| Blue Booties |
| Summary: | Good Gracious visits those trapped in the makeshift Isolation Ward. |
| Date: | 2041.07.09 |
| Related Logs: | Previous night's +event. |
| Players: |
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| Recovery Room — Deck 10 — Sickbay — Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Post-Holocaust Day: #133 |
| A much more quiet area of Medical, this elongated room is also lined with beds. Each is similarly outfitted with privacy curtains as necessary and even the paint on the walls has been lightened in an attempt to help lift spirits. Chairs are readily available all over the place so that visitors can pull one up to talk to the patients during their recovery. Near the entrance, visiting hours are posted with a very conspicuous 'No Smoking' sign. |
| Condition Level: 3 — All Clear |
The old curse of living in dangerous times is holding true for Sickbay yet again. A frantic reshuffling of recovering patients and conversion of one alcove of the Recovery Room has resulted in a makeshift Isolation Ward for those returned from yesterday's mission. The wheeze of portable oxygen filters; the soft crackling rustle of translucent, impermeable plastic walls; the knowledge that the enclosure is not so much for the inhabitants' safety, but for the rest of the ship.
There's a small, sealed alcove for Medical staff to don their hazmat suits before they squeeze through the rather sphincter-like entryway — it's in here that the Interim CMO dons her booties, gloves, breathing apparatus, facemask, and incongruously cheery blue suit, before coming through.
Luckily there aren't too many that need to be kept in the quarantine area, so it's not -too- crowded, and at the moment, pretty quiet. Cora sits propped up on one of the beds, and though she's visibly pale and drawn, she's currently writing in a notebook in a serious, non-doodling fashion. She looks up at the sound of someone entering that alcove, head lifted slowly to watch, and then a hand lifted to give a little wave at the entrance. "Lt. Bia," she greets the CMO.
Sofia gets to hang out in the totally awesome quarantine area. She's currently one of the holy buddies. She has one of those little nosepipes, likely to help her disgruntled and beshot lungs. She is awake, somewhat bleary-eyed. But awake. "Sir," She greets softly, her voice a little raspier. She seems tired and a little queasy looking.
"I do apologize for my outfit," comes Good Gracious's weary-warm drawl, muffled by the suit and competing with the sound of her breathing apparatus, "but I'm afraid it's a necessary thing while we figure out what happened to all y'all out there." She walks — waddles, nearly, her disposable booties whisking loudly against the floor — over to a wheeled tray of supplies, and says, "You took a powerful dose of radiation out there. Hain't seen the official report yet. Was there a hull breach?"
Cora smiles crookedly at the doctor's words, and nods a little, though not much, the movement curtailed as if uncomfortable. A finger lifts to press to her eyebrow and then she replies, "No— not that I'm aware of. We didn't locate the source of the radiation. It may have been deliberate." Her voice too is somewhat quieter than usual, maybe out of deference to those asleep, but a little raspy, too.
Sofia peers over at Cora and Bia. She seems cautious about speaking too much. She slowly shakes her head, no. No idea on her part. She seems peaceful, if tired. "Not that I saw. I was kinda more worried about Coll though," She admits softly before falling quiet and coughing.
The soft rattle of pills against plastic, and lids being twisted on and off, drifts over from the tray Grace works at. After a few minutes, she makes her way through the small Isolation 'community', leaving little cardboard cups of pills and little plastic cups of chalky white liquid for all and sundry. They're no cookies, but they'll have to do. "We've got everyone we can afford, and then some, working on your tests," she says, looking through her facemask toward Cora as she does. "I'm hoping we'll have all y'all freed by tomorrow." Over to Sofia she moves, setting her allotment of medicine down on her bedside table. "I'll just raise your head a little to make this easier," she says, moving to the metal crank to adjust the mattress. It's jarringly loud and squeaky in the enclosed area.
Cora watches the pills and such being passed out, though she doesn't really bother to turn her head to watch the progress aorund the room until Sofia's approached. She glances that way, towards the injured deckie, and then back to nod at Bia. "They've—" she breaks off at the squeaky bed, wincing before teeth grit and eyes briefly close against the sound. She continues when it's over, "They got the samples we brought back, too? That liquid may be important."
Sofia tries to hide a wince. Stupid abdominal muscles. What have THEY done for her recently? Besides get shot? She grunts, obviously grateful. "Thanks," She doesn't seem eager to see what pills everyone else gets. She smiles a little. "Well, that's good," She replies, her voice still soft and slightly wheezy sounding. Once she's in a reasonably upright position, she'll peer. "Take … all those?" Peer. Hrrrrm. "Yeah. I made sure to put the vial in my gear before I fell," Sofia remarks quietly.
"Everything's been secured, yes," Grace affirms, looking back to Cora as she finishes adjusting Sofia's bed. "I suppose we can see it as a small blessing amidst all this. Let me fetch you both some water for all those pills." A tiny one, a jumbo one. There may even be a red and blue one. No choosing allowed, though. Back to the tray she whisks herself, collecting shatterproof plastic tumblers full of cool water for each of them. "They should ease your nausea and headache a little."
Cora nods to Bia's assurances, and then back to Sofia, calling up a quick smile of approval as she nods, "Good work. Thank you." The pills are eyed, the water more welcomingly, and she stretches out still-slightly-bony arms to pick the cups up, tipping a couple of pills into her mouth at a time and following up with water until they're all gone. "Thank you," she says politely to Bia, settling back onto those pillows once more. She picks up her notebook again, but doesn't manage to get back to writing, struggling to focus her eyes on the page and then finally shutting them as she goes just a little bit more pale and finally sets the thing down. "How is Crewman Coll?" she asks instead.
Sofia lifts her eyes at the pills. Oh dear. She smiles briefly back at Cora, but - those pills! Hmmm. She will carefully reach and accept the pills and water. "Thank you," She's not ungrateful. Just - out of it and none too pleased about being zorched with radiation. She takes a deep breath and will carefully take her medicine like a good snipe. At the question over Coll, Sofia's eyes reflect a worry.
How is Crewman Coll? She's the one near the gurney-sized emergency-exit hatch, hooked up to heart monitor and a trach tube, her throat and upper body swathed in gauze and more tubes than ought to go in anyone at any given time. Good Gracious turns to look toward the Crewman's gurney for a moment before she answers. "She's stable," she replies. "And we're hoping she stays that way. Asclepius hain't given up on her yet." As the medicines are taken, the empty cups are gathered up and carried off to a black plastic drum emblazoned with unfriendly HAZARDOUS WASTE placards. "I'd best see your meals are in order," she says. "Anything else I can help you with, before I go? I know the situation makes visits a little scarcer than I'd like them to be."
"Good," Cora nods at the confirmation that Coll is stable. The lack of emergency surgery and the like has obviously made that seem the case, but the doctor's words help to clear up lingering doubts and she nods again, passing back the empty cups. She considers the question for a moment, and then shrugs just a little, shaking her head very slightly, just the merest suggestion of movement. "I think if you could let Major Tillman know I'm prepared to be debriefed whenever he's ready, that would be it. Thank you, Lieutenant." She's slipped back into formality, unsurprisingly, but her smile is warm, if wan.
"That's a relief," Sofia rasps softly. She smiles a little. Though she is slightly glazed from - well, being tired, beat up, nauseas and mildly irradiated. Hopefully she doesn't glow in the dark. She yawns. "It was good to see you sir," She remarks quietly. Although her eyebrows lift at the placards. "Hee. I need one of those for my trunk," She admits. She seems amused and somewhat saddened. "It's okay. There's just lots of questions and worry I guess." Sigh.
"Of course, Miss Nikephoros. I'll pass that along to the Major immediately. It's a pleasure to see you as well, Miss Wolfe — and doing so well already." Good Gracious is taking every small blessing she can get, currently. "Rest you easy, both of you, and I'll be back with your meals as soon as they're ready." There's a smile, somewhere behind the slightly-fogged facemask, though it may be hard to see — and with that, the Interim CMO slips back through the elasticized threshhold between Isolation and entry/exitway, to begin the fussy process of decontamination.
"Great, thank you," Cora says to Bia again with another faint smile. She nods again, lifting a hand in another small wave to the medical officer before sinking back into the pillows as she exits.
Sofia seems bemused, "I'm just …too stubborn to sleep all the time." She's pretty bad off, but there's some part of her that clings with the tenacity of a pit bull coming off a diet to a steak. She takes a deep breath and nods. "Sure thing. Not like - they'd be too happy with me if I wandered off. Be well sir, and thank you." As if she COULD wander farther than she could crawl before flopping over. "It makes you feel weird… that people have to clean themselves after seeing you." It troubles her a little and she leans back, breathing a bit easier now that she's propped up a bit.
<OOC> Bia says, "The official verdict, from any of the lovely blue-suited Medical staff that come through, is that you're here until the tests clear. Which Will Happen When It Happens(tm). They're hoping for < 24hr."
<OOC> Bia says, "And nobody wants to keep you guys penned forever. It's likely you'll be in here until tomorrow, however. Visitors are fine, as long as they are in full hazmat."