02-06-2014, 05:59 PM
The first words out of his mouth and he was already politicking. Torri should have known he'd be the first to ignore doctor's orders. She didn't chastise him, though. There was no point. If it hurt too much to talk, he'd shut up.
She was tethered to him, as it were. She'd used a jacket to make an improvised bandage, and held it against him beneath both palms. So she was tethered to him, as it were, unwilling to drop it in lieu of some other pursuit. A blinking dot told EMS's estimated time of arrival, so there was nothing to do but sit tight.
They were so close, yet time slowed to a crawl despite the beat of her heart. She was inevitably drawn into his words.. and the cold, distant way he unfurled orders. A chill crept over her, that although he was the one with life-threatening injuries, she felt like she were the one in real danger.
"Alright, Michael. I won't say anything."
He pulled the promise out of her by the force of his gaze alone. She swallowed a shudder that outstripped almost every experience she'd ever known as a physician. A similar image of the Ascendancy's deathly gaze suddenly exploded in her mind, and she realized quite soberly how much Michael resembled the man. The eyes, she was transfixed upon them even now, a frozen blue that begged disobedience.
She'd barely noticed EMS' arrival behind her. Michael's grimacing broke into a chill-smile, and he suddenly slumped as though all his strength were gone. EMS surrounded them, and Torri snapped out of the near trance-like fog that'd broken her faculty. A second team appeared on their heels to investigate and clear the smoke.
EMS already knew his condition, but pro-coag foam was standard in any emergency kit. "He needs stabilized."
When she held out her hand, it was filled with a cold, pressurized can. It had a long nozzle on the end.
"Brace yourself, Michael."
It was the last words of warning she'd give him before they started ignoring him altogether. She stuffed the nozzle down into the first puncture wound. Tissue and blood squeezed out around it, but almost instantly, the wound filled with a blue-green foam that would seal off the internal trauma. Not only was it filled with super-catalytic clotting factors, but also with numbing agents. It wouldn't take away the pain, but it would lessen it a degree. They'd have to flush it off the lung sac in surgery, but at least plugging the hole should let the lung's remaining lobes fill all the easier.
She nodded, and EMS gave her a second can. This time with a thinner nozzle. She snaked it under his shoulder, and filled the second wound as she had the first. She checked to see if he was still awake briefly, then moved out of the way for the team to go through their casualty procedures in order to get him on a stretcher. "Let's get him out of here."
The men took great care to transfer him from the seat to the stretcher without causing further injury.
Torri smeared her hands on her coat and stomped away petty thoughts about finding a dry cleaners in the desert. EMS had placed a brain-wave monitor across his forehead - affectionately called the tiara for the sparkly lights criss-crossing the fiberoptics embedded in the wires - then gave Michael a pre-surg sedative and he was out before they even wheeled him from the room. Torri meanwhile kept a close eye on his vitals, all steady, but was otherwise busy transmitting the updated situation to Pre-Op, so the suite could be made ready for his arrival. Her fellow surgeon - the one that dumped Legion Premiere's paperwork in her lap - was already scrubbing in.
Pre-op asked for a cause of injury. Torri thought for a moment and cursed herself for making promises in a moment of weakness. Emotional shit like that got people killed. "Puncture wounds. Weapon unknown."
Her reply would have to do. She could always fill in more details later. Honestly, picturing the ghost.. monster.. mist-thing, she didn't know if she could provide a better answer if she wanted.
Michael was allowed to wake up hours later in post-op, well into his recovery. The Coag Foam had been flushed from his system. A freshly patched bore between the second and third ribs was the sign that the air between his lung and chest cavity had been removed. An additional tube dangled nearby, functioning to drain blood and other fluid from the pleural space. The progress was good so far, and Torri didn't expect there to be a need for additional surgical repair. Biodegradable stints treated with VEGF and other stem cell factors created a nice wire mesh along the trauma sites, thankfully embedded far beneath the incisions, but did a fair job at reconnecting ripped muscle, working nerves, and blood vessels.
She'd been up to her bloody neck in MP's. Even a phone call from the Colonel! (or his staff, at least). So she retreated at an off-site desk station in the corner of Post-op to hide. Hell, she would have taken another surgery if it thought a full scrub-in would delay the procrastination. For now, it'd been a good hour since anyone had bothered her with more questions, but she told them the same thing every time. "My first priority is to my patient." She'd taken the desk over from a nurse that glared when she mentioned how many puzzle games he'd uploaded. Well she could out-glare him any minute of the day, but right then it barely took a glance to get him to turn tail and scamper off. She'd changed into scrubs before stepping in to assist in the surgery. Her uniform and coat had been taken away to god knows where. A scrub hat was still tied around her forehead. It had kittens on it. Well, it was a gift from her mom. Everyone should have a lucky scrub-hat.
Eventually, a change in vitals signal roused her attention. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes dulled by the long night and adrenaline crash, just in time to witness a nurse and a tech disappear into Michael's room.
She shoved herself to her feet and followed.
She was tethered to him, as it were. She'd used a jacket to make an improvised bandage, and held it against him beneath both palms. So she was tethered to him, as it were, unwilling to drop it in lieu of some other pursuit. A blinking dot told EMS's estimated time of arrival, so there was nothing to do but sit tight.
They were so close, yet time slowed to a crawl despite the beat of her heart. She was inevitably drawn into his words.. and the cold, distant way he unfurled orders. A chill crept over her, that although he was the one with life-threatening injuries, she felt like she were the one in real danger.
"Alright, Michael. I won't say anything."
He pulled the promise out of her by the force of his gaze alone. She swallowed a shudder that outstripped almost every experience she'd ever known as a physician. A similar image of the Ascendancy's deathly gaze suddenly exploded in her mind, and she realized quite soberly how much Michael resembled the man. The eyes, she was transfixed upon them even now, a frozen blue that begged disobedience.
She'd barely noticed EMS' arrival behind her. Michael's grimacing broke into a chill-smile, and he suddenly slumped as though all his strength were gone. EMS surrounded them, and Torri snapped out of the near trance-like fog that'd broken her faculty. A second team appeared on their heels to investigate and clear the smoke.
EMS already knew his condition, but pro-coag foam was standard in any emergency kit. "He needs stabilized."
When she held out her hand, it was filled with a cold, pressurized can. It had a long nozzle on the end.
"Brace yourself, Michael."
It was the last words of warning she'd give him before they started ignoring him altogether. She stuffed the nozzle down into the first puncture wound. Tissue and blood squeezed out around it, but almost instantly, the wound filled with a blue-green foam that would seal off the internal trauma. Not only was it filled with super-catalytic clotting factors, but also with numbing agents. It wouldn't take away the pain, but it would lessen it a degree. They'd have to flush it off the lung sac in surgery, but at least plugging the hole should let the lung's remaining lobes fill all the easier.
She nodded, and EMS gave her a second can. This time with a thinner nozzle. She snaked it under his shoulder, and filled the second wound as she had the first. She checked to see if he was still awake briefly, then moved out of the way for the team to go through their casualty procedures in order to get him on a stretcher. "Let's get him out of here."
The men took great care to transfer him from the seat to the stretcher without causing further injury.
Torri smeared her hands on her coat and stomped away petty thoughts about finding a dry cleaners in the desert. EMS had placed a brain-wave monitor across his forehead - affectionately called the tiara for the sparkly lights criss-crossing the fiberoptics embedded in the wires - then gave Michael a pre-surg sedative and he was out before they even wheeled him from the room. Torri meanwhile kept a close eye on his vitals, all steady, but was otherwise busy transmitting the updated situation to Pre-Op, so the suite could be made ready for his arrival. Her fellow surgeon - the one that dumped Legion Premiere's paperwork in her lap - was already scrubbing in.
Pre-op asked for a cause of injury. Torri thought for a moment and cursed herself for making promises in a moment of weakness. Emotional shit like that got people killed. "Puncture wounds. Weapon unknown."
Her reply would have to do. She could always fill in more details later. Honestly, picturing the ghost.. monster.. mist-thing, she didn't know if she could provide a better answer if she wanted.
Michael was allowed to wake up hours later in post-op, well into his recovery. The Coag Foam had been flushed from his system. A freshly patched bore between the second and third ribs was the sign that the air between his lung and chest cavity had been removed. An additional tube dangled nearby, functioning to drain blood and other fluid from the pleural space. The progress was good so far, and Torri didn't expect there to be a need for additional surgical repair. Biodegradable stints treated with VEGF and other stem cell factors created a nice wire mesh along the trauma sites, thankfully embedded far beneath the incisions, but did a fair job at reconnecting ripped muscle, working nerves, and blood vessels.
She'd been up to her bloody neck in MP's. Even a phone call from the Colonel! (or his staff, at least). So she retreated at an off-site desk station in the corner of Post-op to hide. Hell, she would have taken another surgery if it thought a full scrub-in would delay the procrastination. For now, it'd been a good hour since anyone had bothered her with more questions, but she told them the same thing every time. "My first priority is to my patient." She'd taken the desk over from a nurse that glared when she mentioned how many puzzle games he'd uploaded. Well she could out-glare him any minute of the day, but right then it barely took a glance to get him to turn tail and scamper off. She'd changed into scrubs before stepping in to assist in the surgery. Her uniform and coat had been taken away to god knows where. A scrub hat was still tied around her forehead. It had kittens on it. Well, it was a gift from her mom. Everyone should have a lucky scrub-hat.
Eventually, a change in vitals signal roused her attention. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes dulled by the long night and adrenaline crash, just in time to witness a nurse and a tech disappear into Michael's room.
She shoved herself to her feet and followed.