AWD #471: Good ideas
AWD #471: Good Ideas
Summary: Specialist Zahav and Dr. Nadir discuss some ideas regarding training and the future of medical residency. There's also a discussion about marines, the use of duct tape, and why men spit.
Date: Wed 05/Oct/2016 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: None/current events
Miri Samtara 
Sickbay - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
Serving as the ship's primary care facility, the Medical Center is a rather large, single room structure that has the same load-bearing structures to the walls that the halls do, as well as the same heavy hatch. There is a desk at the entrance staffed by a nurse as well as a small locker for single dose drugs like aspirin. Beds are lined up along each wall with EKG's and hangers for IVs in case of triage. Large cabinets at the rear provide ready access to lifesaving medicines and gear, as well as a ready supply of defibrillators. Not far from the primary entrance is the Chief Medical Officer's office and on the other side is a small hatch to the recovery ward. Towards the rear is a sectioned-off examination area. Opposite the hatch to recovery is a sealed doorway leading down a hallway to the ship's morgue.
Sat 22/Apr/2006

Late in the day, in that weird time near the end of main shift, Specialist Zahav finishes her work early and tries to find Dr. Nadir. She walks briskly and confidently, hands at her sides, trying to stay out of the way of other folks rushing to and fro.

In between runs to and from Piraeus, Nadir has been checking in with medical staff and personnel on the Orion before getting just enough down time to grab a few hours of sleep before heading for the surface again. At present she is on the ship end of the rotation and is standing inside her office, the door open as usual, with a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of pages clipped to a board held in the other. The scent of coffee emanating from her office is usually a key sign that the CMO is in.

Miri knocks gently on the office door. "Doctor Nadir? Do you have a moment?" The medic peers around the edge of the office door.

Glancing up, Sam adjusts the reading glasses slightly and looks above the rims toward the door before she nods, "Specialist Zahav, come on in," she invites with a tip of her head in a nod. "Coffee?" she offers, "I make it pretty strong, but it's a good blend anyway. Help yourself if you care for a cup."

"Oh, hell yes. Always coffee," Miri agrees. She heads into the office, pouring herself a cup. She takes her coffee black and sweet, stirring in a little too much sugar. "So I have a question for you," she says, cradling her cup and taking a seat. "There aren't any medical schools anymore. Not really. But we always need doctors. Has there been any talk of a training program? Maybe an apprenticeship?" She sips her coffee. "I did my first two years of university with the intention of going to med school before the war, but shit on Canceron exploded and I lost my scholarship and enlisted," she explains. "If there's any sort of program like that, I'd be very interested."

"That is a very good question," Sam replies, first, tucking her reading glasses into the front pocket of her uniform jacket before setting the clip board down on her desk and hooking both hands into the front pockets of her trousers. "We have a training program in place to level up, so to speak, the cumulative skill set of our medical personnel. Additional skilled training on equipment, for example, to operate CT scanning equipment, MRI, etcetera. The 'big machines' so to speak, because we're never in a position where we have to many techs on hand. Most of that training is done on the Kildare," she references the hospital ship with a tip of her head in a slow nod. "But actual medical training program to gear up for full medical doctorate status, that hasn't been a topic of conversation yet."

"I think I could do it. And I could learn fast, without taking anything away from my current duties," Miri says, sitting straight and serious. "I've always wanted to be a doctor," she confides. She takes another sip of her coffee. "If you feel I'd be a good candidate for something like this, then please, please consider me."

Carrying her cup of coffee as she moves through the room, Sam lowers into the battered chair that looks older than the ship itself, and sets the coffee cup in the center of her desk - the only space cleared of paper - before she clasps her hands before her, leaning slightly back in the chair as she studies the specialist from across the desk. "As you know, it's a long way between the first two years of study, internship, and actually being a board certified surgeon. Plus, there is a war on, which compromises and compresses a great deal of things. I can't honestly say that there is a pipeline right now for this transition. That said, there should be one, and if there isn't one now, someone needs to be getting that organized. It may require that all likely candidates be shifted to the Kildare for formal training. Such a shift would take you out of the field and frankly, we are desperate for qualified corpsmen in the field with our marine forces. Have you considered the time sink that this would mean for your duties?"

"This is why I proposed more of an apprenticeship. A good chunk of it could happen alongside my duties in sickbay, with book-studying during my off-time," Miri replies. She's thought about this. "But you're the CMO, and what you say goes," she says with a deferential nod. "I was just trying to come up with a solution to both meet a need that I've observed and… my own selfish desires, I admit." She meets Nadir's gaze unflinchingly. "That being said, it was just an idea, sir, and thank you for hearing me out."

"Nonsense. It's not selfish," Nadir replies with a brief, decisive, shake of her head. "Wanting to augment your skill set and knowledge base is both logical and practical. We, the surviving members of the human race, have the total sum of our knowledge contained within our skulls and the surviving libraries that haven't been burned to cinders or re-written by the cylons as yet. Sharing the knowledge that we possess is not just vital, not just reasonable, but is crucial. What is not shared is forgotten. And countless generations of doctors, nurses, midwives, clinicians, therapists, herbalists and so on rely upon those of us who remain among the living to pass on this knowledge."

"But maybe that burden is better passed to someone not already on the front lines. I understand, sir," Miri says, standing up. She does her very best not to look crushed, and very nearly succeeds. "Thank you for your time."

Sam arches a look at the specialist, "You may regret making this very good point, Specialist. Once I figure out how to make it happen, you're going to lose every square inch of personal time or free time that you have left," she reaches for a notepad and a pen, making notes as she speaks. "I'm never one to let a good idea go to waste."

Miri blinks, freezing for a moment. "I don't believe in regret, sir," she says carefully, trying to keep her expression schooled and neutral. Her eyes light up, however, and that is impossible to miss.

Glancing up, Sam offers a small smile, "Good. Those who have no regrets haven't really lived. So. I'll sort it out and get back with you. At the very least, we'll up your skill set and in the doing it will increase the probability of survivial for more of the marines who are under your care in the field."

Miri smiles in return. "At the very least," she agrees. She finishes the coffee and cradles the cup in her hands. "I'm gonna wash this. Is there anything you need, while I'm here?" she asks.

"Not at the moment, no. I'll keep you apprised, however," Sam replies with another tip of her head in a nod. "It would be good if you could coordinate with Captain Ommanney or that new LT," she glances down at her notepad and thumbs through until saying, "ah. Petropoulos, I believe. See if any of the newly assigned marines need a first aid refresher course."

"Petropoulos? Oh, right, absolutely, I can do that," Miri nods. "I'll get the Marines kissing their own booboos before you know it," she says with a little grin.

"Just try to break their habit of using duct tape on wounds, if you would?" Sam asks, almost in a plaintive tone of voice. "And the concept that 'it's just a flesh wound' also should be excised from their collective psyche, if possible."

"Teach them the wonders of film bandages and teach them that their entire body is basically flesh. Got it, sir," Miri nods, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "How about the concept of 'rub some dirt on it'?"

Sam exhales a laugh, a startled sound of amusement, "You mean the theory that they should rub some dirt on it to stop the bleeding? Yes. Lets, do, try to convince them to stop doing that, too. Also, spitting. Don't Spit On Wounds. Why do men, specifically, spit, in general? It's a mystery, specialist. A genuine mystery."

"It is literally the grossest thing a person can do, and I've made some pretty awful abcesses express," Miri agrees, wrinkling her freckled nose. "I'll talk to Petropoulos. Get this going. I think they could all use a smack upside the head anyway."

Sam chuckles, again, and nods as she reaches for the folder on the stack to her left, "Do that. Let me know how hard you have to smack to get through some of those skulls. Believe me, I absolutely respect our marines, they're insanely brave. I would like a little more common sense sprinkled in, just for seasoning." She glances up with a wry smile, "Carry on, specialist. If you need a stick, or something weightier, let me know."

"I'll start the requisition paperwork on the elephant darts, just in case," Miri says with a sly grin as she nods and heads out. She does wash the mug and return it, though, before going off duty. She's just that kind of girl.

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