Post by Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro on Nov 9, 2012 3:58:47 GMT -5
Despite each individual present assumedly being of moderate to high intelligence and having the benefit of the long and thorough period of schooling required to become a member of the medical community, none of them seemed to have the sense to organize themselves. Instead, they seemed to be content with forming into smaller cliques of those familiar with one another, or at least those who had grown comfortable in one another’s presence since boarding the cruise liner. And while such groupings were convenient, the lack of communication between the different sections ended up being counterproductive. A behavior which Miss Lavaeu had no intention of tolerating. Taking the metaphorical reigns on the situation, the exotic woman began barking orders. At first the others were somewhat hesitant in following her commands, but the absolute certainty which colored her voice combined with her uncharacteristic stature was enough to coax them into falling in line. In truth, it was a role that she was rather well suited for. The women in her family were particularly used to getting their way.
"-the meantime, we must act under the assumption that this is all we have. It appears that the men and women that preceded us took a haphazard approach to storing materials. A luxury we do not have. Move everything out of the drawers with wet spots; moisture will ruin our stock of bandaging. As we do not appear to have a refrigeration unit, someone locate the coldest section of the room, preferably a place that does not come into direct contact with sunlight. We can put our sensitive medications there until we find a better place for them." However, her rounds around the clinic were disrupted by a sudden clamor outside the door. A cruel deep-throated laugh, the kind that almost invariably seems to come at someone else’s expense, accompanied by a female voice, who sounded much less amused with the current situation. Several seconds later a brown-haired woman pushed her way into the clinic, her face locked in an expression most sour. However, what really drew her attention wasn’t the leering guard behind the door, nor Good Samaritan herself, but the poor lad she had draped over her shoulder. His head was bleeding profusely, and while his eyes were open, the glassy stare he wore gave the doctor cause for concern.
“It seems our preparations were well-timed.” She could not help but sound a bit smug about her own insight. Still, there were more important matters at hand. Dropping her clipboard off on the counter (For later review, of course) she waved Veronika over to an unoccupied exam table, her mind already in medical mode. Complying, the two women helped the lie down. "Miss. Right here will suffice." From the way his neck was slumped, it’s possible he had a neck injury. As they appeared to lack any form of cervical collar, she decided to improvise, snatching the white coat off one of her associates as he passed without as much as a word.
Deaf to the fellow’s protests, she rolled up the garment into a ball and used it to prop up the man’s neck. As with most head wounds, it was a messy affair, and several of those she had deduced were nurses quickly moved to wipe away the fluid so she could see the wound: He had a cut on the side of his head, surrounded by a large uniform section of swiftly-swelling flesh. An easy diagnosis. "Blunt force trauma. External bleeding. Apparent loss of coordination. Hey. Look at me. What's your name?"
"Ughh." Groaning for obvious reasons, the man’s answer came far later than it should. "Jage-" Without waiting for him to finish, Miss Lavaeu planted a solid smack across the patient’s cheek, much to the surprise to those assembled around her. The patient, however, did not seem to even recognize that he had been hit.
"Hey! What's wrong with you?"
"Slowed reaction to physical stimuli. Unequal pupil size. Clear indicators of MTBI. Someone hold his head still." With the rest of her staff apparently locked in a stupor, she had little choice to point to the brunette who had brought this man to her. "You."
With him restrained, she was able to get to work. Slipping a styptic pencil out of her pocket, Mumba drew the chalk-like substance across his cut, small bits of the implement breaking off into a fine powder that covered the wound, acting as a swift coagulant. Unfortunately, she did not possess a similarly quick fix for the swelling, nor the bruises that were sure to make themselves present in a few hours. Which meant doing things the old fashioned way. Sort of.
"Here. Acetaminophen." A fellow offered a bottle of small white pills, but she brushed them off.
"No. While I agree intracranial swelling is a possibility, I would rather save our antipyretics for other contingencies.” With the immediate situation stabilized, she was free to bend down and root through her luggage for a small bag, filled with plant foliage. Grabbing a handful of said leaves, she presented them for consumption. "Open your mouth."
Displaying an understandable level of confusion, her patient just stared at her. Realizing he would not comply until an explanation was given, she explained. "These are Coca leaves. The Coca plant produces a large amount of alkaloids that are an effective counter for head trauma. Benzoylecgonine to dull pain, truxilline to construct blood vessels, nicotine to act as a stimulant. Should help minimize your symptoms. Now chew."
Without any other white-coats offering a better option, he did as the Voodoo Doctor asked, willingly biting down on the leaves. "Taste weird..."
“Irrelevant. It will assist in your recovery. You can let go of his head now, by the way." Lavaeu said sharply. Normally she did give patients a lime to accompany the coca, as it helped balance the taste and the acid within released the chemicals in the leaves quicker. But given the dearth of medical supplies they were currently suffering, she doubted there was a well-stocked cupboard of fruit anywhere in the immediate vicinity. With the man’s mouth otherwise occupied, she moved onto the second best source for information. The person who brought him in."How did he get injured? If it had been a fall, I would have expected to see injuries on his face or neck."
"-the meantime, we must act under the assumption that this is all we have. It appears that the men and women that preceded us took a haphazard approach to storing materials. A luxury we do not have. Move everything out of the drawers with wet spots; moisture will ruin our stock of bandaging. As we do not appear to have a refrigeration unit, someone locate the coldest section of the room, preferably a place that does not come into direct contact with sunlight. We can put our sensitive medications there until we find a better place for them." However, her rounds around the clinic were disrupted by a sudden clamor outside the door. A cruel deep-throated laugh, the kind that almost invariably seems to come at someone else’s expense, accompanied by a female voice, who sounded much less amused with the current situation. Several seconds later a brown-haired woman pushed her way into the clinic, her face locked in an expression most sour. However, what really drew her attention wasn’t the leering guard behind the door, nor Good Samaritan herself, but the poor lad she had draped over her shoulder. His head was bleeding profusely, and while his eyes were open, the glassy stare he wore gave the doctor cause for concern.
“It seems our preparations were well-timed.” She could not help but sound a bit smug about her own insight. Still, there were more important matters at hand. Dropping her clipboard off on the counter (For later review, of course) she waved Veronika over to an unoccupied exam table, her mind already in medical mode. Complying, the two women helped the lie down. "Miss. Right here will suffice." From the way his neck was slumped, it’s possible he had a neck injury. As they appeared to lack any form of cervical collar, she decided to improvise, snatching the white coat off one of her associates as he passed without as much as a word.
Deaf to the fellow’s protests, she rolled up the garment into a ball and used it to prop up the man’s neck. As with most head wounds, it was a messy affair, and several of those she had deduced were nurses quickly moved to wipe away the fluid so she could see the wound: He had a cut on the side of his head, surrounded by a large uniform section of swiftly-swelling flesh. An easy diagnosis. "Blunt force trauma. External bleeding. Apparent loss of coordination. Hey. Look at me. What's your name?"
"Ughh." Groaning for obvious reasons, the man’s answer came far later than it should. "Jage-" Without waiting for him to finish, Miss Lavaeu planted a solid smack across the patient’s cheek, much to the surprise to those assembled around her. The patient, however, did not seem to even recognize that he had been hit.
"Hey! What's wrong with you?"
"Slowed reaction to physical stimuli. Unequal pupil size. Clear indicators of MTBI. Someone hold his head still." With the rest of her staff apparently locked in a stupor, she had little choice to point to the brunette who had brought this man to her. "You."
With him restrained, she was able to get to work. Slipping a styptic pencil out of her pocket, Mumba drew the chalk-like substance across his cut, small bits of the implement breaking off into a fine powder that covered the wound, acting as a swift coagulant. Unfortunately, she did not possess a similarly quick fix for the swelling, nor the bruises that were sure to make themselves present in a few hours. Which meant doing things the old fashioned way. Sort of.
"Here. Acetaminophen." A fellow offered a bottle of small white pills, but she brushed them off.
"No. While I agree intracranial swelling is a possibility, I would rather save our antipyretics for other contingencies.” With the immediate situation stabilized, she was free to bend down and root through her luggage for a small bag, filled with plant foliage. Grabbing a handful of said leaves, she presented them for consumption. "Open your mouth."
Displaying an understandable level of confusion, her patient just stared at her. Realizing he would not comply until an explanation was given, she explained. "These are Coca leaves. The Coca plant produces a large amount of alkaloids that are an effective counter for head trauma. Benzoylecgonine to dull pain, truxilline to construct blood vessels, nicotine to act as a stimulant. Should help minimize your symptoms. Now chew."
Without any other white-coats offering a better option, he did as the Voodoo Doctor asked, willingly biting down on the leaves. "Taste weird..."
“Irrelevant. It will assist in your recovery. You can let go of his head now, by the way." Lavaeu said sharply. Normally she did give patients a lime to accompany the coca, as it helped balance the taste and the acid within released the chemicals in the leaves quicker. But given the dearth of medical supplies they were currently suffering, she doubted there was a well-stocked cupboard of fruit anywhere in the immediate vicinity. With the man’s mouth otherwise occupied, she moved onto the second best source for information. The person who brought him in."How did he get injured? If it had been a fall, I would have expected to see injuries on his face or neck."