AWD #393: Right of Privacy
AWD #392: Right of Privacy
Summary: Dr.'s Forrester & Nadir discuss the current condition of Sgt. Ynyr with Cooper Knox. The discussion is a delicate maneuver between Ynyr's right of privacy and the need to convey the necessary details to adequately relate the nature of the status of the sergeant.
Date: Mon 18/Jul/2016 (OOC Date)
Related Logs:
Ariadne Knox 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.
Thu 02/Feb/2006

Knox has been aboard the ship for about 36 hours and he's already managed to give blood twice and hang out in the ward, helping out where he can. There's some reason he hasn't been able to see Lleu yet but the guy stays close. Steady hands means he can free up the nurses if someone needs a few stitches. He has files on human anatomy. Etc. The rest of the time he hangs out near surgery and plays Go-Fer. It isn't perfect but an extra hand isn't terrible. For the moment he's taking a break and sitting off to the side in an unused wheelchair, sipping on a bottled water. Dressed in scrubs. No rank. Just chillin for the moment.

Carrying a text book with her that she liberated from the stacks in the library, Samtara rushes back into sickbay at a brisk pace, juggling the text book along with a tray with some food she'd snagged from the mess on the last leg of the trip through the ship. Seeing that chaos has not, indeed, managed to spring free from it's confines in marine country and invade medical, she exhales a sigh of audible relief as she carries the tray with her to where Knox is sitting… in a wheel chair. That earns him a blink before she shakes her head and sets the tray beside him. "I need to start a fresh pot of coffee. Do you want some?"

Cooper looks over at Samtara as she approaches with a tray. And the textbook. He just sips while she gets herself settled, then capping the water. There's a low shrug. "Sure, I'll take some coffee if you're buying, Doctor." he makes the assumption that if he isn't being told to move then he's okay where he is. At least the guy is taking a break out of the way.

"One of the crew from the deck fixed my coffee maker a few months back," Sam says as she opens the door to her office and makes the necessary prep to prime the machine, treks back out with the pot to refill it with water then back in again to begin the process. "Paperwork may breed in captivity, but it requires fuel, and coffee is still the fuel of choice," she remarks as she emerges again and tips her head toward the tray. "Please eat, if you haven't, I brought enough, and I can't eat until I've had coffee anyway. Old habits die hard." She glances around then checks the time, "Dr. Forrester will be back in at any moment," she adds. "Have you had a chance to speak with her as yet, regarding the Sergeant?"

"There's an old military axiom that says that the military runs on logisitics and logistics is powered by two things: Tylium and coffee." Knox says it with an easy smile. he then eyes the tray and lifts a brow. Blood sugar. Taking a cookie, he chomps a bite out of it and considers the cookig while shaking his head. "We spoke very very briefly. I got some roughshod details and permissions, but nothing in detail too heavily. I know he was involved in a fight and a note was found on him."

"More than one," Sam replies as she moves one of the stools with wheels over and takes a seat nearby, removing her reading glasses for the moment and looping them through the top button of her uniform coat. "Let me clarify. He's been involved in more than one fight, with the same crewman, actually. I haven't had a chance to determine if there's something specific about Crewman Shackleton that makes the Sergeant so antagonistic, or if it's just .. a target of opportunity mixed with the somewhat abrasive nature of the crewman." She taps the fingertips of one hand against the other, "He's fought, before, but it's only led to a reprimand once. The second or most recent time I think they managed to keep it from being an official reprimand. But the last time.." she pauses and rubs both hands against her face. "I knew that he was fighting, I had a hunch with who after the first time. I thought that if he was mad enough to fight that maybe he could be mad enough to get through the things that are eating at him."

"Briefly? That was a whole ten minutes I could have slept longer," Ariadne appears from the woodworks, now in a fresh set of scrubs. "That was a joke…I'm afraid." She tilts her head to the two with apologetic eyes, but she quickly falls quiet upon realizing Sam is speaking. Her and her brain mug might as well have not parted ways save for a quick shower, one for her, and then later one for it under one of the faucets. She steps back to allow the two some room to communicate without intruding further.

Shackleton. Coop sighs and lets the cookie rest in his lap as he looks away and shakes his head. "Shackleton is Tauran. They lost their whole colony and Taurans don't exactly forgive a slight, let alone a holocaust." he looks back over. "The Marines never quit on me. When it came out what I was, they formed a defensive circle around me, guns pointed out. Shackleton and the Marines don't get along. Several members of the Deck don't. Steering clear of him is a flat-out good idea for any Marine. I couldn't tell you why he kept approaching him, though." With the approach of Ariadne, Coop looks to her and gives a small smile. "Sorry, Doctor. Even if it was a joke." He finally takes a second bite of the cookie, too.

Glancing up as Ariadne appears from the woodwork's, aka medical staff lounge, Sam shakes her head slightly. "I fell asleep in the library while doing research. I'm amazed that the crewman in charge didn't kick me out. I think I was actually snoring," she sounds both rueful and embarrassed at the same time as she turns back toward Coop and nods, slowly. "Hammer. Er, that is. When the only tool that you have is a hammer, all problems begin to look like nails. Lleufer was looking for a fight, is my guess. Instead of picking just someone at random he picked someone who he knew would fight back, and make it look like a legitimate reason to be fighting. Instead of, and this is Ariadne's bailiwick now, finding way to self harm and take punishment for things that he thinks he's done wrong."

"Any work done will be done by Lleufer I assure you that," Dr. Forrester says with a small nod. She shakes her head at Knox. "Please, don't trouble yourself. It's important." She makes no remarks on Lleufer's feelings, their conversations, or anything she's learned from them. Just carefully blends into the background of the conversation. "Which is why he was told he'd be sedated if he got violent. That option is no longer open to him now."

"Yeah, I guess, sir." Knox doesn't look so convinced. "Multiple attempts, it makes sense. But self-harm? Lleu? The guy has had a rough go of things but there's easier ways for a Marine to hurt themselves. Stand up during a firefight, for one. Has he voiced anything about how he thinks he's messed up?" Looking down, he locks the wheels and kicks his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. "See, Doctors, here's the problem with sedating him if he gets violent…" He looks down at his feet. "Marines are trained to be violent. That's what boot camp is all about. It instills the warrior spirit and ethos. When you threaten to sedate him if he gets aggressive, or as you said violent, then you are removing part of who he is. Especially given we are at war." When he looks back up, his eyes go between them. "I sure as hell am not an expert on human psychology or how to treat someone, but that's gotta be important. Keeping him calm is one thing. But if I were told that, I'd take it as a threat. I'd treat it as an all-or-nothing situation. There's no scale of escalation. I'm not saying it's the right choice or the wrong choice, but its worth considering, sir. I wouldn't mind going a few rounds with him in the ring if only just to see how he reacts."

Sam glances up at Ariadne, "I don't know how much of Leu's actual state of mind is open for discussion, and I'm already violating his privacy rights. All of this is a violation. I'm rationalizing by considering this to be not just a personal problem but a personnel problem, a marine problem that needs a marine solution. I believe that he will react favorably to speaking with Coop. I believe that he will potentially trust Coop more than either of us, because neither of us are marines. And we're operating from a handicap in that regard." She scrubs at her face with both hands, again. "Help me define the line so that I can figure out what we can tell Coop," she nods at Knox, "so that he's up to speed entirely."

"Frankly? He's been calm. He's been fine. I realize you are worried for your friend, but that does not make you his doctor. It's rather enlightening that you can presume how he feels right now. And Sam's right. This isn't a conversation we're having." Someone has gotten through that effortless ease. Joke cracking Ariadne has left the building. "I'm going to sit with him, okay?" There's still some gentleness left in her tone. "If you'd like to help him Knox, I suggest you buck up and go see him. He needs you." She turns and heads towards the recovery ward.

Coop listens but doesn't have anything to add until Sam finishes. He just offers, "We've been at war over a year. Not a single one of the Marines are free of PTSD at this point. It's damage control. Lleu and I have been through the wringer. Santos Ridge frakked us all." He shoots his eyes to Samtara. "Tell me you're the same person who drove into that town that you are right now and I'll call you a liar." They all expected to die, along with the dozen and a half kids they were protecting. A blasted-out city, snowstorms, and thousands of Centurions inbound. Coop won a Bronze Cluter there and never looked as nervous as he did on the ground. He then looks to Ariadne and let's her speak her piece. There's no reply, though. He lids his eyes, seeming to have not enjoyed that, then looking back to Samtara, waiting.

Samtara looks toward Ariadne as she speaks, a look that is as much guilt as it is unease remains on her face, though the guilt tends to edge out more than any other expression that is easy to read. For one who prides herself on her inscrutable expressions, Sam doesn't appear to actually be trying at this point to be inscrutable. "No one ever really knows what anyone else is feeling," she agrees in a quiet voice. "People who say 'I know how you feel' are spewing utter crap. No one knows. The emotions that you're evidencing on the surface layer where everyone can see, those are just the top of the list, not the core of any genuine emotional turmoil. We don't 'know', we can only empathize, we can relate similar experiences, we can make logical emotional connections by comparison. But to genuinely know, one would have to share the same exact mind, and that's, mercifully, not possible," Sam says as she shifts a glance toward Knox and meets Coop stare for stare.

"The average rate of cellular decay and replacement dictates that no one is the 'same exact person' they were an hour ago let alone a month ago, a year ago, or so on and so forth. Same person is nothing more than a cultural fallacy that is employed to suggest a constancy that the universe doesn't actually allow. A state of vacuum does not actually imply the lack of movement, as the universe is ever expanding and nothing, absolutely nothing, 'remains the same'. It's just a cultural and social white lie," she rises to her feet to pace a short length away then back again. "That said, which while true is just white noise in and of itself, of course I'm not. None of us are. We're all walking, talking, casualties of this bloody war. A war that is as much a war in our minds as it is on our bodies, in the worlds that we're fighting over, and every square inch of real real estate, as much between our ears as not."

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