Opportunities 28/35
On Call - Year 3
He’d sworn the day he’d left Atlanta that he'd stop making house calls. After the kitchen table surgery on Jim, McCoy had promised himself that he'd never agree to do such a thing again. He'd send cadets who called him to medical, no matter how they tried to convince him to treat them. And yet, he hadn’t been able to do it.
Despite his resolve, he found it harder than expected to send a kid to the bureaucracy that was the Academy clinic when he could take care of their problem just as efficiently in one-tenth the time. It took only a couple of “slips” - a cut here, a broken bone there - for his fellow cadets to discover that he was a competent and discreet physician. They were even willing to endure his irreverent sarcasm to avail themselves of his services - it was almost like having a concierge physician at their beck and call. Soon, the demands for his services increased exponentially.
Starfleet looked the other way - doctors could treat cadets in their off hours provided they followed up with the appropriate notations in the patient’s official chart. For his part, McCoy found it rather satisfying to have his fellow students rely on him for their care rather than use official channels. The medical issues were typically minor and quick to deal with - he still sent cadets with major issues to the clinic. And, he admitted to himself, it was probably good practice should he end up on a starship where this sort of thing would be the norm. As “payment” for his impromptu medical care, McCoy received certain favors from his erstwhile patients - tickets to concerts, first in line to select his classes, a bottle of bourbon, and even the occasional homecooked meals.
The latest call had come from Gaila - Jim’s off and on girlfriend - on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. McCoy knew he should be taking advantage of the sunny San Francisco day to get outside and do something that involved fresh air. Instead, he was inside his dorm room editing the protocols for his third-year research project. He’d decided to evaluate the pros and cons of using quarantine procedures on a starship to stem the spread of an infectious disease.
“It’s my roommate,” Gaila said, relief evident in her tone when he responded to her hail. “She hurt her ankle playing probe-ball this afternoon and it’s starting to swell.” Her relaxed expression made clear that the injury was more annoying than serious. “If we go to the clinic, we’ll be there all night-“
“Yeah, yeah, I know the story,” McCoy interrupted, with a promise to be there within thirty minutes.
He made it with three minutes to spare. Gaila was waiting for him at the door to her dorm room, drawing him inside and introducing him to a gorgeous brown-skinned woman who sat with her right leg propped on the kitchen table, a cold pack covering her ankle. “Nyota Uhura say hello to Leonard McCoy, cadet, surgeon and all-around good guy.
Uhura’s expression could best be described as pissed off. “Gaila, for God’s sake, I only sprained my ankle. You didn’t have to call a doctor to come all the way over here on his day off.” She shot a glance at McCoy as if daring him to deny the fact.
Gaila didn’t seem the least bit chastised. “Your ankle’s almost the size of a grapefruit. How do you know it isn’t broken?”
“I’ve sprained my ankle before. I know what it feels like and it’s not broken.” Even though Uhura’s words were angry, her voice was light with a melodic quality that McCoy could listen to all day and, despite him natural grumpiness, he found himself smiling.
“You don’t know that,” Gaila replied, looking at McCoy meaningfully for assistance. “And anyway, it’s not going to get better on its own.”
McCoy softly cleared his throat before stepping forward. “As long as I’m here, why don’t I take a quick look at it?”
Uhura leaned her head back and sighed. “Well, I guess since Gaila dragged you all the way over here, I might as well let you see what you can do.” She pointed dramatically at her ankle. “Have at it, Doctor.”
Repressing a smile at the theatrics, he pulled a scanner from his medikit and delicately removed the ice wrap from her leg. The joint was definitely swollen. A quick scan revealed severely strained ligaments but no broken bones, facts he reported to Uhura.
“You did all of the right things,” he assured her. “RICE - rest, ice, compression, elevation - is still the best initial treatment. I can do a little repair work on those ligaments now, but you’ll need to come into the clinic tomorrow - I don’t have the right equipment with me and the treatment works better once the swelling’s gone down.”
He plucked another instrument from his kit, sat in a chair across from Uhura, and gently placed her foot on his thigh. She hissed at the movement, causing him to frown.
“What are you taking for pain?”
“Basic analgesic - what’s available at the cadet store.”
That wouldn’t do the trick. “I’ll leave you with something stronger. Now keep your leg as still as possible.” For a few minutes, he focused entirely on her ankle, making sure the healing beam hit exactly the right spot on her skin and checking the results on his tricorder. Once he was satisfied, he looked up briefly. “So how did this happen?”
“A bunch of us were playing a pickup game of probe-ball. Do you play?”
“Can’t say that I do.” McCoy knew that probe-ball, somewhat of a cross between paint-ball and flag football, was popular with the young cadets. From a medical perspective, he was all in favor of it - the game provided great exercise and was less dangerous than most of the physical activities in which cadets routinely engaged. He didn’t play for the same reason he didn’t play most sports - the risk of injuring his hands wasn’t worth it. In high school, he’d played a little football and soccer because it was a great way to meet the girls. After that, he’d focused on academics and turned to running to stay fit.
Uhura was still talking. “I tripped over a rock or something on the field and landed a bit off. It didn’t hurt, so I didn’t think anything was wrong and kept playing. It was only when I got back here that it started to swell.”
Given that she wasn’t putting up any resistance to his ministrations, McCoy decided not to chastise her for not seeking medical care right away. He checked the tricorder again - he’d done all he could for the time being. He reached for the vial of plasticast and carefully sprayed it over the injured ankle. “This will keep the joint immobile tonight, so you don’t do any further damage.”
Once the sealant was in place, he gave her a long look. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Uhura and Gaila traded glances and his eyes flickered between them. “Might as well tell him,” Gaila finally said.
Uhura pointedly glared at her roommate before turning back to McCoy with something between a tight smile and a frown. “I scraped the back of my thigh. Gaila cleaned and bandaged it,” she added hastily. “Besides, I’ve already taken enough of your time.”
Scrape could indicate anything from a small scratch to deep lacerations that would require suturing. “I’d like to see it - make sure it’s nothing serious.”
For a minute, McCoy thought Uhura was going to argue with him. Instead, she bit her lower lip and, with a huff of indignation, nodded and rose from the chair. It took her only a few seconds to realize that, with a severely sprained ankle, she couldn’t simply stand and show him the damage. With Gaila’s help and his, she was finally able to move to the bed and lie face down, arms crossed and propped on a pillow beneath her.
“Someone obviously paid attention during the first aid course,” McCoy said approvingly as he removed the bandage and checked the wound. It was long - nearly 20 centimeters, jagged, and deep in places. “How’d you do this?” he asked adjusting his scanner.
“I slid to make a catch and scraped it on twigs or rocks or something.”
His main concern was that dirt or debris remained in the wound and would become a source of infection, and he allowed the scanner to linger over the deep punctures. Sure enough, there were still a few tiny specs of dirt, virtually invisible to the naked eye. “You did an excellent job, Gaila. Still, I’d like to clean this again with an antiseptic and then close it.”
After giving Uhura a local anesthetic, he set to work. The cleansing didn’t take long and, within minutes he was sealing the wound. “When you come into the clinic tomorrow, I’ll run a dermal regenerator over this - you won’t even have a scar.” He loaded another hypo. “I’m going to give you a broad spectrum antibiotic because that’s all I have with me. Tomorrow, I’ll switch you to something more specific.”
Uhura groaned into the pillow. “I really made a mess of myself, didn’t I?”
With most patients, this would have been the perfect moment for a smart comeback. For some reason, McCoy couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words to Uhura. “In a day or so, you’ll be good as new.”
“See, Ny, calling him was the right thing to do. By the way, how’s Jim doing?”
McCoy looked up from putting away his instruments. “Fine, I guess.”
“You haven’t seen him today?”
McCoy’s raised an eyebrow. “No, why?"
Gaila shrugged. “Seeing as he got knocked in the head and was out like a light-“
“Whoa, slow down. What do you mean he was out like a light?”
She sighed. “Jim was at the game as well. One of the other players ran head-long into him; he seemed out of it for a few seconds. When he came to, he said he felt okay. A bunch of us told him he should quit and go to medical but, you know Jim, he wouldn’t listen. He played until Uhura got hurt and we decided to call it a day. He said he’d see a doctor.” She gave an apologetic shrug. “We assumed that’d be you.”
“So Jim is knocked unconscious and no one thinks to get him medical attention?”
Gaila seemed to recoil at the growl in his voice. “He said he was fine,” she replied with a tough of defiance, “and he seemed to shake it right off. Heck, he even scored a goal after that.”
“And he did promise to get checked out,” Uhura added.
“And you believed him?” McCoy countered with more disbelief than anger. From their description, it sounded as if Jim had sustained a minor concussion, and it wasn’t common for people to appear perfectly normal after such an incident. But, any period of unconsciousness could indicate more serious injury and even a minor head injury needed medical evaluation. Given Jim’s physician-phobia, McCoy had little confidence that he’d kept his promise in that regard. It was possible that he’d gone to the clinic - he’d check to be sure - but unlikely. Which meant . . . dammit to hell. Suddenly, McCoy was in a hurry to get out of there.
After obtaining a promise from Uhura that she’d report to sickcall the next morning and one from Gaila that she’d make it happen, McCoy quickly took his leave, heading straight for Kirk’s dorm. No one was there. He tried Jim’s personal comm and got no answer. Shit, where was he?
There were times to call in favors and this was one of them. A couple of months ago, he’d quietly treated one of the cadets in the security section for an STD. He placed a quick call. “I need to find Cadet James Kirk right now. I think he may be injured.”
The cadet called back less than a minute later. “He’s in Bridge sim room 3.”
Part 29
He’d sworn the day he’d left Atlanta that he'd stop making house calls. After the kitchen table surgery on Jim, McCoy had promised himself that he'd never agree to do such a thing again. He'd send cadets who called him to medical, no matter how they tried to convince him to treat them. And yet, he hadn’t been able to do it.
Despite his resolve, he found it harder than expected to send a kid to the bureaucracy that was the Academy clinic when he could take care of their problem just as efficiently in one-tenth the time. It took only a couple of “slips” - a cut here, a broken bone there - for his fellow cadets to discover that he was a competent and discreet physician. They were even willing to endure his irreverent sarcasm to avail themselves of his services - it was almost like having a concierge physician at their beck and call. Soon, the demands for his services increased exponentially.
Starfleet looked the other way - doctors could treat cadets in their off hours provided they followed up with the appropriate notations in the patient’s official chart. For his part, McCoy found it rather satisfying to have his fellow students rely on him for their care rather than use official channels. The medical issues were typically minor and quick to deal with - he still sent cadets with major issues to the clinic. And, he admitted to himself, it was probably good practice should he end up on a starship where this sort of thing would be the norm. As “payment” for his impromptu medical care, McCoy received certain favors from his erstwhile patients - tickets to concerts, first in line to select his classes, a bottle of bourbon, and even the occasional homecooked meals.
The latest call had come from Gaila - Jim’s off and on girlfriend - on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. McCoy knew he should be taking advantage of the sunny San Francisco day to get outside and do something that involved fresh air. Instead, he was inside his dorm room editing the protocols for his third-year research project. He’d decided to evaluate the pros and cons of using quarantine procedures on a starship to stem the spread of an infectious disease.
“It’s my roommate,” Gaila said, relief evident in her tone when he responded to her hail. “She hurt her ankle playing probe-ball this afternoon and it’s starting to swell.” Her relaxed expression made clear that the injury was more annoying than serious. “If we go to the clinic, we’ll be there all night-“
“Yeah, yeah, I know the story,” McCoy interrupted, with a promise to be there within thirty minutes.
He made it with three minutes to spare. Gaila was waiting for him at the door to her dorm room, drawing him inside and introducing him to a gorgeous brown-skinned woman who sat with her right leg propped on the kitchen table, a cold pack covering her ankle. “Nyota Uhura say hello to Leonard McCoy, cadet, surgeon and all-around good guy.
Uhura’s expression could best be described as pissed off. “Gaila, for God’s sake, I only sprained my ankle. You didn’t have to call a doctor to come all the way over here on his day off.” She shot a glance at McCoy as if daring him to deny the fact.
Gaila didn’t seem the least bit chastised. “Your ankle’s almost the size of a grapefruit. How do you know it isn’t broken?”
“I’ve sprained my ankle before. I know what it feels like and it’s not broken.” Even though Uhura’s words were angry, her voice was light with a melodic quality that McCoy could listen to all day and, despite him natural grumpiness, he found himself smiling.
“You don’t know that,” Gaila replied, looking at McCoy meaningfully for assistance. “And anyway, it’s not going to get better on its own.”
McCoy softly cleared his throat before stepping forward. “As long as I’m here, why don’t I take a quick look at it?”
Uhura leaned her head back and sighed. “Well, I guess since Gaila dragged you all the way over here, I might as well let you see what you can do.” She pointed dramatically at her ankle. “Have at it, Doctor.”
Repressing a smile at the theatrics, he pulled a scanner from his medikit and delicately removed the ice wrap from her leg. The joint was definitely swollen. A quick scan revealed severely strained ligaments but no broken bones, facts he reported to Uhura.
“You did all of the right things,” he assured her. “RICE - rest, ice, compression, elevation - is still the best initial treatment. I can do a little repair work on those ligaments now, but you’ll need to come into the clinic tomorrow - I don’t have the right equipment with me and the treatment works better once the swelling’s gone down.”
He plucked another instrument from his kit, sat in a chair across from Uhura, and gently placed her foot on his thigh. She hissed at the movement, causing him to frown.
“What are you taking for pain?”
“Basic analgesic - what’s available at the cadet store.”
That wouldn’t do the trick. “I’ll leave you with something stronger. Now keep your leg as still as possible.” For a few minutes, he focused entirely on her ankle, making sure the healing beam hit exactly the right spot on her skin and checking the results on his tricorder. Once he was satisfied, he looked up briefly. “So how did this happen?”
“A bunch of us were playing a pickup game of probe-ball. Do you play?”
“Can’t say that I do.” McCoy knew that probe-ball, somewhat of a cross between paint-ball and flag football, was popular with the young cadets. From a medical perspective, he was all in favor of it - the game provided great exercise and was less dangerous than most of the physical activities in which cadets routinely engaged. He didn’t play for the same reason he didn’t play most sports - the risk of injuring his hands wasn’t worth it. In high school, he’d played a little football and soccer because it was a great way to meet the girls. After that, he’d focused on academics and turned to running to stay fit.
Uhura was still talking. “I tripped over a rock or something on the field and landed a bit off. It didn’t hurt, so I didn’t think anything was wrong and kept playing. It was only when I got back here that it started to swell.”
Given that she wasn’t putting up any resistance to his ministrations, McCoy decided not to chastise her for not seeking medical care right away. He checked the tricorder again - he’d done all he could for the time being. He reached for the vial of plasticast and carefully sprayed it over the injured ankle. “This will keep the joint immobile tonight, so you don’t do any further damage.”
Once the sealant was in place, he gave her a long look. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Uhura and Gaila traded glances and his eyes flickered between them. “Might as well tell him,” Gaila finally said.
Uhura pointedly glared at her roommate before turning back to McCoy with something between a tight smile and a frown. “I scraped the back of my thigh. Gaila cleaned and bandaged it,” she added hastily. “Besides, I’ve already taken enough of your time.”
Scrape could indicate anything from a small scratch to deep lacerations that would require suturing. “I’d like to see it - make sure it’s nothing serious.”
For a minute, McCoy thought Uhura was going to argue with him. Instead, she bit her lower lip and, with a huff of indignation, nodded and rose from the chair. It took her only a few seconds to realize that, with a severely sprained ankle, she couldn’t simply stand and show him the damage. With Gaila’s help and his, she was finally able to move to the bed and lie face down, arms crossed and propped on a pillow beneath her.
“Someone obviously paid attention during the first aid course,” McCoy said approvingly as he removed the bandage and checked the wound. It was long - nearly 20 centimeters, jagged, and deep in places. “How’d you do this?” he asked adjusting his scanner.
“I slid to make a catch and scraped it on twigs or rocks or something.”
His main concern was that dirt or debris remained in the wound and would become a source of infection, and he allowed the scanner to linger over the deep punctures. Sure enough, there were still a few tiny specs of dirt, virtually invisible to the naked eye. “You did an excellent job, Gaila. Still, I’d like to clean this again with an antiseptic and then close it.”
After giving Uhura a local anesthetic, he set to work. The cleansing didn’t take long and, within minutes he was sealing the wound. “When you come into the clinic tomorrow, I’ll run a dermal regenerator over this - you won’t even have a scar.” He loaded another hypo. “I’m going to give you a broad spectrum antibiotic because that’s all I have with me. Tomorrow, I’ll switch you to something more specific.”
Uhura groaned into the pillow. “I really made a mess of myself, didn’t I?”
With most patients, this would have been the perfect moment for a smart comeback. For some reason, McCoy couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words to Uhura. “In a day or so, you’ll be good as new.”
“See, Ny, calling him was the right thing to do. By the way, how’s Jim doing?”
McCoy looked up from putting away his instruments. “Fine, I guess.”
“You haven’t seen him today?”
McCoy’s raised an eyebrow. “No, why?"
Gaila shrugged. “Seeing as he got knocked in the head and was out like a light-“
“Whoa, slow down. What do you mean he was out like a light?”
She sighed. “Jim was at the game as well. One of the other players ran head-long into him; he seemed out of it for a few seconds. When he came to, he said he felt okay. A bunch of us told him he should quit and go to medical but, you know Jim, he wouldn’t listen. He played until Uhura got hurt and we decided to call it a day. He said he’d see a doctor.” She gave an apologetic shrug. “We assumed that’d be you.”
“So Jim is knocked unconscious and no one thinks to get him medical attention?”
Gaila seemed to recoil at the growl in his voice. “He said he was fine,” she replied with a tough of defiance, “and he seemed to shake it right off. Heck, he even scored a goal after that.”
“And he did promise to get checked out,” Uhura added.
“And you believed him?” McCoy countered with more disbelief than anger. From their description, it sounded as if Jim had sustained a minor concussion, and it wasn’t common for people to appear perfectly normal after such an incident. But, any period of unconsciousness could indicate more serious injury and even a minor head injury needed medical evaluation. Given Jim’s physician-phobia, McCoy had little confidence that he’d kept his promise in that regard. It was possible that he’d gone to the clinic - he’d check to be sure - but unlikely. Which meant . . . dammit to hell. Suddenly, McCoy was in a hurry to get out of there.
After obtaining a promise from Uhura that she’d report to sickcall the next morning and one from Gaila that she’d make it happen, McCoy quickly took his leave, heading straight for Kirk’s dorm. No one was there. He tried Jim’s personal comm and got no answer. Shit, where was he?
There were times to call in favors and this was one of them. A couple of months ago, he’d quietly treated one of the cadets in the security section for an STD. He placed a quick call. “I need to find Cadet James Kirk right now. I think he may be injured.”
The cadet called back less than a minute later. “He’s in Bridge sim room 3.”
Part 29