Marines and Medicals

Posted on Wed May 26th, 2021 @ 10:30am by Lieutenant Lydia Whitlock M.D. & Captain Brenda Sinclair

Mission: A New Legacy
Location: Marine Country // Sickbay
1372 words - 2.7 OF Standard Post Measure

ON

The soft chime of the office door cut into Brenda's concentration. She had been attempting to collate the Company's TOE - Table of Organization and Equipment - for the Ship's XO. Almost everything that had been dropped off had been counted, and re-counted, and while the loading docks were still cluttered, it was at the very least an organized clutter. "Come." She closed the file on her terminal, and looked to see who was wanting her attention.

The doors parted, and her Company clerk, a recently promoted E-5 walked in, frowning at a PADD. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am. Was going over the Company files, and it seems a few medical files got left out of the transfer. I could send a subspace communique, and have them sent in a data packet, but honestly, we're deaing with such a small number, it would actually be easier to just have the Marines in question get checked here."

Refusing to let out a sigh, Brenda did rub her eyes. This transfer was turning out to be a right SNAFU. "I wish shit would just go smoothly." She muttered, more to herself than the Sergeant. "Okay, fine. Who we talking?"

"Uh, PFC's O'Bannon, and Chell, Sergeant Haskins, and... yourself." She held the PADD out.

Taking it, not quite wanting to believe, Brenda skimmed the data. True enough, the four medical records were missing. "Great." Rising to her feet, Brenda headed for the door to her office. "Okay, if anyone needs me, I'll be in Sickbay. If the other three seem... reluctant to get checked, let me know."

Heading for the Turbolift, Brenda tried to recall exactly what deck Sickbay was on. "Deck... S... Sickbay?"

The computer was instantly helpful. "Primary Sickbay is located on Deck 7."

"Thank you. Take me there." It was already turning into a not-fun day. She needed another coffee. "Who the hell designs a ship that is so massive, as to be un-navigable?"

"The Odyssey-class starship was first designed by the Advanced Starship Design Bureau, ASDB. The first elements of the hull were laid down at Utopia Plenitia-"

"That was a rhetorical question." Dear god, even the computer was a pain in the ass. Mercifully, it was a short ride, and Brenda stepped out onto Deck 7. Fortunately, things were well sign-posted here, and she followed the indicators for main Sickbay. Entering through the doors, the marine glanced around for some assistance.

The ship's medical center was buzzing, but even though many of the staff were focused on their own tasks, it was also true they were highly attuned to the sound of the doors opening and any potential incoming injured or ill patients. Of course, they had to be, to be able to spring into action as quickly as needed.

This is why it didn't take long for a nurse to recognize the newcomer and her seeming hesitation. "May I help you, ma'am?"

Smiling at the nurse, Brenda gave a quick nod. "Uh, yes. I recently came aboard, as part of the ship's crew. Only my previous command failed to forward my medical records, so I was advised by the Marine clerk to come down and at least get a current scan on file."

The nurse smiled. "Someone voluntarily coming to Sickbay to ensure their medical records are updated? I think I might faint," she added, pretending for a moment to be lightheaded. More seriously, she replied, "Dr. Whitlock is on duty, and I know she would love to help. Follow me."

Falling into step behind the nurse, Brenda couldn't help a chuckle. "Well, I'd only have someone on my ass about it if I didn't, so it makes sense to get it done and out the way."

As the two approached, Lydia caught the tail end of the conversation. " logical and conscientious about your health? I think we're going to get along just fine," Lydia offered with a smile, coming forward to shake the marine's hand. "Dr. Lydia Whitlock, assistant chief medical officer and counselor. Please, feel free to hop up on the bed and we will get things started. The least I can do is reward your conscientiousness with efficiency," she added with a chuckle. "Before I get to the record reviewing and scanning, let me be one to welcome you to the ship."

Easing herself onto the bed, Brenda gave the doctor a polite smile. "Thank you, doctor. Sorry for this, we had a paper screw-up in the transfer. Got a few missing records, so had to drop by for up-to-date records,"

"There's no need to apologize for taking care of your health and for respecting us enough to want to keep us fully informed," Lydia replied sincerely. "I know in general, relationships between Starfleet Marines and other Starfleet personnel haven't always been smooth, but I want you to know I consider everyone aboard
my charges. The Marines aren't a burden or a waste of my time. I am happy to take care of all of you," she added with a smile, before offering, "Since you mentioned there was a records mixup, is there anything about your medical history I should know?"

"Increased thick-headedness." Brenda offered with a smile. "But seriously, nothing overtly interesting. Increased strain on the joints - that comes with Infantry duty. You'd probably find over-exertion as we're still in the process of getting everything settled."

Reaching for her scanner, Lydia chuckled. "You wouldn't be the first thick headed patient I've treated." A moment later, her scanner was whirring. "I do see some slight wearing in your joints. A certain degree of that is normal with aging, but I believe you're right, at least some of it seems to be from physical strain. Are you experiencing any pain?"

"I mean, aches and the like are fairly common for Infantry Marines. We're marching, hiking with full packs, generally exerting ourselves more than we really should be, but it comes with the job. You get used to it, and don't really start to notice it after awhile."

Brenda's words rang true of course, and Lydia understood no one in Starfleet could be kept in a bubble, especially Marines, the physician in Lydia knew she had to be concerned with the impact of such a lifestyle on everyone. "I understand aches and pains are part of the job, and you can't overreact to any one of them, but as a doctor, I know pain can be an important signal that things are not as they should be. I promise I'm not trying to be dramatic here," Lydia began with a smile, "but are you saying you've had some chronic pain you are simply numb to?"

"Pain also tells us we're still alive." Brenda offered with a grin, but realised she needed to be straight with the woman. Doctors are there to help. "The knee's a bother at times. Field medics can fix a bullet wound, but they are not really trained for repetitive strain wearing on the joints. Coffee helps. Keeps me going."

Whitlock smiled. "A marine cannot live on coffee alone. I have great respect for marine medics, but I agree, some things require a different type of care. Would you be open to considering some physical therapy? Often, strengthening the muscles around joints can reduce pain and increase flexibility. You appear to be in great shape, but perhaps there are some specific exercises to target the sore areas."

Considering it, Brenda had to wonder exactly what she had to lose. "I mean, I'll give anything a try. And I'll try to tone it down on the coffee." Try being the key word. It was becoming a routine. Perhaps, even, a habit.

Lydia smiled. "A willingness to try is worth more than a flat refusal and that's all I ask. In the meantime, I will consult with the physical therapist on staff and send you some exercises to try. The physical therapist may want to see you for a proper assessment first, and if that's the case, I will let you know. For now, however, I am pleased to clear you for duty."

Standing up from the biobed, Brenda offered the doctor a warm smile. "Thank you, I shall make myself available if the need should arise."