02-12-2014, 05:27 PM
Torri entered the patient's room and was greeted by a whirlwind of information. Instinct drew her eyes around every piece of data displayed around them. It was like stepping into a Fun House filled with warped mirrors only she could see. Vital signs, infection status and flora ratios told her how his body was handling the trauma and surgery. Surprisingly well. Then again, he was a strong and healthy young man. Michael could probably take a hell of a licking and keep on ticking. There were other, more specific monitors though. Pumping rates told her how efficient fluid was still being drained from around his ribcage. The first bore that went to the lung was cleared, but the second driven through his side still needed monitoring. The bore site could leak or bleed, and they're a pain in the ass to replace, not just because it required a physician's delicate hand to get it right. As much as was displayed here, more was transmitted to the nurse's station out in center of the post-op hub. So she wasn't particularly perturbed when the nurse whose desk she commandeered interrupted her thoughts.
"Dr. Weston, he's awake,"
the man said and looked at her like he expected her to thank him.
"I can see that,"
she answered more sharply than she intended. Her nerves were raw. Maybe she was more shaken up by the attack than she'd let herself believe. She sighed. "Thank you."
She crossed to Michael's bedside, displacing the nurse and tech as she did.
Michael smiled a strangely awkward smile like he wasn't sure whether the expression intended to sneak out from behind his stoney exterior or not. The mind-warping effects of the anesthesia should have counteracted by now, but maybe she should check his chart just to make sure.
"It's good to see you, too."
She pat his hand and decided to check his chart. She went on to answer his next question without looking up. His medical tablet bedside had all his current records. "Its the middle of the night, so only six or seven hours."
Yep. He was given the antagonist. Maybe it was the near-death experience that warmed him up.
In light of his additional request, and Torri's own desire to speak privately, she nodded that they be left in private. When once the door sealed out any chance for eavesdroppers, she replaced the tablet and leaned over him to check the port. He was in a gown. "Roll away a little, I need to check this."
Effectively a few inches under his armpit, she studied the bandages and seals for signs of pus, blood or pleural fluid, "They won't tell anyone of your condition unless ordered by MC Command, and they won't order release of patient records without higher orders than anyone on base can give. Except maybe the colonel, or the Ascendancy I suppose."
Satisfied, she let the gown fall back and she stood upright where she remained, arms crossed, and eyes sharp.
Edited by Torri, Feb 12 2014, 05:28 PM.
"Dr. Weston, he's awake,"
the man said and looked at her like he expected her to thank him.
"I can see that,"
she answered more sharply than she intended. Her nerves were raw. Maybe she was more shaken up by the attack than she'd let herself believe. She sighed. "Thank you."
She crossed to Michael's bedside, displacing the nurse and tech as she did.
Michael smiled a strangely awkward smile like he wasn't sure whether the expression intended to sneak out from behind his stoney exterior or not. The mind-warping effects of the anesthesia should have counteracted by now, but maybe she should check his chart just to make sure.
"It's good to see you, too."
She pat his hand and decided to check his chart. She went on to answer his next question without looking up. His medical tablet bedside had all his current records. "Its the middle of the night, so only six or seven hours."
Yep. He was given the antagonist. Maybe it was the near-death experience that warmed him up.
In light of his additional request, and Torri's own desire to speak privately, she nodded that they be left in private. When once the door sealed out any chance for eavesdroppers, she replaced the tablet and leaned over him to check the port. He was in a gown. "Roll away a little, I need to check this."
Effectively a few inches under his armpit, she studied the bandages and seals for signs of pus, blood or pleural fluid, "They won't tell anyone of your condition unless ordered by MC Command, and they won't order release of patient records without higher orders than anyone on base can give. Except maybe the colonel, or the Ascendancy I suppose."
Satisfied, she let the gown fall back and she stood upright where she remained, arms crossed, and eyes sharp.
Edited by Torri, Feb 12 2014, 05:28 PM.