| Aches, Pains, and Rashes |
| Summary: | Cilusia shows up at sickbay with symptoms similar to other deckies. |
| Date: | 25 Mar 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | Contagious Party |
| Players: |
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| Sickbay - Deck 10 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Being able to accommodate combat casualties requires room, and the Sickbay has it. Beds line each side of the room with privacy curtains strung up and readily available. Large vaulted lockers hold access to the supplies at the far end of the area. Nearer the front, a Petty Officer sits ready to dispense simple items like ibuprofen and aspirin. Further to the rear is an area prepped twenty-four hours a day for emergency surgery. To the side are a set of double doors that lead to the Recovery Ward where patients can recuperate. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #392 |
With a creak and a groan, Cilusia comes down to sickbay. It's not the hatch, but the woman herself. Rather than a fluid gait, it's an awkward wincing limp that she uses to propel herself through the ship. Despite the fact that she's just showered, the offduty threads still show some sweat around the neck, which in addition to a flushed look make some sickness perfectly clear to any orderly or corpsman she meets on the way to get checked out.
DeMaratus is standing in the middle of the sickbay, specifically over a bed occupied by a sleeping patient. He taps the end of his pen against his chin for a moment, looking thoughtful before he makes a few careful marks on the patient's chart and puts it back in its place. That done, he turns about in time to spot Cilusia, his mouth twisting up into a concerned frown as he takes a few steps towards her to help her immediately towards one of the racks without a word.
"Think I got the flu, or something," she confesses without even being asked. "Chills, sore in the joints, headaches. And even though the chow hall food is shitty, I can usually keep it down." With that sort of stiff shuffle, she allows herself to get helped on over to one of the beds - conveniently placed just a hair too high - and has to grimace and work at getting in.
DeMaratus nods his head, brow furrowing slightly as he listens to the symptoms and reaches for a fresh chart, filling out one of the spaces in cryptic medical shorthand before looking up and finally speaking. His voice is low and full of concern, consummately serious, "It sounds like the flu. Do you mind if I check for a few things first, though? I'm Dee, by the way … " The new doctor leaves the statement open, clearly not too fussed with his full name or rank, and waits for her to fill it with her own name. The perils of being newly transferred.
"Fasi. Cilusia. Pee-Oh Two, from down on the deck." When she hops up on the bed and lies back, she gives a little wince and does her best to keep her lower back from grinding on the sheets two much. "Damn back," she says before rolling on her side to face the doctor and lie more comfortably while giving the rest of the required info. "No, no, check out all you want. I feel like frakkin' shit right now though."
"Let's see what we can do about that, huh?" DeMaratus gives a broad smile aimed to reassure and takes a seat next to the bed, tugging over a tray arrayed with various instruments of diagnosing. The first one is an electronic thermometer, which he deposits the business end of in her ear after moving some hair aside to get at it. He holds it there for a moment until there is a telltale beep and he draws it away, looking at the display before putting it back down on the tray. That done, he leans forward and places his stethoscope in his ears and gets up to walk around to the other side of the bed so he's facing her back, "I'm just going to your shirt here, and then can you take three deep breaths for me?"
"You're the doc, doc," she replies. "Just don't cop a feel or anything. Not like there's much to feel, but, you know the deal," she says with a little smirk. The shirt would be lifted to reveal the stretchy material of a sports bra, the smooth skin between it and that last thing of note: the red, itchy looking rash that appears to have been dug at for some time. "Tried using some of that anti-scratch cream, but it hasn't done a godsdamned thing."
"I'll try to restrain myself," DeMaratus says with a grin, a slight chuckle in his voice as he lifts the stethoscope and presses it against the section of back not otherwise covered by rash or sports bra. He eyes the rash critically as he listens through the stethoscope, speaking up, "Okay, take a deep breath."
There's the rising and falling of her chest as she does so…after giving a little squirm and groan at the cold stethoscope. Everytime the metal is placed on a flat part of her back, she takes another deep breath without having to be asked. "Say when to go back to normal," offers Cilusia between listening.
"When," DeMaratus answers, taking the stethoscope away and draping it around his shoulders once again. He pauses a moment to take a look at the rash, furrowing his brow as he gives it a once over and then stands up to walk around the bed so they're face to face once again, "So you said you've been using the anti-histamine cream and it hasn't done anything? Are you allergic to anything that you know of?"
"Nothing that I know, nope. Been here all this time with no troubles, and there hasn't been anything that's changed!" Finished with the stethoscope, Cilusia pulled down the tanktop of her offduty threads. "But…wasn't there another deckie hauled down here for something similar, the other day? I haven't been paying much attention, since I've spent every free minute in the racks."
"There was," DeMaratus says with an incline of his head, writing down whatever findings he's gathered so far on the chart, "Petty Officer Timon and Crewman Laramy." He recites the names without having to refer to any paperwork, nor does he stumble over them, "We've got them under observation. The symptoms are similar, but I think we ought to make sure this isn't anything else before we decide you've got the same thing. So, nothing has changed? You haven't eaten anything different? Used a different soap?" Civilian doctor habits die hard.
"I use the soap that they give me, and the chow that they cook for us. Hasn't changed since the first day I was transported on over to this bucket." While she talks, she keeps lying on her side, enjoying the repieve that lying down offers from walking about on stiff joints. "Just basic painkillers and all for the pains and aches, dealing through the sniffles and all. Today was the first shift I felt shitty enough to not work."
"Alright," DeMaratus nods his head, making yet another mark on the chart, "Well, from what I can tell we need to get you off your feet and give you time to recover. Which means you're gonna have to become a guest of Hotel Sickbay until I give the word otherwise. What I'm going to do, though, is give you a hydrocortisone cream for that rash - it might help to bring it down a little. I'll also give you an analgesic for the headache and the sore joints."
"What's the difference between those and the things I've already been stuffing down my gullet and smearing on my back? Also, I'm going to need a note or whatever sent to the Chief. Don't think he's going to like having another tech out of service - you said there were two others, right? Damn. Wonder if I got whatever this is from them." Cilusia ponders with a hmmmming noise, scrunching up her nose and mouth as she does so.
"Truthfully?" DeMaratus begins, looking up from his writing for a moment, "We'll have to find out. An antihistamine is for allergic reactions, but hydrocortisone is a steroid. It mightn't work, but it might. As for the painkillers, all I can say is that a course of them might make things a little more bearable. And don't worry; I'll talk to the Chief. Might suck to have a bunch of his people off duty, but if it is something contagious it'll be better than having all of his people off eventually."
"Well, let's get on it…come on. It's taken all my willpower to not scratch this mother frakker just in the time I've been here!" That said, she starts to squirming uncomfortably in the bed. "Damn this suuuuuucks!" she comments so astutely, as regards to her whole achey, itchy situation.
"I'll bet it does," DeMaratus says in agreement, smiling as he stands up to go and fetch a tube of hydrocortisone cream from a locked cabinet on the other side of the sickbay, "But you're lucky enough to be under the care of an exceptionally good physician." He grins a little over his shoulder, coming back over with the tube and holding it out for her.
"What kind of damn doctor doesn't even help a patient in need by rubbing some cream on her back?" Cilusia adopts a fake pleading tone now, looking back over her shoulder with a little kind of grin. "Get some gloves and help me out here doc! I'm in paiiiiiin…kinda." Then she goes back to looking completely the other way on her side.
"Didn't want to get called up on malpractice on the first day of my transfer," DeMaratus answers with a laugh, reaching to retrieve a pair of latex gloves and donning them with an audible snap. That done, he takes a seat down on the opposite side of the bed to face her back and flicks the top off of the tube. He lifts the shirt with one hand and squirts a dob of hydrocortisone cream into his palm, "Alright. It's gonna be cold as Hades. Don't say I didn't warn you."
"If that shit takes the sting out of that thing, I won't even make you bring me a waiver to sign. Just slap that stuff on and do whatever! Frak! Can't even lie down and get decent rack time with that thing. I'm a frakkin' back sleeper!" Even before he starts to slather the cream on, Cilusia's arching her back all weirdly, in anticipation of it being cold it would seem!
"Alright," DeMaratus nods his head, reaching out and starting to smear the cream over the rash on Cilusia's back. In order to mask the coldness of the stuff, he attempts to distract her with a barrage of questions, "So, how long have you been stationed aboard the Cerberus? I'm new here myself."
"Well, since this frakkin' monster set sail on a three-hour tour. You know the drill. Punch one frakker in the face and they get an attitude, and you find yourself shipped off to parts unknown." When the cream does finally make contact, she arches the lower part of her back…again. "So, the whole time this beast's been flying, really. Now, out of the brig is a different question."
DeMaratus continues to apply the cream, talking conversationally as he goes, "Really? I was on the Praetorian before they transferred me over here a few days ago. There's a bigger need for doctors on a battlestar than on a missile frigate, it seems. "
"Big shocker there, huh? Especially when the deck seems to have the plague going around or something!" Cilusia says that without knowing if that word has a stigma or something around sickbay. Maybe it causes all the doors to seal up so folks can be tested for the actual plague! "But seriously, good timing, huh? The itching's going down a little I guess. It's not like I'm jonesing to scratch anymore."
"That's a start," DeMaratus says with a nod, keeping his eyes on the rash as he goes about his medical business, "But yeah, it seems like good timing. Although, honestly, I'd rather be treating the occasional broken bone or headache. It's not like we don't have enough problems out here without getting sick on top of it, huh? The itch going down is a start. Might take a little while for it to kick in."
"Am I being confined here for serious? Do I need to go down to my bunks and get my books and shit, or what?" With the rash itching moderately less, Cilusia tugs down the hem of her tank, and twists herself around enough to swing her legs over the side again and set herself upright on the bed.
"I'll put out word for someone to bring them up for you," DeMaratus says, applying the last of the cream and sitting back, "I'm afraid I'm serious about you having to stay here, though. Looks as though this is contagious and we'll have to keep you here so it doesn't get spread around. But you'll be out of here before long, I'm sure. Can't keep a good deckworker from their job for long, right?"
"If my joints get too painful to move, it's going to be hard to work." The order to stay officially being granted, Cilusia starts to kick off her boots. They drop to the deck with a thunk, and she lies back in the bed. "So, what's there to do about this place but feel miserable and suck down pills?" she says with a wan smile, before wiping the sweat off her forehead and just lying with her arm draped over her face.