the tall Leonese man to check his empty schedule. "Hell of a change from Oran." That brief allusion to a shared, if temporarily on the doctor's part, duty station, before she moves on to more relevant topics. "As a matter of fact, yes. I only just got transferred in, so I'm completely useless, if you're looking for gossip or tidbits about the ship and how the sickbay works." And again, her eyes are drawn away, at second approach, "Captain." She's not yet met the woman.

"Why on earth do you think I would be looking for gossip? I'm not a nurse." Aidan snipes back at Tove, before looking over to the newcomer. Sairta is eyed measuringly, as if he's trying to guage her usefulness. Missing equipment. Still doing hair. Calculating....What he says, however is "Good day."

Jacob has been out on the range. It's clear as soon as he pushes the door of the infirmary open, still walking in full kit, save for his helmet and weapons. His hair is slightly askew, streaked with sweat from a day trapped within the hard confines of a helmet. Magazines, loaded or empty, still line the pockets and pouches attached to his plate carrier. And, in fact, black gloves still seem content to cover his hands. "Gentlemen? I don't believe I have until tomorrow." His voice is not soft or comforting in any way. In fact, he opens the door only to stand next to it, looking back down the hallway with a gruffly impatient air.

Behind Jacob, scramble two people in what appears to be half their off duty uniforms and half of their off duties. Fatigue pants, stained with dirt and mud cover their bottom halves. Their top halves seem to be missing their blouses and undershirts, exchanged, instead, for simple CF double tanks. It was an absolutely non-standard uniform. And judging by the ashamed look on the soldier's faces? Their NCO wouldn't let them forget it. Both men wander into the bay looking rather embarrassed, bottles of water clutched in both hands and a similar pattern of hair and dirt stain as Jacob. Clearly, the heat of the range had not been kind.

"Two heat cats. On scene medics want them cleared."

There's no look of shame in Sarita's mien as she reaches past the edge of the desk to snatch a pen from a cup on the other side. She goes past the edges of the be-ribboned cup and the pens with large flowers on the edges to grab a basic blue clicky pen from within. It's twirled between her fingers and tucked into the breast pocket of her coat before she even looks up and across Tove and Aidan both. There's a slight press of her lips before she tilts her head in a slight nod that encompasses both of them. "Hello." That Virgan-touched accent of her Canceronian is present even in the single word. "I see we're in for yet another day of reviewing paperwork." A slight twitch takes the corner of her lips before Jacob bursts through the doors. She turns, arching a brow as her gaze slides to the two men with him. She leans back on her heels, hands dropping to the pockets of her coat. All she does is tilt her head towards the nearest (and most prominent) tables.

"Actually, it was going to be an inventory of missing medication. In lieu of...patients." And that's where Tove stops. Any more digs at the surgeon, and any requests that might be placed on her by the female doctor will have to wait, as the door opens, and a peck of marines either walk or stumble in. She does not, for her part, just wait for the marines to seat themselves, instead moving over, after a quick assessment, to the marine who seems to be in the worst straights, and directs him to the nearest bed, helping him in, if she has to, before she'll see about managing the second. The Staff Sergeant gets only a glance. Nope, he's not patient number three.

Aidan brightens a little when patients suddenly appear. Only a little, though, since it is better than counting pills. He begins striding toward the beds that Sarita has indicated, all business-like. "Lieutenant, please begin charts. We'll also need core temperatures for both patients." Ah yes, the dreaded silver bullet all marines fear.

Jacob is more than content to stand aside, lean against the wall, and hook his hands in the neck of his vest. He pulls down on it slightly, allowing his arms to hang there. "Both went down during an ammo shake down. Had them in formation for about fifteen minutes after range day. Apparently, drinking water is something we're going to have to make an instructional brief on." His bright blue eyes look over Tove, then flash over to Sarita and Aidan. The Hibernian man is big. Prize fighter big, and that piercing gaze only serves to highlight the thin lines of scars marring his right cheek. When the doctors and the nurse seem to have earned enough study, the Sergeant looks to his two marines. "Sit."

The men, for their part, seem to sullenly follow Tove to the bed area. One settles in each bed, automatically unscrewing the caps of one water bottle each as soon as the gaze of the NCO falls upon them. The water rises to their lips, they drink a short sip, and it comes down again. Thankfully? Neither of them seems to hear Aidan's request for core temperatures. The one Tove is working on seems to study her a bit, though. "I'm afraid of needles." He professes. "If you have to stick me, please get it in one..."

Nora trails the marines by a minute or two, hanging back in the doorway to allow them to get divied up between doctors and settled before she limps in. She's noticeably favoring her right leg, though not so much that she's hopping her way into the room. Like the marines she's not in standard uniform, tanks and running shorts suggesting the likely cause of her injury. She stops near Jacob where he's standing along the wall and nods toward his fellows getting seen to. "Are they alright?"

"The case of the missing medication? Thrilling." The deadpan in Sarita's voice easily gives away her true feelings on that concept. However, the patients draw forth little additional interest from the woman. She steps aside to grab a pair of gloves, yes, but as she approaches the one who speaks of his fear of needles, there's just a tut voiced from the Captain. "Are you doubting the staff, soldier?" There's a hand to his chin, then, fingers firm as she angles the marine's head so she can get a good look at his features. Likely gauging just how bad he's been affected by the heat and dehydration while Tove gets what she needs together.

The marine receives a gentle smile, for his confession, as Tove sets him up on the bed, allowing him to drink and lean back, as she goes to the cabinet to pull out a change of clothes for him, for some value of 'clothes'. It is an infirmary, "Needles are one of my specialties. I promise you won't feel a thing." She leaves Sarita to begin her exam, having chosen to completely overlook any of the commentary she might have heard regarding the seeming lack of interest in preventing theft. Instead, she moves to see to the second man as well, also settling him into place on his own bed. And the redhead limping in neatly divides her attention three ways. "I'll be right with you."

"Once the nurse gets their core temperatures, we'll have a better idea." Aidan asides to the other Captain, apparently willing to at least put forth the appearance of collaboration. "But I suspect we're going to want an IV for both of them for rehydration and nothing more. They're drinking, and at least one of them is speaking quite clearly. Minor at best, I imagine." He has a delightful gift for sounding like this may be a waste of time. And of course, the part about the IV is in full hearing of the marine who is terrified of needles.

The young man afraid of needles pales a bit under Sarita's touch, his eyes drifting from her, to Aidan in a mixture of fear and irritation. He doesn't voice anything, though, he simply sits. His skin is slightly pale, dry, and reactive. There's no evidence of recent sweating or exertion from either man. There doesn't appear to be any retraction along their eyelids or gum lines. In all, it looks to be a very mild case of dehydration in both cases. "I can just drink water... There's really no need to trouble any of you." The words drift from the same man, his eyes flashing back to the gaze of Sarita. The other man? Simply drinks, leans back, and looks rather tired.

Jacob nods at Nora, his hands falling long enough to remove a silver toothpick holder from his pocket. He shakes one out into his palm and tucks it into his mouth, holding it gently between back molars. It's a practiced and comfortable motion, even as he returns his hands to the collar of his vest. "They're probably fine." Jacob offers Nora, his bright eyes settling on the two marines. "People fall out of formations all the time. It was just a damned long day."

Tove tips her chin, calling over one of the other nurses on duty to take charge of Nora and help the woman to a third bed, "Claire will get you settled, and we'll see about that injury", is offered to Nora as she carries back the second change of clothes, and settles them on the rolling table, "I'm just going to take your temperature. So give me a moment." Rather than use the mouth thermometer, Tove reaches for the in the ear style, making swift work of first the one sitting by himself, and then the one still looking mildly terrified at Sarita. The blank charts do tend to come in handy at times like this.

"I think," Sarita drones, after a moment of examination of the first man, "that we may be able to do without the IV." She steps over to the second. Apparently, Aidan may get the joy of dealing with Nora. A more interesting case, perhaps. She leans in to marine numero dos, giving him the same treatment of taking him by the jaw to study the reaction of his pupils first before checking his glands and the like. "Would be a waste of supplies and the Lieutenant's time. I think a change of clothes and time spent rehydrating should do the trick for these two." She steps back, looking between them. "And a prayer to their gods that they don't set off a safety briefing for their entire unit."

"I'm not sure it's even a sprain," Nora explains, to Claire the helpful nurse and Tove over her shoulder, "I'd just like to be certain since it's been injured before." She sits on the corner of the bed, legs dangling, and turns back to Jacob to add: "I'm glad to hear it's nothing serious. Were you all training with the Capricans again?"

Aidan seems to decide, as he watches Tove take temperatures and listens to Sarita, to move on to Nora. He will indeed take the more interesting case. More importantly, he'll take working wih Claire over Tove. Poor, poor Claire. He stalks over that way, and announces his entry to the case with a brusque "What's wrong with you, then?"

Jacob nods at Nora, raising an eyebrow at the approach of the nurse and pursing doctor. Though he studies them with interest, the staff sergeant can't really be bothered to move. He just allows that toothpick to twitch a bit in his mouth. "Live fire exercises. It was a real shoot, move, communicate type day." The doctor behind the nurse gets a good bit of the marines attention, his head tilting to the side a bit as he quietly contemplates something. "How'd you break yourself?" Clearly, though his attention is on Aidan, the question is aimed at Nora. Strangely? It mirror's the doctor's inquiry perfectly.

The other man looks much like the first that Sarita had inspected. He doesn't fight her hand as much, though, choosing to allow his chin to be manhandled in whatever way the doctor wished. His skin, too, was pale, warm, and dry. He had salt stained clothing, but no present sweat. "So. To be clear? No needles?"

Tove never leaves any contingency unchecked, and whether the doctor eventually decides on fluids or not, she goes about the business of heading to the station, after reporting their temperatures, and begins to prep the full kit. Catheters, including one of the butterfly ones that go on the back of the hand, just in case, and the fluids that go along with it. Claire gets a significant glance(tm) in passing as the two nurses move to their respective corners of the ring.

"No needles," Sarita declares, stepping back from the second marine. She gestures to both, then to the change of 'clothes' Tove has brought. "Change. Drink your water. All of it. You'll be brought more. Take it slow. Lie back while you do." She steps away then, herself, pulling off the gloves. Does she close the curtain in the bed area so they can change in relative privacy? No, no she does not. Either she's forgotten, left it to Tove, or it's a subtle punishment for their predicament. Instead, she tosses the gloves in a waiting bin so she can take the charts from Lind and start jotting things down. "No need for an IV," she notes to the Lieutenant in a quiet voice. "They were brought in early enough. Just get them a couple liters more water and make sure they get through it all, please."

"Doctor Kinsinger has already ordered IV fluids, Captain." Tove takes a few moments to complete her work, before she wheels the cart carrying the IV supplies over to the first man. The one who was afraid of needles. "We're going to get you changed, and then we'll see about getting some fluids into you, alright? Let me adjust your bed, so you can sit up, alright?" She does offer that same warm smile, as she moves to pull the curtains to both beds, so that she can give the two men their privacy, and block them from the view of the rest of the infirmary.

Nora's brows rise at Aidan's opener before she replies: "Twisted ankle. I just want to be sure it's not sprained. The ligaments've been damaged before so I try to be careful when I can." Over the doctor's shoulder she casts a look towards Jacob, and one brow arches upwards more sharply in silent question. "Loose paving stone," she answers him, "I was out for a run and the curb just gave way beneath me. I'm certainly glad there wasn't any live fire involved."

"I see." Aidan seems about to write it off, when she says twisted ankle. Then she mentions prior damage. "Can you tell me more about the prior damage to the ligaments? Was surgery involved?" He's putting on gloves, so apparently he may actually work on this one. The discussion of IVs draws his attention for a moment, but he doesn't say anything. The nurse seems to have it well in hand.

"Uh-huh. Well. Captain Kinsinger has himself three patients, then, doesn't he? You should have told me I was wasting my time, Lieutenant." Sarita stops the marks she's making on the chart, sets it down, and tucks her pen away. "I had paperwork I needed to see to anyway." There isn't a look back, either, to the grouping of marines nor Nora before the woman just drops her hands to her pockets and starts her way back towards her desk, humming quietly to herself as she goes.

"Why? Life without live fire sounds boring as unflavored mouthwash." Nora doesn't really earn any reaction from Jacob's gaze. It does leave the doctor after a moment, though, looking back at the IV confusion happening with his own marines. This, at least, causes him to rise from the wall and come to stand a bit closer to the beds, looking down at the young men with an arched eyebrow. "Sounds like there will be needles." He says in a firm voice. "Willard? Do you want me to come hold your hand? Or would you rather have the nurse do it? Because I promise you, if you act like an asshole with that needle, I'm going to have you doing laundry with a washboard and a basin. Nice. Light. Duty." He glances up at the female doctor, studying her features for a short moment before nodding at Tove.

Marx had to be telepathic. Because Willard, the first marine, had actually opened his mouth and raised a finger as Tove wheeled the cart in his direction. The drawl of a Hibernian accent coming from a towering figure who had to turn sideways to fit through doors? Well. Effective is an understatement. The young man simply swallows, and looks over at his mate before extending his arm in that grave, slow fashion that made him look like a man condemned.

The nurse's eyes look away from her patient, glancing briefly to Aidan, before she returns to her duties. Tove lifts her eyes, as Jacob walks over, allowing the man room to address his marines, as she settles in, taking Willard's hand, extending his arm. Nice when you can use their momentum to do the work for you. "Just focus on Marx here? And you won't even know when it's done." She takes a moment, prepping the interior of the man's elbow, before she applies the tourniquet, and taps his skin to select a vein. True to her word, having found a good vein, there's barely a pinch and within a few seconds, the catheter is secured, and the IV is being attached." She'll keep him seated, not yet changed, as she moves to the second man, to repeat the process. A quick step around is required to avoid Jacob, but she's just fun-sized enough that she doesn't need much clearance. The second man, more listless than the first, does not put up a fight. All to the good, right?

"Call me boring if you like, but I've no real desire to be shot again," Nora replies to Jacob, one corner of her mouth quirking faintly with humor. Her own accent is Virgan as well, but the soft, broad vowels of the northern mining regions. "Certainly not for tripping during a training exercise." The plight of the heat-stroked marines and their potential IVs holds her attention only for a moment, though she continues to watch them as she answers Aidan. "It was badly sprained about a year ago, ligament damage on both sides. No surgery. There wasn't much to be done for it but pressure and ice at the time, and it was too late afterwards. It's fine now, just healed tight and rather...clicky."

Aidan pays no attention to the interplay between Tove and Sarita. It's impossible to tell if he even knows that he has, indeed, three patients. Right now he's focusing on Nora and her ligaments. "Tight and 'rather...clicky'." He sounds unamused. "That hardly equates to fine. A normal ligament is not tight nor 'rather clicky'." A pause. "Damage on both sides. Pressure and ice. You needed physical therapy to ensure the ligament was properly strengthened and returned to full function post sprain, from the sound of it." He reaches for said ankle, then pauses as he remembers himself. "I'm going to examine you now, with my hands. Alright?"

At her desk, Sarita has settled in... to a fight with a drawer. The 'battle' that the Capricans have had with the invading Timber Wolves has extended to some of the medical staff as well, though it has not been so fierce as it was in the Mushroom the other night. No, it's much more passive aggressive in the infirmary. In the Canceron surgeon's case, it came in the form of assigning her a desk that was meant for the trash heap. The drawers don't sit right and the whole thing sits rather lopsided, overall. It takes three tries before the drawer opens and once it does, it slides free much too far and comes almost completely out of the whole. She swears, colorfully, in Leonese- though most of it is kept under her breath. Papers have scattered about her like a low-budget snowstorm. The woman lets out a frustrated sigh as she begins collecting them up one-by-one to begin setting right and in order.

It's the toothpick flick that gets the CF marines in line. Under the power of Jacob's glare, he switches the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. To make life more awkward for the nervous young Willard, the staff sergeant settles down on the edge of his bed, glancing down at him in an idle and disinterested manner. He does offer him a dark little grin, though, only curling one corner of his lips. "Stay calm, kid. You're not my type." His eyes shift up? Or maybe down to Tove. He looks as though he's about to say something. Then? Sarita's desk vomits papers everywhere. And the big marine has to watch her clean the mess up with no small amount of interest. "Hm. This is one of the more interesting infirmaries I've visited. Elltee?" Eyes back to Lind. "Do you think you could spare some 4x4s? I think I may need to do a bandage changeout. Cause? Yeah. Gunshot wounds suck."

Both young men, now that IVs are established, lay back in their beds. They don't seem too excited to move or talk. Well, until Jacob settles onto Willard's bed, causing him to reactively scoot away.

Tove has had enough practice with the routines, that it doesn't take her overly long to get the work done. The right amount of coaxing, the right amount of verbal and medical slight of hand and both marines soon have their IVs in place. On the scale of 'see to their medical needs' and 'make them less mud-covered' the nurse seems to opt for IV first, new clothes after, and so, their changes of clothe remain nearly folded. It's not but a few minutes before she's pulling off the gloves and tossing them into the disposal. In time to catch Jacob's shift, and his request, "I think I can spare a few. You good there, or would you like your own bed?"

Aidan's attention is caught briefly by the paperstorm, and the subsequent Leonese swearing. But only briefly. He has, after all, a problem that might require more attention that he initially thought. A physical examination is undertaken, moving the affected area, seeing how it responds and how the patient reacts.

Is a mess of paperwork truly that interesting? Surely interns have tripped, fallen, and scattered worse before. Sarita is oblivious to the looks she's received; too busy in retrieving that which has gone awry. She manages to collect most of it before it drifts to the floor. That which does land, she rises from the chair and kneels to collect up. There's more muttering under her breath, but she finally manages to retrieve it all and ultimately sets to work collecting everything before bending over the whole stack to begin sorting it all.

"Solid here. Willard's... squirrelly." Jacob looks down at the kid, an eyebrow arched even as his hand reaches down to absently shift his armor. He was, judging by the patches and load out, a recon marine. And the well worn body armor melts into him like a second skin. One... the marine just shifted... "I think I just need supplies. I can change it out after tuck these two in and hit the showers." He looks back up, watching 'Paperstorm TV' with mild interest. Yes. Staff Sergeants had to tuck in their marines like proud Papas. It was a thing.

"He'll be alright by and by, Sergeant. But it's good of you to stay with them." Especially given that the Hibernian looks as far from a man of friendship and fellow feeling as one can get. "I'll put together a kit for you, then." With the two men in Jacob's tender care, Tove moves to the work station, putting together a small travel kit, as it were. bandages, adhesives, a few occlusive dressings for showers, prep pads, and a small selection of temporary butterfly bandages. Either she's being overly cautious, or she's familiar with the Staff Sergeant's wound. All wrapped up in a zip top bag, before she hands it off.

"This should have been properly treated the first time around." Aidan grumbles, now making notes on the patient's chart. "As it is now, this may just be something that is going to happen from time to time." Which is not an answer he's happy with. "But we shall see. It may still be rehabilitable."

Since it's down to just sorting paperwork back in proper order, Sarita is back to humming. Less grousing and muttering, more... humming an old Leonese tune. Almost a nursery rhyme or lullaby, perhaps. More folk tune, maybe. Still something a mother might sing to their child, by the melody of it. It's slow, almost relaxing. Not loud, but sonorous enough to carry in the quiet moments of the infirmary. As she gets the papers sorted, they're set off to the side and more shifted through.

Jacob takes the bag with a nod, tucking it into the collar of his vest between his body and the armored material. Tove's words cause him to look down at the men in the beds. He hadn't considered that he was 'looking after them'. And dull realization seems to scroll across his face all at once. "Good of me to-Huh? No, I'm making sure they don't trip and die. That's all. And my duty ends at...Well. In about a half hour." He glances up at the clock, tilting his head a little.

"Well, I suppose that would be a hell of thing to have to explain at the end of the day. 'What happened to your Marines, Marx? Tripped and died, Gunny.'" There's an easy humour in her voice, as though the nurse had more than a passing familiarity with the big Marine. "So once the thirty minutes is up, if they trip, don't call you?" With her package handed over, Tove returns to checking in on the patients. She's been running the fluids full bore and the bags will be drained soon enough.

"Old home week in the infirmary?" It's a rhetorical question from Aidan, but given his Leonese accent it makes sense in the context of the old tune Sarita is currently humming that occasionally carries his way. Gloves are discarded. "I think the good news is, this will be fine. But it is going to happen again, and again, unless we correct it."

"That still wouldn't be the dumbest thing I've had to bring to the attention of the Gunny, elltee." Marx replies, shifting on Willard's bed. His eyes close for a moment, a hand rising to remove that toothpick from his mouth. "We still on for tonight?"

It may be old home week! Sarita's just tuning out everything else as she works. There's no walls, no doors, and no headphones to do so, thus she must find other means. Perhaps she's decided, based on her coworkers for the day, that the Leonese tune would be preferable to a Canceronian song. Thus, it continues as she goes through her paperwork.

"Knowing marines as I do? That does not surprise me, Sergeant." She gives her patients a once over, as they both seem to be doing as well as can be expected, "I'm going to leave you to it. I should be back in about thirty to change out their IVs." She's just about to step out of the small curtained area, when she catches Jacob's question, turning to glance back in his direction, "We are." A quick smile, not the impersonal sort Aidan would get, or the warm, compassionate sort she gives her patients, but something solely for the marine. And then she's off to continue the search for the missing medication. Not thrilling, but necessary.


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