A Likely Laceration

Posted on Thu Nov 14th, 2024 @ 12:09pm by Gunnery Sergeant Matewa Natana & Lieutenant JG T'Mara

0 words; about a 1 minute read

Mission: Year One: Strange Bedfellows
Location: Sickbay, USS Moore
Timeline: MD005 - 1615 Hours

Matewa had been assisting Rufio in the shuttlebay, unsure why he was chosen when there were many others who could have helped, but he couldn't say no to his Filipino friend. In the process, Matewa suffered a burn on his forearm from a power junction and a laceration on the palm of the same hand.

With a heavy sigh and his wounds wrapped in a large bandage, Matewa headed to sickbay for medical attention. He found himself hoping to encounter the charming doctor there, but only time would tell if luck was on his side.

As he entered the sickbay, he looked around. "Hello?" he called out.

T'Mara stood in front of her still quite bare shelves and folded her arms as she studied the now empty space with a sense of consternation. Something had to go there. Perhaps she should just start replicating items just to fill the space, but somehow that thought did not provide any satisfaction. Perhaps--

Her inner reverie was cut short by the sound of a voice out in sickbay. An inquiry? As if the place would be empty. Absurd.

T'Mara pulled her eyes away from the object that was currently filling her mind with a measure of frustration to see just who had intruded into her ongoing struggles with decorating. "How may I assist you?" She asked in a droll tone, allowing her voice to precede her arrival. A large human male...a Marine stood holding his arm in a manner that denoted injury. She stepped close enough and tilted her head slightly in silent inquiry.

Matewa's smile broadened as the Vulcan doctor approached. His curiosity had always been piqued by the unusual, particularly Vulcans, but today, the doctor's presence was especially dazzling. He was silently thankful that it wasn't a clumsy nurse or a lackluster Emergency Medical Hologram attending to him.

"Ah, Doctor," he said with a chuckle, "it seems I've managed a minor scratch." As he spoke, a single drop of blood made its descent onto the carpet. Glancing at his wound, Matewa straightened up, feeling the need to stand a little taller.

T'Mara watched as the Marine NCO dripped on her carpeting. Whoever had decided to put such a flooring in a medical bay had obviously never worked in one. She would have to discuss changing this out with Zhevou at her earliest convenience.

"Indeed." She finally responded, motioning for him to go over to one of the biobeds. "Have a seat, Gunny." T'Mara grabbed a lac box and brought it over to the biobed. She sprayed her hands in antiseptic and rubbed them vigorously together to ensure even distribution. "Please remove your other hand. I need to inspect the injury."

"Yes, ma'am," Matewa declared, sporting a grin as he plopped down on a bed. He watched the doctor, who was busy lathering up her hands, and Matewa's gaze couldn't resist a detour—he was a connoisseur of fine figures, after all. When she looked back, his eyes meandered back to meet hers—those hazel gems. Shifting his good hand away from the injured one, he presented the latter to the doctor. "It's just a scratch," he offered, playing down the drama with his layman's diagnosis.

"7.5 cm full thickness laceration to volar aspect of the right hand." T'Mara reached out and began to probe the wound with her hands. "Please wiggles your fingers." She 'commanded,' and then watched the wound while the visible sinew moved. "None of the tendons or muscles appear to be damaged...you also have sustained a burn to your forearm...It appears to be second degree, 9 cm x 6 cm. These are not minor scratches, Gunny. It is fortuitous that you reported to sickbay." Drawer were opened and T'Mara crouched to pull out the desired items from the drawer in question. "How did you sustain these injuries?"

Matewa grimaced as the medic poked at his injury without a hint of gentleness. He obediently wiggled his fingers upon command and listened to her rundown of his wounds. "You see, it's quite the tale," he began, scratching his neck sheepishly with his uninjured hand. "I was lending a hand to Ruf—ah, Chief Dulay, that is, in the shuttlebay. He was tinkering with a forcefield emitter on the bay doors. I told him, 'Chief, you ought to leave this to the pros, call in your crew, call engineering' but did he listen? No way!" Matewa flung his arms wide to emphasise his point.

"He insists on dragging me into it, knowing full well I can't turn down a friend in need," he laughed. "So there we were, yanking out a dodgy power coupling when—KABOOM!" The sound of Matewa's booming voice likely reached the far corners of sickbay and beyond. "A wee explosion, just a tickle really, like a Breen disruptor on a low setting," he gestured with a wiggle of his fingers. "But hey, it got me an appointment with you, so it's not all bad," he said with a cheeky grin.

"Your deduction as to what is 'not all bad,' is rather...interesting." T'Mara considered his words, trying to parse together--logically speaking--what had happened in the shuttlebay. So, unauthorized repairs on a device he was not qualified to work on. She was already beginning to 'write' out her H&P in her head as she sprayed the wounds with an aerosolized disinfectant. "I will have to suture your laceration closed, and I will use the dermal regenerator on your burns. Once you leave you will supplied an ointment to apply which will reduce scarring." Her gaze shifted from his hand to his face. "You were centimeters away from sustaining complex tendon damage of your hand. I am a competent surgeon, but that would have sent you back to the nearest starbase for advanced orthopedic surgical intervention. You have to be smarter than this, Gunny."

"Some people find scars sexy." Matewa quipped, never one to dwell on the serious side of life, unlike his Vulcan-esque doctor. Catching the raised eyebrow his remark earned, he quickly gave in. "Alright, alright, I'll use the ointment," he laughed, listening to her lecture on the gravity of his wound. "It's hard to resist that little troublemaker, and we're usually on the ball. Who expects tech to go boom, right?" He shrugged nonchalantly. "Guess I'll leave the risky business to the pros from now on."

"Perhaps. In my experience people do not find imperfection to be a preferred state. Use the scar ointment or do not." She raised a brow at his reply regarding technology going boom... such a lackadaisical attitude was concerning, but that was his direct report's problem, not hers. What was it her mentor, Becker, used to say? Ah yes, "People are gonna people." T'Mara thought it was an utterly illogical statement at the time, but after years of treating patients...

"It is not my desire to deprive you of your risky business, Gunny. You have a brain; It came up normal on the scans. Perhaps utilize it a little more?" T'Mara raised a brow in a pointed manner, but it was not said in censure. Quite the opposite in fact.

"I will Doc, thank you." Matewa pressed his palms together, nodding solemnly to show his gratitude. "I'm in your debt. Should you ever need a favor—say, someone to mysteriously disappear—just give me a holler," he said with a mischievous grin and a cheeky wink.

"I will give your offer all due consideration. Currently I do not require anyone to disappear...but, we live in a fast-paced, quickly changing environment." T'Mara replied placidly, although inwardly she found his offer to be somehow...nice. She had strayed too far in her meditations, obviously.

"Got it," Matewa said with a wink. "I'll be on the lookout for your bat signal," he laughed. He found the doctor quite a catch – easy on the eyes and her scolding somehow left him charmed. Striding out of the sickbay, he had a bounce in his step that wasn't there before.

 

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