[sickbay - McCoy's surgery: open]
As soon as Uhura had alerted her that the away team was beaming back, Chapel had sent a message to M'Benga, knowing that the experienced doctor would be needed. He was trying to get some much-needed rest, after a shift and a half overseeing the sickbay before Chapel took over, but it wouldn't be the first time that either of them forced themselves through exhaustion to save a patient. And that the man who needed their help was the one person who pushed himself further than any of the rest of the medical team combined-
Well, Chapel knew that M'Benga wouldn't complain about having his sleep interrupted.
She also knew that she couldn't wait for him. She transferred McCoy to a bed and began to catalogue his injuries. There were a host of small lacerations on his hands, face and neck. Those, she could safely ignore for the moment. He had a few of the acid burns that his rescuers had been so liberally spotted with, and she directed an assistant to neutralize the chemicals quickly, before they could damage his skin further. His spine was undamaged, thank God, and he had only a mild concussion.
The worst of the trauma was concentrated in his abdomen. Chapel was biting her lip with worry even before she had cut off his shirt and makeshift bandages to see the wounds for herself. The scanners had indicated significant internal hemorrhaging, and she had an idea of what she would find.
"What've we got?" M'Benga asked, striding into the surgery just as Chapel was finishing her initial examination.
Chapel rattled off her findings. "Combination blunt and penetrating trauma to the abdomen. Broken ribs, ruptured spleen." She took a deep breath. "Bruising to the pancreas. It's been autodigesting."
M'Benga whistled through his teeth. "Intestines? Liver?"
"Intact."
"There's that, at least." M'Benga squared his shoulders, making the quick transition from tired, concerned friend to efficient surgeon. "Let's get started."
They worked side by side for hours, closing wounds, repairing tissues, and fighting against the time that McCoy had spent injured and untreated, growing increasingly hypothermic and losing blood all the while.
Finally - finally - they were able to step back from a completely stabilized patient. McCoy would have a long recovery ahead of him, and he would be particularly vulnerable to infections and additional injuries for some time, but he would recover.
Chapel gave in to the impulse to hug M'Benga in relief, right there in the surgery, with their CMO's blood still all over their surgical gowns. She laughed when he hugged her back.
"I'll make sure he's comfortable," M'Benga said. "Why don't you go out and share the good news?"
Chapel nodded, and hurried out of the surgery room into sickbay proper. Just as she'd expected, there was a small crowd of people waiting, all of them turning to look at her with hopeful, frightened faces.
"He'll live," she said. And she grinned so hard her face hurt.
Well, Chapel knew that M'Benga wouldn't complain about having his sleep interrupted.
She also knew that she couldn't wait for him. She transferred McCoy to a bed and began to catalogue his injuries. There were a host of small lacerations on his hands, face and neck. Those, she could safely ignore for the moment. He had a few of the acid burns that his rescuers had been so liberally spotted with, and she directed an assistant to neutralize the chemicals quickly, before they could damage his skin further. His spine was undamaged, thank God, and he had only a mild concussion.
The worst of the trauma was concentrated in his abdomen. Chapel was biting her lip with worry even before she had cut off his shirt and makeshift bandages to see the wounds for herself. The scanners had indicated significant internal hemorrhaging, and she had an idea of what she would find.
"What've we got?" M'Benga asked, striding into the surgery just as Chapel was finishing her initial examination.
Chapel rattled off her findings. "Combination blunt and penetrating trauma to the abdomen. Broken ribs, ruptured spleen." She took a deep breath. "Bruising to the pancreas. It's been autodigesting."
M'Benga whistled through his teeth. "Intestines? Liver?"
"Intact."
"There's that, at least." M'Benga squared his shoulders, making the quick transition from tired, concerned friend to efficient surgeon. "Let's get started."
They worked side by side for hours, closing wounds, repairing tissues, and fighting against the time that McCoy had spent injured and untreated, growing increasingly hypothermic and losing blood all the while.
Finally - finally - they were able to step back from a completely stabilized patient. McCoy would have a long recovery ahead of him, and he would be particularly vulnerable to infections and additional injuries for some time, but he would recover.
Chapel gave in to the impulse to hug M'Benga in relief, right there in the surgery, with their CMO's blood still all over their surgical gowns. She laughed when he hugged her back.
"I'll make sure he's comfortable," M'Benga said. "Why don't you go out and share the good news?"
Chapel nodded, and hurried out of the surgery room into sickbay proper. Just as she'd expected, there was a small crowd of people waiting, all of them turning to look at her with hopeful, frightened faces.
"He'll live," she said. And she grinned so hard her face hurt.