SD241910.14 || Joint Log [Part 3] || "Rescue Op"

Posted on 14 Oct 2019 @ 7:52pm by Lieutenant Commander Jacqueline Wallace-Shaw & Lieutenant Talrian Bran & Lieutenant Madalene Sabine

2,451 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Tyr's Hand
Timeline: OOC: This is the final part I'll be sending tonight. <3

Kawolski gave a grim half-smile, "Yes, ma'am, and when you see him you'll laugh at how crazy it sounded that you're dying." Obviously he didn't understand what she meant by "see my husband again". "Okay, I'm about to start. I'm going to give you a general anesthetic and that'll put you to sleep. Then, the first thing I'll need to do is release the pressure before I can track down the main problem and work on fixing that. Ready?"

"If...you say so," was all Jacky said. Everything was already dark, and it was getting cold.

"I want you to count back from one hundred, okay?" he said as he put the hypospray against her neck. "Erickson, I'm going to need some strong light over here, spot and general, can you manage that for me?" He waited for the counselor's vital signs to show she was under. He wished he had more than one pair of glasses so that he could have someone else help monitor her condition while he operated.

Erikson looked around before grabbing and doing a quick make shift flood light. "Good?" Erikson knew basic life saving skills that were taught in the academy. "Yeah....I got you just let me know what you need." Erikson said looking at the counselor before taking a big gulp getting himself settled.

Operated. What a joke. Yes, he was a corpsman and he knew there were ships out there where the corpsman was the only medically trained personnel and this was common. But he never served on one of those ship and was never in this position before. He's assisted surgery before, sure, and he'd paid attention. But to be the one on his own? He still had his doubts, very many of them. He glanced over and saw Cindreth's dark, bloodshot eyes fixed firmly on him. He knew the Betazoid had no choice but to "hear" his thoughts and his self-doubts were adding to the pressure the security officer was feeling and that just added to him.

Fortunately, it seemed the commander was out. He pulled out his laser scapel and put on his glasses. He was going to have to operate while wearing the diagnostic glove so he could keep track of vitals while he worked. "Okay, Commander, here we go," he said activating the scalpel and locating an area opposite where the trauma was located. It would allow the fluids to drain from her cranium but not interfere with the work he had to do.

"Keep the damn plane steady!" he shouted, his own self-doubts and fears turning him harsh. Right now, he didn't even care if he went after the security chief and was shot dead for it. At least then he wouldn't be the Grim Reaper. He moved in again and, took a deep breath to steady his hand, began. First it was just cutting away flap of skin and placing bandages beneath the opening to catch whatever fluid would come out as he worked. Next was drilling through the bone of the skull.

Fluid began gushing out before he was even halfway through with creating the bone patch. It wasn't right...dark, viscious. It was more than just blood and what was blood showed signs of age and wear with thick, globular clots. There was more to it as well. Pinkish gray matter. He finished and put the bone patch next to her head so he would have it when it was time to close up. But he needed to recheck his scans to see if there were more damage to the skull than he anticipated because it seemed there was tearing to the blood brain barrier and possibly to the cerebellum itself.

"I need a damned surgical suite!" he muttered to himself. The scalpel took care of shaving the side of the head she hit, where he needed to operate. He sat up, took a deep breath and looked around. Others were occupied with their own endeavours, keeping them safe or flying the plane. He never felt so alone. So desperate for someone else to be there, to save him from himself. To save her from him!

He caught Bran's eye only briefly and wasn't sure what the security chief thought of him at the moment. He found he didn't care. He found that he was angry and resentful toward any man that could order this! It was above his skillset! His training! His ability! He couldn't!

But, he'd started. Closing his eyes to squeeze the moisture from them and clear his vision, he moved in and set about working.

[Later]

Kawolski was only vaguely aware of what happened in the cargo space of the air transport while he continued working. He'd opened the counselor's skull and was trying to work quickly to patch what he could. Once inside her head, he was finding small bleeds everywhere, most of which were easy to quickly stop but for every one he found, he would find another in a much more difficult location to get to with the limited space and tools he had at his disposal.

While he worked he snapped quick orders to Erickson then would have to stop to explain which tool he actually wanted. Her blood and cerebral fluid stained his hands, drying into a sticky mass that made it easier to grip the tools but also created enough slippery resistance that he was afraid of dropping something.

Through it all he kept one eye attuned to the tricorder screen, set to display her biosignals. The longer he worked the more dismayed he became with her lifesigns kept sliding downward. But, the damage seemed to be getting repaired why was she still declining?

"C'mon," he muttered to himself, trying to find an angle to repair another discovered ruptured vessel. How had she held on for so long with so much pressure building up in her head from all this damage? It would be so easy if he could just cauterize what he saw, but this was the brain. Burning part of it could have definite consequences for her quality of life down the road.

He was about to lean back, finally sealing the vessel he was working on. He got as far as arming sweat from the his forehead with the back of his arm when suddenly the tricorder began giving out a shrill alarm, loud enough to fill the entire cabin.

"What the hell?" Kawolski asked as he stared at the display. Her heart rhthym was failing, her oxygen satuaration dropped from a concerning 85 down to a downright scary 65 in a matter of seconds, but worst of all...her neural pathways were fritzing. That was the best word his mind came up with. He turned back to her and felt he could see the seizures of her cerebrum as small waves crashing into each other. As he watched, a large spurt of dark red blood gushed between lobes, spreading out into the cranial cavity.

Then it came...the sound he hated hearing most of all. The harsh, rattling breath escaping her throat in shuttered gasping. Agonal breathing.

"No!" he said, quickly shifting postion to get a better look. There was so much blood though, so much and it was still coming. Where had it come from? Nothing in his scans or diagnostics indicated such a major bleed. The tricorder alerted that her heart stopped. "No, no, no," he said trying to think. Her brain activity was still seizing but small dark areas were growing, indicating activity was ceasing in larger and larger areas.

"Corticol stimulator," he ordered but was already reaching for it himself. He had it almost to her forehead when he stopped. He couldn't use this on an open brain surgical patient with a large, unknown bleed. He had to get her heart going, oxygen pumping into her system. But, direct heart stimulation would only keep blood pumping from the bleed in the brain. If he didn't get that fixed she'd bleed out.

"I'm going to need blood donors!" he shouted.

"Kawolski," Talrian said, coming over as soon as he heard the alarms. He saw the situation and, though not medically trained, he was also back enough away from the situation to understand what was happening. "Kawolski," he said again when the medic didn't seem to hear him.

"Not now," Kawolski snapped at the Trill. He flipped his bag and unsealed the large pouch. He kept his bag organized after every use so that his equipment where he wanted it every time. He was able to grab the mask and small bag immediately, putting the two together without even looking. This went over her mouth while he sat up on his knees.

"ABC," he muttered again, reminding himself of the basics. Without heart and oxygen, she was as good as dead. He glanced at the monitor. The seizing was almost entire gone, but so was neural activity. Heart, oxygen he side. He shrugged off the hand put on his shoulder, ignoring the insistent droning of his name.

He ordered this and he wouldn't stop him now, not when he was so close to saving her!

The greenstick snapping of the ribs shot through the cargo space as he began the first compressions. Breath came out of her throat in a long, whistling whine. The last of the lungs ability to exchange air. There would be some deep lung air left and that is what he planned to begin circulating, then pulling in more with the breathing mask. "Pump two breaths when I tell you," he said, his shoulders pumping hard to keep the heart pumping.

"Kawolski!" Talrian said, harsher, sterner. "She's gone."

"NO!" Kawolski yelled but closed his eyes. He lost his count. Was he at twenty-six or twenty-five? Dammit! He grabbed the mask and pumped in two breaths. All the while, small spurts of blood continued to pump from the unknown bleed in her open head with each pump of her heart.

Kawolski wasn't going to stop, he could save her! He was so close, he wasn't going to let her just die!

Talrian moved in closer, squatting down, he tried again, pitching his voice low and calm. "Kawolski, she's gone. You did your best but she's-"

"NO!" Kawolski said, feverishly compressing the chest. "I didn't! I didn't do my best! I missed something and I can fix it! She doesn't need to die!"

"Kawolski," Talrian said, hoping it could be the final time. The medic, however, continued to ignore him, continued life saving measure on someone that was dead the moment she was injured, it just took her body too long to catch up. Talrian doubted even immediate intervention could have helped. Maybe it could have, but by the time she was picked up in the plane, it was too late. The medic, however, wasn't about to give up.

Talrian grabbed him, bearhugging him from behind and dragged him up and away. Kawolski began yelling invectives, obscenties directed at Talrian. He kicked out, flailing and managed to get one arm free. Talrian tightened his grip around the younger man's waist to keep pulling him back. At some point in the flailing, Kawolski's elbow jammed into Talrian's side. He grunted, the breath forced from his lungs but he kept his grip.

All the while he tried talking the man down, using low, soothing tones, telling Kawolski he did what he could, but it was enough. She was gone. He couldn't do anything more. But the medic kept struggling, kept fighting to get back to his patient. Eventually Talrian was able to get Bakkar over to help. The larger man gripped the medic, turning him.

Talrian put his hands on Kawolski's shoulders. "You did everything you could, more than I thought could be done. What you did was commendable, but there was too much. She's gone, Petty Officer, she's gone. Let her go with dignity."

Kawolski looked at him, his angry face red and flushed, froth formed on his lips from his fighting to get free and continue saving her. "She can't be dead," he said, staring at the security chief. "She can't be dead!" There was anguish in his wail, so much that Talrian stepped forward and took the medic into his arms, gripping him tight.

He held the medic against him, shushing as the anger cracked and anguish spilled out. Talrian suspected but didn't want to ask if this was the first time the medic was responsible for a patient that couldnt' be saved. He started moving the medic aside, giving him some privacy in his grief. "Move the Commander to the back storage area," Talrian whispered to Bakkar, not wanting Kawolski to hear him. "We'll take her back for proper services." He also wanted an autopsy done, maybe if the medic saw medical proof that his best would never have worked, he would be able to recover from this.

Roman sighed quietly. He hadn't known her for long but he felt grief at her passing. Dying far from medical assistance was one of those facts he had come to accept, even expect for himself, but her? She hadn't belonged out there and he wished there had been more that he could do.

Talrian sat Kawolski next to Cindreth and stayed with him, quietly, for a minute. "You did more than anyone else would have thought possible, she was alive for longer because of your efforts. This isn't your fault," Talrian said.

"No," Kawolski said, glaring at the security chief. "It's yours! If you'd let us take her to the ship when I said so, she'd still be alive! How can anyone be such a cold, heartless, hateful person?" He spit out the last words.

Talrian just glared at him for several long moments. Several answers flew through his head and were about to come pouring out of his lips, but he kept them back. Whatever he had to say wasn't going to help, not now. Later, maybe, but not now. Instead he stood and went back to the co-pilot's chair. "Do we have contact with other crew yet?" he asked the pilot.

In the pilot's seat, Quinn could only grip the controls and grit his teeth. He had heard everything, of course, and it had been anguishing even from the sidelines...but he couldn't stop thinking about what might be happening, or have happened, to his sister as well.

When the chief of security sat down, the pilot spared a slightly bloodshot gaze at him. "I think I have a lock on some, yeah," he said. "But there's a bigger problem..."

=/\= To Be Continued...

 

RSS Feed