Old Gripes
Posted on 19 Apr 2021 @ 9:13pm by Lieutenant Ethan Gunnarsen & Commander Anson Corduke MD
Mission:
M2 - Sanctuary
Location: Infirmary, USS Theseus
Timeline: MD 02 1400
2096 words - 4.2 OF Standard Post Measure
Of course he would have a cluster developing about the time he was set to check in with medical. Ethan had felt the building aura on the flight out to the station, but had ignored it; he hadn't had any headaches since his trip with Christoph, and had attributed the flickers of discomfort to the stress of travel and preparing for a new assignment. Toss in the situation he'd stepped into when first arriving on the Theseus, and he'd figured he just needed a good night's sleep and a morning in the gym to sort through the mental static, and then he could move on. No such luck.
His brow furrowed as the overhead lights haloed slightly whenever he looked up. Fortunately, being on the taller end, it wasn't that out of the ordinary for him to keep his gaze more or less down-cast most times. Granted, as the aura increased, even that would prove ineffective. Hopefully he could get this appointment out of the way in time to make it back to his quarters and take a shot of Hydrocortilene, and hibernate for the rest of the day.
"Shoulda done this on the station with Lark," Ethan muttered as he checked in and was directed to one of the med-bays to wait. At the least, she was good at distracting him in the initial stages. Maybe then the whole command tango would have been sorted out as well before he arrived, rather than trying to make a good impression with arriving at the earliest possible moment.
"Right then," a new voice boomed brightly, walking into the bio suite. An elder man in Science blues walked in a hopped onto the bio-bed next to him. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked. If it seemed out of place to anyone else, it certainly didn't to Doctor Corduke. He almost never took anything seriously unless he had to.
Ethan started, just managing to grab the edge of the bed to keep from toppling into the floor. "What the ..." He studied the man a moment before adding. "You're Doctor Corduke?"
"Yes, but don't tell anyone else," he whispered sarcastically. Grinning the thumped the bed between to the two of them. "So what brings you here, son? How can I help?" he asked brightly. Sarcasm and humor aside, he really was here to help. He'd had the chance to just resign and follow the wife about the Cosmos but he figured, why not do it in style as a Senior Officer. Lord knew Courtney wasn't ascending the ladder anytime soon - if ever. She was happy in her bio lab and he figured, why not be happy in his office.
"I came for a regular check-in," he started, closing his eyes as the light surged around him before fading back to slightly less than tolerable. Ethan massaged the point of pain flaring just before his ear. "But I think I should reschedule." If he left now, he could possibly make it back to his quarters without looking like he was staggering drunk down the corridors.
"Easy there, turbo," Duke said, hopping off the bed as quickly as he'd got on. "You're here, might as well have a look," he smiled. "If nothing else, it saves you another trip." The nearby tray between the bio beds had a tricorder and Duke grabbed it, popping the scanner node out with his thumb so that he had to catch it before it hit the ground and pointed it right at his head. "Whoa! Well, would you look at that?!" he exclaimed.
The quick movements were not helping the situation. Still, Ethan tried to remain polite. “Look at what?”
Duke grinned and turned the node around in his fingers, "It's upside down," he quipped. "Alright. Hold still. This only hurts for a second..." he said as he began scanning. "Now," he said as he drew the scanner down and then slowly back up. "Now's as good a time as any to tell me why you really came to see me today," he said quietly, glancing up from his tricorder knowingly.
“I told you; I came in for my inboards, same as I do every time I start a new assignment.”
"Right, right. Of course. The inbound physical," he said sarcastically. "Good thing you came when you did. It's always so backed up with new crew coming in to get checked out," he deadpanned, looking past him to the completely empty Sick Bay. Silence answered him for a few moments as he focused on his forehead with the scanner, "There's a medical term you've probably never heard of - the RRV," he smirked, "Real Reason for Visit," he clarified, stowing the scanner node. "Patient says 'Hey doc, I'm here for my physical'. Five minutes into that, 'hey doc, I have this problem'. The real reason for the visit," he smiled, now holding out the scanner so he could read it. "I'm guessing your RRV is that little blip there,"
Ethan carefully shook his head. “Migraine. It’s not a new thing, just pops up now and then. I’ve got a hypo back in my room.”
Duke just looked blankly back at him, "Not working is it?"
“It works, they just tend to come back. Had a bad spell of them after my last mission and took a sabbatical of sorts. Spent time with family for a few months and they didn’t come back once. So I re-upped, got the assignment to the Theseus and flew out here to the station with my sister - she’s a science officer on the station - and now it’s back. Just figure it’s stress related this time round. I handle flying better when in the one at the helm.” Ethan offered the last with a wry grin. “I’ve had them off and on since puberty, been checked out multiple times and nothing serious ever comes up. I can usually sense when one is coming on with enough warning to get a replacement if I’m on duty, and I’m never down for more than 30 hours.” Save when a concussion was layered on top of everything, but that was likely obvious.
"They have term for that in the medical field as well," Duke deadpanned again. "The 'it went away and came back with stress' bit," he said, moving the tricorder's reading onto the screen beside the bed. "It's called a diagnosis of convenience. Means it makes sense that it's 'stress' rather than being anything else," he explained as the display came on show a rendering of his brain with a little chart along the side with various levels listed. "Your Psilosynine levels are completely askew," he explained more formally, gesturing to the chart. "Generally you want to see about an even distribution among all of these here. Your other levels are low, but in synch, but Psilosynine here is off the Richter. With levels' that high, it explains why the human parts of your brain are screaming in protest - aka Migraine's."
He'd vaguely been following along with the Doctor's chatter; he'd been tested for numerous things - nothing matched so why not stress? It wasn't until the end that his brain latched on to what he was saying. "Not possible," he stated flatly. "I was born with a non-functioning paracortex, so there's no way I'm even capable of generating Psilosynine." He should know - he'd done research of his own on the matter shortly after the migraines started until his father had taken him to the doctor to explain facts.
Duke once more just looked blankly at the young man. He blinked slowly, "Wow," he said finally. "Well, Doctor Gunnarsen. I'm so sorry I dared to contradict the impossible, with medical facts," he replied sharply, gesturing at the machine. "I'll just toss these here scans and let Captain Callum know that the medical labs are going to be offline for the next thirty-six hours while I conduct a full scale diagnostic of all our systems, from tricorder to bioscanner. Since this reading isn't possible," he offered sarcastically.
Ethan shook his head carefully, confusion evident on his face. “That’s not ...I just meant that I’ve been looked at by doctors since I was a kid. The results were always the same; non-functioning paracortex, no Psilosynine production.”
"Well, I hate to break it to you kid. But neither of those is the case," Duke said, gesturing to the screen. He tapped the display and zoomed it in on Ethan's paracortex. At the higher zoom you could actually see the blood moving in and around it and the rest of the space around it. "What you're looking at here is a fully functional paracortex, of the Betazoid variety," he explained. "You'll notice your human variety here," he pointed. "Note how they share space. Textbook presentation," he explained further. "Now, unless your facts say otherwise," he smirked, "Something's not quite right with your Psilosynine production. But, I'm going to go out on a pretty strong limb here and assume since you're under the impression you have no functional paracortex that you're not working with a Counselor on proper therapeutic techniques to manage your Betazoid abilities?"
It was too much to take in. Not so much what the doctor was saying as what it implied. “He lied to me,” he murmured, shaking his head again and earning himself a surge of pain. “Sorry, ah ... no, no counselors. At least, not for that.” His father had been lying to him for years, but why?
"Well, listen, son. I can give you something help dull that pain a bit but the best way to solve this problem is going to be via therapy I'm not qualified to provide," he explained, tapping his temple, "Lieutenant Tarelk, in Counseling is who I'd recommend. She's Vulcan. There is Ensign Davel as well, but I think I'd let Tarelk be the judge of which of them is better qualified."
It made sense, Ethan reasoned. Though, to be honest, he had no idea what it even meant to have abilities of any sort. Did chemical levels even imply there was something there to develop? "I'll go with Tarelk, then." As to drugs, he had the Hydrocortilene back in his quarters, so he'd leave it up to the doctor as to what he wanted to do at that point.
Duke held up a finger and went to the apparatus that loaded the hypos, typed in his commands and came back with one in hand. "Alright. This'll make you immediately woozy, and you're going to feel like your brains running warp five. Takes about fifteen to thirty seconds and then it'll normalize," he explained. "It'll eliminate your headache. Effects should last about seventy-two hours. Trick with it is, your body builds a tolerance to it wicked fast. Best case scenario... half a dozen sprays and it'll be useless to you," he said, holding it up and then pressing it to his neck. "Just stay put and let it work," he said, putting the device away.
The medicine packed a hell of a punch - at least five times stronger than the hypo he used. Though he didn't say as much, Ethan was fairly sure it wasn't something he'd be after all that often, as he preferred his mind clear. "'Kay ..." he murmured, struggling to mentally focus as the drug settled into his system. Within the minute the uneasiness faded away, along with the pain. It was almost enough to make him reconsider, but he pushed that aside. "So ... is the Lieutenant stationed here on the Theseus, or on the station?" Then again, she could be on one of the other ships associated with Obsidian Command. There was no telling as Ethan hadn't had a chance to review whole manifests.
"She's here on the ship," Duke smiled, watching his eyes clinically. "Alright," he said finally, seeing that at least from the outside he was clear. "Take as much time as you need. But I recommend you go and see Lieutenant Tarelk right now. You can find her in the Counseling suite," he said, pointing now to the door in. "Go out that door. Turbolift's to the right down the corridor, Brig's to the left. Now..." he trailed off thoughtfully, ready to explain where he needed go to. "...what I want you to do is, walk straight out that door, and then straight through the one's across the hall," he smiled. "Lieutenant Tarelk. Tall, blonde-haired Vulcan. Can't miss her ..."
