PHD #390: Free Man
Free Man
Summary: Circe clears Iosif to leave sickbay.
Date: 23 Mar 2042 AE
Related Logs: Contagious Party
Players:
Circe Iosif 
Recovery Room
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.
Post-Holocaust Day: #390

Iosif has been cooling his heels in Sickbay since the not-so-merry end to the part last night. Apart from being *very* hungover (which has blessedly passed by now), he's mostly just been restless. Though he has taken advantage of the downtime to do some lounging now. He's gotten ahold of a magazine from the reception area and is thumbing through it. It's a pop culture mag from Caprica that's more than a year old. But it's not like there's much new coming off the presses anymore, so he takes what he can get.

Tests needed to be done, an outbreak of what had occurred is not something that medical wants. Not at all. But Circe returns, clipboard under hand and stands near the end of his bed. "Got good news. Looks clear from what we can see." she explains rather forthwith. She lifts his file and clipboard, looking it over. "Clean as a whistle..though still quite a bit of alcohol in your blood stream from the sample." She lifts a brow, casting a gaze up through her lashes at him.

"Hey." That's piped pleasantly enough as Iosif rolls himself up, out of the lazy position he was sprawled in before, to be properly sitting. He offers Circe a crooked, if somewhat abashed, grin. Running his fingers through his short dark hair. "Got a bit off-color last night, didn't it? Was fun, though. At least, the first bit of it was. Until Clamps went to pieces like that. How's she doing, by the by?"

Back to looking over his bloodwork and tests, she lets the clipboard rest back at her side and she nods her head, "Yeah, just a little. You deckies are a resilient bunch and far too stubborn." Circe quips. She then smiles despite it and it fades some at his last question. "Not so good. I am sorry. We are doing what we can but she seems to be getting worse." It is bad news, but it needs to be delivered. "Everyone is cleared from last night, nothing seems wrong with any of you."

"You got any idea what's the matter with her?" Iosif asks, looking truly concerned now. "I mean…we all been pushed pretty hard, with round-the-chronometer repairs and such. Can stress…I mean, can that happen? You push yourself so hard you start…having seizures and such?"

"Stress can cause convulsions yes, but there is more to this I think." Circe explains and Iosif is watched. "I am going to go see the Chief in a bit, try to see if I can't link something to the cause. I am quite surprised there are not more of you showing symptons though." That suggests there is another besides Laramy. "Either way, I suggest you go get some rest, clean up. Eat. Build some strength back. Giving you a pass on duty for the day." She says, handing him a written excuse.

Iosif takes the pass with a grin. "Thanks. Can't say I'll complain about the rest. Oh, and thanks for rounding us all up last night. I hope I…we…didn't do anything too ruddy stupid." He offers her a little two-fingered salute. "Give my best to Clamps. Can she have visitors? She seemed in a pretty bad way, but I figure we should swing by to keep her company if she's up for it."

"No, not too much trouble. But I think I will carry sedatives with me next time." Circe nearly mutters. She smirks faintly though at the salute. "I don't think she will be ovelry responsive, to be honest. But you are welcome to go see her. She's not too far down, curtains closed." She indicates with a faint point of her hand. "Just don't get too close for now. We don't know what exactly it is and I would like to think we can keep it contianed." She offers him a faint smile. "Get some rest, Iosif."

"Maybe a blowgun with them tranq darts they use on them jungle beasts on Scorpia," Iosif suggests. "Should keep folks in line. Take it easy, Circe." And with that, he's off to grab some blessed rack time.

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