AWD #389: A Meeting of MDs
AWD #389: A Meeting of MDs
Summary: Dr's Forrester & Nadir meet to consult over a mutual patient. Personnel and medical history are reviewed, current events are discussed and a general plan is set in motion.
Date: Fri 15/Jul/2016 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: http://battlestarorion.wikidot.com/broken-things
Ariadne Samtara 
CMO's Office - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
Durable gray, industrial weave, carpeting covers the floor from wall to wall in this small, utilitarian and ruthlessly organized office. The left and right walls are covered in white boards with metal filing cabinets stacked side by side beneath each board, the tops of which serve as additional space along with room for a coffee maker and cleaning supplies. A pair of uncomfortable looking chairs take up the floor space to either side of the door and a heavy desk with a worn looking chair made equally of battered looking metal consume the rest of the space not occupied by shelves. Above the desk is a printed poster listing the periodic table of elements alongside a wall mounted lightbox for inspecting x-rays and other images.
Mon 30/Jan/2006

In the dead of night-the wee hours of the morning, Ariadne can't sleep. Of course not. Nevermind the hours she's been pulling. What's the worst thing to be doing when one has insomnia? Poking around on a terminal, which is exactly what Ari is doing when she receives Sam's memo about Sergeant Lleufer Ynyr. Her face turns ashen and she barely finishes reading it before she's scrambling off. When she enters the sickbay, she relays a message for Captain Amos, then tells the nurse that she forgot one needs to go to Fairfax too. Afteter a brief thanks for the woman's dedication, Ari makes a beeline straight for the CMO's office. She knocks on the door.

Samtara's door is standing open and Sam is seated at her desk with her forehead resting on one hand, the other hand curled around a mug of tea that is gently, fragrantly, steaming upward and lending a faint cinnamon taste to the air. In front of her is a personnel file, a copy of at least as it's stamped COPY every few pages in bold red ink. (Bold, at first, and progressively fainter throughout the depth of the file). The sound of the knock on the door causes Samtara's head to lift from resting on her hand and she waves Ariadne into her office immediately. "You got my memo," relief evident in her voice, making it not a question but a statement that ends with a sigh that also conveys relief.

The look on Ariadne's face is stern and alert, her brow wrinkled from excercising discernment. She grabs the door on her way in and pushes it closed behind her. The woman's hair is swept back into a tie hastily and she is in her scrubs. In her non-be-doored hand she carries a folder, legal pad, and her fingers nudge at the spiral of the pad to find her pen missing. "How are you doing?" She steps forward and sits in one of the torturous chairs, tucking her materials closer to herself.

Sam snags a pen from the top drawer and slides it gently across the desk toward Ariadne, "Feeling like a utter failure and wondering when I'll ever get some decent sleep again without worrying that a friend, who's not just a patient, will find a way to kill himself before we can stop him," she answers in a voice that is quiet but honest. This said she takes a folder from beneath the one she's looking at and slides it to Ari as well, "I made you a complete copy of his personnel file and his medical file so that we have all the same data without having to crib each others notes."

"I'm sorry." Ariadne's expression softens slightly and she leans forward to grab the pen from Sam. "That's a horrible shadow to live with." Her eyes are drawn to the folder and the red rather quickly, tracing it as it slides closer to her. She nods. "Thank you. I would have made you copies of mine, but I hadn't gotten a session with him…" Her eyes shift down slightly and she puts her pad and folder on top so she can grip the stack, pulling it into her lap. "I wanted you to know that I've already contacted Captain Amos and Major Fairfax and told them I would brief them after I've had a chance to speak with you."

"Tea?" Sam asks as she waves one hand toward the pot that's resting on a ceramic tile, steeping and staying warm. "It's not caffeine free, because I'm not sure my brain can operate without caffeine at this point," she admits before she rubs at the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. "It would have been far worse if I hadn't followed my hunch and sent the MP's after him. I have to tell you that I knew that he was walking the edge of something dangerous," she says in a voice that is clear and quiet still. "I've been trying to gently nudge him along for the last few weeks, but I couldn't quite get through to him and I knew that he needed genuine help that I couldn't quite provide. I found him at Charlies on Pireaus and tried again to intervene. He was drinking, which he knows is against his treatment regimen. And I had a theory, a failed theory," she is blunt about her own failures, "that if I could nudge him out of the apathy into anger that maybe it might help somehow. He ended up attempting to assault one of the deck crewman, and I intervened."

Ariadne nods and shifts the paperwork back to Sam's desk. "Apologies." She serves herself some tea and then scoots her chair closer so she can begin to glance through the file. "I couldn't sleep anyways. Might as well make myself competent." She raises the tea to blow on it as she listens to Sam's story. She allows some silence to pass carefully after Sam finishes and then sips her tea. "Has he tried to hurt himself or threatened anything? Has anyone been sent to go through his things??

With a slow nod, Sam reaches into one of the inner pockets of her uniform jacket and withdraws a single piece of folded paper that appears as though it's been handled over and over again, the edges not quite frayed but slightly rounded with handling. She eases it across the desk to Ariadne, "The MP's frisked him, mercifully, and this was among the things they pulled off of him."

The paper has a smudged graphic drawn dark in pencil on one side and by the number of times it has been folded and refolded, Lleu's been carrying it around in his pocket for a while now. It is a circle about 1/4 inch thick with a smaller darkened in circle in the center (the Mithras symbol). On the reverse side is a note he's carefully written out, not yet smudged so it looks fresher.

'I have let you all down. I am deeply ashamed. I feel I have broken my oath's as an Marine and MP. I associated with a Cylon skinjob model eleven whom I may have leaked sensitive information to without my knowledge. I would never betray the Colonial Marine Corps. Never voluntarily. If I have, I have betrayed everything I hold dear. The gods, if any of them are real, would never forgive me. I certainly can not forgive myself. I thought I was an honorable man, a Marine, but I suppose I am not after all. Kick those Cylon frakker's asses for me. For us all. ~ Lleufer Ynyr'

Ariadne reaches with her free hand and draws the piece of paper closer. She looks at the symbol, then to Sam for a moment before she flips the paper over to start reading. Her free hand rises from the paper to cover her mouth as she gently lowers her tea to the desk. "This…" She blinks. "Frak." It is not a word that rolls lightly off of Ariadne's tongue. Her hand lifts from her mouth up to her forehead as she rubs it, her elbow anchored by the desk. "Is this for real or is this delusional?"

Unconsciously mirroring Ariadne's position on her side of the desk, that is - elbow propped, forehead resting on her hand, Sam looks like she's been beaten with the same stick that Ari does. Not enough sleep to much on the plate and a new worry that trumps everything else. "Considering that he fought the MP's because he didn't want to be brought back and his increasing antagonism and fighting, I would say that he's been on a self destructive path for a while now and this was the natural, terminal, evolution. And it's partly my fault." She sighs as she leans back, lifting both hands now to rub at her face briefly. "I spoke with him about cylon projection, asking him to compare his experience with projection against what ever it is the entities on Pireaus use to do that sensory immersion thing they're doing to foist hallucinations on people. I made the mistake of speaking out of turn, about a theory that I have that cylons can use their projection thing as a way to raid their 'targets' for memories as well. Whether they're really doing that, I don't know. But if the projection thing is a way to create a link between the cylon and the human and allow the human to interact with the projection, what's to say that the cylon isn't consciously back-hacking the human for data while distracting the human with something shiny and eye popping. It's only a theory," she stresses this again, "and I know that this was done to Leu by the Naomi Tamsin model. I inadvertently planted the seed that he's betrayed all of us when this was done to him."

"Frak." There's that word. Again. "Well, Petra's going to need to know. Do you know of anyone else aboard who has had projection experiences with a cylon?" Ariadne watches across the desk with a wrinkle of worry. "The last thing we need is this theory wreaking havok on the ship. I've been meaning to talk to you. Every single person who has come to see me thus far is dealing with /serious/ issues. A man tried or has had every intention of taking his own life and that's going to be next to impossible to hide as well as predict what effect it will have on people. Let alone any other kind of panic from theoretical threats," she shakes her head and holds her tea in both hands. "So what's the plan once he's worn off the sedative? Last I checked we didn't have the proper facilities for this kind of thing."

Exhaling a slow breath, and understanding yet again why all those breathing exercises are so useful, "I'll send a memo to the XO, and I'll see about having a word with Knox at his earliest possible convenience," she flips open her notepad and jots down that note immediately. "One of them, damn it all, has to know SOMETHING about how projection affects humans," she doesn't -quite- snarl these words but it's a near thing. Maybe a growl. She tosses the pen aside and shakes her head as well, "We are not putting him in the brig. He hasn't committed a crime. This is an illness, not an episode of domestic terrorism. And the stigma of being thrown in the brig is not one that would be at all helpful to his mental state as well." She rifles through one of the drawers and pulls out a supply list, ok pulls out a thick folder that has many sheets of paper, all of which are organized by ship and item then cross referenced with an extensive index. Lets hear it for OCD. "With the supplies we have on hand, both on the Orion and the Kildare, we can rig an isolation room as a temporary measure. Sedating him, keeping him bound so that he can't harm himself, but at what point, again. does that become a detriment to his mental health instead of just a stop gap measure to ensure that he doesn't self harm. Should we move him to the Kildare?"

"I would suggest no such thing, and I don't want any MPs near him either." Ariadne reaches up to tuck a whisp of hair behind her ear. Then she rests her tea against the edge of Sam's desk. "Right now, we have to protect his body. As for the Kildare, is there room?" She closes her eyes as if loathe to have asked it, though she doesn't take it back. "He'll need a support system. He'll need to know that his fellow Marines don't see him as a traitor to reinforce reality. Wherever that happens, and wherever that happens he's going to need to start prescription treatment immediately. He was already high risk just by the statistics he's been gathering up. War veteran, brain trauma," she ticks off her fingers. "As far as whether we should move him…we might need to, but if we can avoid it, it'd be easier to contain fallout. Having to roll him through the hangar bay sedated or severely distressed? I'd rather avoid that."

"If we aren't using MP's we're going to need to swap in medical staff with the correct training," Sam agrees, nodding slowly as she considers Ariadne's words. "The Kildare has the room, that's its purpose after all. But if we remove him from the Orion it will be all the harder to reintegrate him into his unit, into his social structure, into his own support network, and frankly." She exhales a puff of breath, "Frankly, I don't want anyone else working with him. There are a lot of good doctors. But he doesn't know them. He knows you, he knows me, he knows the medical staff here. We are familiar faces, and that, in and of itself, is a support structure. What do we have on hand that you can prescribe?"

"I agree." Ariadne wasn't going to take away the decision, but she did present a rather biased set of facts in a compelling order. "I think he'll do better with those he knows. As for meds we have on hand we have some mood stabilizers and seratonin reuptake inhibitors. The standard stuff. We have I think one drug that affects norepenephrine. Of course most of those treat anxiety and stress to a certain extent. We don't have stuff for inpatient needs." She picks up the pen lent to her and scribbles a few drug names down on the pad that are safer for mid to longer term use. "Don't need all of them, just in case they have one but not the other. I should probably meet with him first. I'll know more what we're dealing with, but if we could get one of those to have on hand just in case, I'd feel better about how we're treating his organs."

Leaning forward, Sam reads the list (easily) upside down, this being a skill that she'd acquired at some point and continues to find it ridiculously useful as she jots down a copy of the list. "I'll take this list with me and see what I can do to acquire it from outside the ships stores. Odds are, we ought to have more of it on hand anyway. Right now, I'm going to go see if I can talk to the only expert I trust on this matter. Leu is in the recovery ward, he has been sedated and you can bring him up at any time. He's being observed, and he's bound," her mouth presses in a thin line for a moment, a look of bitter regret briefly on her face. "I cannot even begin to adequately convey how much I regret having to do that to him. But, done is done, and we keep moving forward." She exhales a breath and rises to her feet, taking her notes and her copy of the file all tucked together before sliding everything into a messenger pouch which she slings over one shoulder. "I'm heading off ship to Crandall. I should be back by mid day."

"Okay. I will check in with him and also round back to Fairfax and Amos. My plan is only to say that we do not currently have any plans to move him off the ship, that if anyone should need to speak with someone, to please have them come to sickbay." Ariadne nods. "And yes, it's unfortunate, but it was the right thing to do at the time." She stands up as Sam does and gathers all of the materials, the files, notes, and even Lleufer's farewell letter into that blank vanilla folder, sandwiching the other bits so they can't fall out easily or be eavesdropped. "Alright. I'll make sure to let the others know you're out on business and check in on morning rounds." AKA, don't worry, I'll make /sure/ this place keeps turning and all the balls are juggled. "I'll see you mid day," she says before sliding out of Sam's office with paperwork and tea in hand.

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