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Starfleet and their mandatory check-ups...

Posted on Sun Mar 19th, 2017 @ 10:25pm by Lieutenant Commander Eneas Clio & Lieutenant Ian Dodger

Mission: Cardassian Mayhem

Clio was generally not the type to seek out the Chief Medical Officer and report for her mandatory physicals early. She usually waited until she had no choice, but with her recent medical issues on the Katana she'd decided not to take that sort of chance just now. So as soon as she'd left Intelligence Lab 3, she'd headed to sickbay to find out who the new Chief Medical Officer on the Hera was. She'd read something about Doctor Chaparral being reassigned but no mention of who had replaced him... unless she'd just missed it in the onslaught of information and requests that had been plaguing her since the Katana's destruction.

Sickbay was fairly quiet when she arrived, though like all Federation sickbays the lights felt like they were nearly on the stun setting. Why the sickbay lights had to be so bright as to blind some races, she had no idea. But she didn't find much point in complaining about it either, so she pretended to ignore those intensely bright lights as she looked around for some clue as to who she was supposed to be talking to.

"What?" Ian asked as he came out of his office, "You again?" It was a mild attempt at humor; no sharp edges at all, because he remembered the last time Clio had come into his sickbay. On the late starship Katana. Doubtless, she probably felt the destruction of the Katana more keenly than he had. "Seems like I just saw you a few days ago." He added teasingly. In truth, he welcomed seeing a patient, as the number of things needing tweaking aboard the newly-refit Hera comprised a three-page list on his wrist-PaDD, and that list was ever-growing, because Ian was quite particular on how he wanted things to be done.

"That's because you did." Though she generally didn't like doctors, Clio did like Ian and she brightened instantly when she realized he was still going to be her physician. "I'm not sick this time. Just Starfleet and their insistence on new physicals on new assignments. Well..." She paused for a moment, deciding it would be better to be completely truthful. "I do have a headache, but it's not one of the bad ones."

"Ah, the old shuck and jive." Ian said with a soft chuckle. "If not for boarding exams, I would never see 80 percent of the crew." He called up Clio's physicals from the Katana on his wrist PaDD and transferred them to one of the nearby biobeds. "Hopefully, you won't be wearing so many hats on this ship." He wasn't one to be confrontational, but he'd been tempted to give Captain Meowlith a piece of his mind for lumping so many responsibilities on Clio's shoulders... Before finding out that the two were lovers. Not that it made it ok, it at least showed that their previous CO did have a vested interest in her well-being. "Why don't you hop onto this biobed over here and let me take a look at your vitals?"

"Just the one hat here. The one good thing to come out of the Katana blowing up." Clio sat down on the indicated biobed, sliding back as far as she could without lying down.

Ian grimaced as she said that, and pulled a tricorder and scanning peripheral out of one of the cubby-hole niches next to the bed, running baseline scans of Clio and comparing them to her last physical from the Katana. "Things are looking better than they were from your last scan. Blood pressure, neural activity, stress levels seem like they're slightly lower than they were." If only slightly, perhaps it was because of the loss of the ship and the stress of upheaval. "Your headache seems to be stemming from inflammation of the optic nerves... I'm going to guess that they have you reading a whole lot of classified stuff they don't usually pack aboard a ship this old. I can give you a mild analgesic if you'd like."

"You have no idea how much reading I've been doing since I came aboard." Again, Clio found herself somewhat surprised by how quickly Ian was able to diagnose a problem and propose a treatment. She was not, however, surprised to hear that her vital signs hadn't entirely stabilized to their normal levels. "An analgesic would be good. Nothing narcotic though... my shift isn't over yet."

Ian strolled over to a nearby supply cart and pulled out a hypospray, fitted a vial into it and dialed up a dosage. "Mild anti-inflammatory." He replied, pressing it to her deltoid and triggering it with a hiss of compressed air. "Normally I would just suggest a neuropressure technique I learned from the Vulcans, but that involves applying pressure to the big toe, and I just really can't be arsed with asking you to take off your shoes and socks."

Clio chuckled, relaxing a little as the anti-inflammatory started to work. "Perhaps I'll try it myself next time. Are there any red flags on your exam I should be worried about?"

"Well, your body could still use more sleep, but I'm not going to lock you up this time to see that you get it." He shrugged slightly. "This time, at least. In the absence of more sleep, more relaxation time to recuperate your resources. You still have a lot of stress in your body, so I'm again going to suggest something like deep tissue massage, yoga or the like to release it. But these are just suggestions for better quality of life, not requirements. Starfleet doesn't care if you're miserable as long as you get the job done, and by their standards, you're fit for duty. I, however, do care, and will probably nag you about it if I have to."

"I've been trying to learn how to meditate, and I've been sleeping more. I could probably stand to relax a little more though." Clio knew better than to argue with doctors about that, and Ian was right. Starfleet didn't care a bit if its personnel felt like they were dying every day. "I won't force you into nagging me about it."

"That's good." Ian remarked quietly. "I have mild difficulties with adapting to sudden changes of billets. Such things were common during the Dominion war, but in times of relative peace -- If you can call anything peaceful in these times we live in -- it is hard to uproot your life and start all over again. It's good... no, it's comforting to know there are a few people out there who know what you're going through."

Clio nodded slightly. "You're right... that's comforting. I don't sleep well to begin with, but I'm not ready to turn to drugs for that. Last thing I want to do is get dependent on a substance."

"Welllll." Ian said, hiding a smirk behind his hand. "You mentioned trying to learn how to meditate. My ex-wife once gave me a number of Tiburonian guided meditation recordings. They're made with tuning forks and singing bowls and soothing voices... Something I'll admit annoys me more than relaxes me. But perhaps they'll help. If they can't help you achieve a meditative state, perhaps they'll bore you right to sleep. I'll send them to your computer and you can figure out if they're something you enjoy."

"I'd appreciate that, thank you. I'll give that a try when I get home." Clio wasn't sure if such guided meditation would work for her, but it certainly couldn't hurt. "Is there anything else we should discuss?"

"I think that about covers it." Ian responded, quirking his lips and cocking his head with a partial shrug. "I'd like to have you check in again in a month or so to monitor your progress, but that is purely voluntary. I can always activate the bio-monitor in your combadge to check on you, but I prefer not to enact Orwellian measures on my patients."

Clio snorted at him. "I won't push you to that. One complete breakdown is more than enough for a lifetime. I don't intend to repeat that performance." Hopping off the biobed, she grinned a bit. "See you in a month or so then, unless something comes up. Later, doc."

Ian moved aside a little so she could make her exit, nodding and sending the readings the biobed had taken to the central computer to be transcribed into her medical records. "I'm glad. Take care until then, commander. I've sent orders to your quarters' replicator for your prescription refills." She could probably refill them anyway with her clearance, but why make it difficult for her?

"Thanks, appreciate it." With that she was gone as quickly as she'd arrived, leaving Ian to handle his other duties.


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