| Rose-Colored Glasses |
| Summary: | Cameron meets with Sawyer on the sly to try and determine why she is getting such bad headaches. |
| Date: | 24 Nov 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Off The Books |
| Players: |
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| News Room - Deck 3 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| This room isn't huge by any means, but it does have all the updated equipment and a small news staff that runs the area. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #271 |
So many things are going on with the fleet right now with Tauron to explore and a pending execution now added into the mix, what's a busy reporter to do? The answer, of course, is to be kneeling on the deck amidst a splatter of belongings that look vaguely like the away kit that marines are supplied with before going on a ground mission. She's sorting through MRE's and various other survival implements, tucking them into a rucksack in a manner that seems to make some sort of organizational sense to the reporter. Of course, she's added a few things into the mix, like her vocal recorder and small digital camera.
Whistling a jaunty tune as he walks down the hall with a modified medkit upon his back, Cameron pauses just outside the News Room door. He said he would come and here he is, as promised. Leaning in he raps his knuckles upon the open door and calls as well, "Knock, knock?" Entering before he's invited, he strolls over to where Sawyer is busy packing, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants. Dressed casually and off duty, he's rolled up the sleeves of his black sweater and at the moment is rocking back and forth on the heels of his hiking boots. "Going somewhere???" he asks in a singsong voice, ocean eyes scanning over the various items and materials that she is stuffing into a rucksack. "Be sure to pack some rose-colored glasses before you go down there," Cameron warns. "It's depressing. And that was before the Cylons struck."
Sawyer looks up with a flick of her hair from in front of her eyes and a smirk that touches just the bare corners of her lips. "So I've heard. Looks like my little research project paid off, hmm?" Referring, of course, to the book that she checked out of the library about Tauron just before the fleet decided to bugger off that way. "I'll be taking a few overnight trips down to the planet, as I have the others. See what there is to see and do my duty as the ship's historian. Nothing like our little vacation on Leonis, I hope, but regardless I'll need to stop by the sickbay proper to receive a dose of anti-rads before I head down." She stops what she's doing and sits back on her haunches. "Thanks for coming, doc."
Smirking back, Cameron shrugs and notes, "Good timing, if nothing else. But perhaps you already had a tip that Tauron was the next planet on our list?" Not privy to such information and, quite honestly, not really all that eager to know, Cameron is more like a leaf on the, going whichever way he is blown and doing his best not to get too worried about the what and the where." He glances around the room and muses, "Historian now instead of news reporter. Do you find they're different jobs in the end? Or just same work, different audience?" Slinging the pack from off his shoulder, Cameron gives Sawyer a smile and a nod. "Sure, no problem." He pats a nearby desk and offers, "Have a seat and let's take a look, shall we?"
Sawyer presses a hand into the hexagonal plating of the floor, using that to help hoist herself to her feet. Palms smooth out her skirt as she moves towards the desk he has indicated, and she perches on the edge of it's top. "I never reveal my sources." Sawyer says with a hint of amusement coloring her voice. Tugging, she pulls up the sleeves of her sweater to mid forearm, idly scratching at her left wrist. "Being the ship's historian allows me certain clearances I otherwise wouldn't be granted, that's all. And recording history is somewhat more…dry, to answer your question. Dates, names, death counts. Preference being you leave out all the gushy 'human' feelings." She clears her throat dryly. "So."
Nodding Cameron notes, "But there's also a difference of audience. News reporting is for now, history is for later." If there is a later. But rather than going down that path, Cameron starts to pull out a few things from his bag, crossing over to close the door, since she wanted this private, before returning to Sawyer's side. "So first, a few questions. How long have you been getting these headaches now? What have you been doing for them? How painful have they been? When, generally, do they tend to happen? Mornings? Afternoons? Evenings?"
Sawyer's eyes widen a hint, impressed. "That's very astute of you, doctor." As he moves to close the door, she tugs the sleeves of her black sweater in the other direction, this time pulling them off her hands and eventually shrugging out of the garment all together. Beneath, she wears a crisp white blouse with sharp creases in the sleeves. "They seem to happen daily, and for the last few months or so. The intensity seems to have worsened and now I'd say they're a six to an eight on a regular basis. Occasionally, they get worse to the point where I've thrown up a time or two, but mostly it's just a nuisance. I work quite a bit, so it's hard to delineate a time of day but I'd say the longer I'm awake and working, the more they have a tendency to creep up."
Smirking a little, Cameron shrugs and grins, pointing out, "Hey, I wents to college." But the more she describes her problem, the less amused the doctor seems to be. "Six to an eight? On a scale of one to ten? You realize that on those scales, a ten is like hitting the peak of a contraction during childbirth? The kind of pain that has you lying on the floor screaming, or in so much pain that you can't scream?" He holds up a pen and instructs, "Follow the pen with your eyes…" and as he moves it right to left he asks, "Care to restate your pain levels, or is a six to an eight still accurate?" He continues to move the pen from side to side, and then towards her nose and away from it as he asks, "How many times have you thrown up? Has it been happening more often and with greater frequency?"
"Maybe I just have a low tolerance for pain. But for argument's sake as I've never had a baby, we'll say four to six. As long as it makes you stop looking at me as if I've grown a third head." Sawyer focuses on the pen, following it's movements as she talks. There doesn't seem to be any weakness in her eye muscles, and she does so with ease. "Twice. I've thrown up twice after the throbbing got too intense. It seemed to actually relieve some pressure. As for the intensity? Let's just say I used to be able to ignore it after a handful of aspirin, but now I can't work at the computer as long as I used to be able to, or read for that matter."
Putting down the pen, Cameron lifts up an ocular magnifier, the light shining into Sawyer's right eye as Cameron gently pulls back her eyelid to keep her from blinking and turns the device from side to side, noting, "It's not that you have a third head. It's more that the symptoms that you're giving me could be quite serious. On the one hand, you may have developed migraines, which are difficult at best to cure. At the worst you could have a tumor. Last woman I knew who had headaches so bad that she threw up had a brain tumor the size of a lemon in her head." Drawing back, Cameron meets Sawyer's gaze directly and notes, "I'm not saying this is the case for you. But this could be serious. Why did you wait for it to get so bad before asking for help? And why didn't you just go to the Sickbay?" He pulls back her left eyelid next, his hands callused but gentle, and scans the opposite eye in turn.
Sawyer winces slightly when he starts a slight more invasive process, namely holding her eyelid open. "Probably because I never want to hear the term 'tumor the size of a lemon'. That and I sort of…wore out my welcome in sickbay. It's nothing against medicine, I applaud what you folks do. It's just been manageable, and I didn't see the reason to waste the resources. Just. Tell me it's nothing serious, that I work too hard and need a vacation. That's what you're supposed to say." It's hard to discern, but there might even be a thread of a plea in her voice.
His touch is very gentle as he checks both eyes before pulling back and setting the tool aside. “So there's throbbing pain, any sensitivity to light? And you can't read or work at the computer for very long. His lips quirk slightly as he notes, "Well, hopefully now that I'm there you'll be less hesitant to come by. I'd rather you waste my resources than not take care of yourself." His head tilts to one side before he reaches into his bag and pulls out a book. "We all work too hard and need a vacation, unfortunately. Alas I didn't grade all that highly on bedside manners. I'm a little too blunt and honest, apparently." Handing the book over to Sawyer, Cameron orders, "Read this. Just a little bit. Aloud." And then he folds his arms over his chest and watches what she does with the book. Where she holds it, how often she has to move it closer or further away, and what her eyes do as she tries to read.
"Self medicating counts as taking care of myself." Sawyer says ruefully, snatching the book from Cameron a little too forcefully. First, she looks at the spine of the book, holding it almost at arm's length to read the title. With a little mmph sound, she cracks it open to a random page and she squints at the words. It's after a moment that she's finally able to read the words on the page, rambling them off at a slow but steady pace. By the time she's reached the end of a paragraph, a hand is at her forehead, fingers massaging at her temple.
Chuckling softly, Cameron shakes his head and blows out a breath. "What is it with this ship and insanely stubborn women?" he asks the air between them or perhaps the Gods above. He watches her struggle with the book and then reaches out to take it from her gently as she starts to struggle harder and harder. "Well there are three possibilities as far as I can see it. The least likely is a brain tumor, which may or may not be the size of a lemon. That I can't test for unless you come into Sickbay. The second more likely is that you have developed migraines, which tend to result in throbbing unilateral pain lasting anywhere's from four to twelve hours and causing such lovely side effects as nausea, vomiting and photophobia, which is to say an increased sensitivity to light. Or, and this is the most likely," he notes solemnly, placing the book to one side before he lifts his gaze back to Sawyer, "you have hyperopia."
"I'm not stubborn. I'm 'willed'." Sawyer relinquishes the book with a sigh, shoulders slumping forward as he starts to list off the possible causes of her headaches. The frown on her face is indication enough that none of these things seem to be a pleasant diagnosis. When he settles on one, her arms fold defensively over her chest. "What in the name of Branchala's balls is hyperopia?" For as educated as she is, she's not precisely familiar with all the medical lingo, and that term seems to fall into her unknown category.
"Semantics," Cameron counters with a small smile. Reaching into his bag, Cameron pulls out a small bottle and shakes two pills into his hand before passing them to Sawyer. "Farsightedness," he offers with a wry smirk. "Here, these are a bit heavier duty than just aspirin and should help with the headache. In the meanwhile, I believe there is a collection of glasses available. We should go through them to see if any are a good match for you. We may or may not be able to craft you some lenses. For that I'll need you to come to Sickbay so we can determine what your exact visual range is and then see if we have anyone on staff with the necessary expertise." Lifting one hand, Cameron pumps the air and cheerfully cheers, "Whoooo! Go hyperopia!"
Sawyer was preparing for the worst. It's evident in her body language from the slope of her shoulders to the set of her teeth. When Cameron tells her plain and simple that she needs reading glasses? Well, the journalist is skeptical at first and then she seems down right relieved. "Frak me sideways with a chainsaw, I need specs?" The tension seems to deflate from her frame like a balloon losing air. The whoosh is even audible. The heel of her hand touches to her forehead, "Fine, fine. I'll come to Sickbay. That's all it is though?" She cracks open an eye, looking at Cameron as if the other shoe is going to drop.
Wrinkling his nose slightly, Cameron notes, "I think you've been spending a little too much time with the Marines. Sideways with a chainsaw? Sounds very uncomfortable. But yes, I think you just need glasses. At any rate, lets start there and see if it helps. If the headaches go away, then bingo. If not, well, then we can look a little harder to see what's going on." His lips curl as she finally yields, his head bobbing. "Well, if you just want to see if we have something that will do in our collection box, there's no need to come to Sickbay. Even if we can determine your correct prescription, I don't know if we have the means to make lenses, and I'm not sufficiently skilled in laser eye surgery that I would want to try corrective surgery instead."
Sawyer slaps pantyhosed knees. "Glasses I can live with." Pleased as the proverbial punch, Sawyer reaches out to cup the doctor on both sides of the face and attempts to give him a quick smooch on the lips in a spontaneous bubble burst of emotion. "Great! Because I need you to sign off on a clean bill of health before I can go down to the planet. Last thing I want to be is a walking, reporting liability."
"Most people can," Cameron offers with dubious amusement, but he's wholly taken by surprise when her hands reach up to clasp his cheeks to pull him close and then she kisses his mouth. Whoa! Now that's appreciation for you! Sensing that it is a kiss of gratitude and nothing more, Cameron allows surprise and common sense to rule the day and does not kiss Sawyer back, but instead grins at her for a moment. But the moment fades as she goes on about a clean bill of health, the good, or perhaps not so good, doctor's brow lifting as he counters, "A clean bill of health? When was the last time you had a physical? If it's been over a year, then we really need to have you make an appointment before I can approve you for any planetary expeditions…."
Sawyer is all smiles now, despite the fact that she's currently battling one of those headaches. She looks down to the two pills he provided her, and without further ado, she pops both in her mouth before he can correct her on the dosage. The get swallowed dry just like that. "Not to worry, I had a full work up before they let me go down to Leonis. The only thing I was worried about this time is my headaches. I may be a lot of things, foolhardy among them, but I won't put the marines' lives in danger. If it's just a matter of needing reading glasses, then I should be good to go."
"Yes, yes, then you're good to go. Just try to avoid doing to much reading or writing till we get you some glasses. Dictation recordings only for a bit. That should help some with the eyestrain till we get you set. Also try to give your eyes a little rest from time to time throughout the day. If you want to drop by the Hangar tonight, I can pull the box of glasses from civilian supplies and we can see if there's any in there that are useful." Putting his various devices back in his pack he asks, "Is there anything else I can help you with? On the sly and all?"
Sawyer's grin turns wry. "I suppose this would be the time to abuse the situation? Weasel my way into some good narcotics or more than my fair share of birth control or the like? I think I'm alright, really. Especially if this is all just a matter of needing some corrective lenses. I'll make the trip down to the hangar, sure. You've been very kind catering to my eccentrics thus far."
Shoulders shrug as Cameron swings the back onto his back once more and notes, "It's all in the line of duty, and in the end not a big deal either way. I see you here, I see you there. So long as I can diagnose the problem correctly, I don't much care where or when such things happen." His head tilts as he notes, "I can't spare you any narcotics, but birth control we seem to have plenty of. So if you're getting any action, I can certainly hook you up. Discreetly that is," he notes with a waggle of his eyebrows. Turning he heads for the door and opens it, glancing back over his shoulder and he offers, "We'll see if we can't find some rose-colored glasses for you after all. Correct your eyesight and improve your tour or Tauron ever so slightly." And with a wave and cheerful, "Later, Historian!" Cameron is off and out of sight.