#tw medical procedure

[clownrecess]

(TW FOR MENTIONS OF ABLEISM, INFANTILIZATION, MEDICAL PROCEDURES, AND HOSPITALS)

.

I love when people don't infantilize me, don't question my nonspeaking-ness, etc.

It's really upsetting that those are things that I have to love, and that those are rare things. Doing those things are the bare minimum and they need to be normalized. Treating nonspeaking and nonverbal (and semispeaking/semiverbal, intermittently speaking, etc. But right now I'm talking specifically about nonspeaking/nonverbal because that's what I am) people with basic respect doesnt make you a super special good person deserving of praise. It just means you aren't being ableist in that way.

Unfortunately we do currently live in a society where these things are uncommon though. And so these little bare minimum actions mean a lot to me. A lot.

Yesterday I was in the hospital, and as I was having a procedure done I was asked what my date of birth is. My device was sitting over on a table, because I was getting an MRI (so I couldn't have metal), so I couldn't tell them. The staff member asking the question wasn't confused and aggressive when I didnt say anything back, they continued to look kind and waited for me to respond. Then another staff member told them "Raymond is nonverbal" (I prefer nonspeaking but that was perfectly okay /gen), and they said "Oh, okay!" and then asked for my consent to grab my wrist to read my DOB on my hospital bracelet. I nodded, they said thank you, and then they looked at my bracelet.

That meant a lot to me. I was wearing a face mask, so they didn't know, but I was smiling so big.

I wish more people were like them.

[lacallemojada]

Dr. Carina DeLuca hard at work // Grey’s Anatomy “ Pick Yourself Up”

[loaflovesdoodling]

So, y'know how I always talk about how Ades has these really traumatizing nightmares about being locked in a mental hospital almost every night?? Well, even if the theme does slightly vary between nights, naturally, I thought I'd still describe how they usually go:

(TW: chains, psychiatric ward, gore, angst, trauma)

Somnum Exterreri

Pleiades slowly opened his eyes, everything was blurry and.... sideways? His mind was fuzzy, sounds were muffled, until his vision finally cleared up a bit, but he still didn't have the strength to get up. What the Hell was going on?

He groaned in fatigue and slight aching, when he finally realized the huge trail of golden blood splattered across the ground, coming straight from his head.

The mere sight of the liquid was apparently enough to alarm him, as he, despite his condition, jolted up, now sitting. He placed two of his hands to the side of his cranium, gently rubbing it to explore the source of the pain and bleeding. He exhaled:

"..h..uh..?....h..ow...?.....wh...a...t...?..." his slurred speech sounded out his thoughts.

But before any other questions could come to mind, he was alerted by the steps of two mysterious guards coming towards him. It was then he realized he was in an almost empty cell. The only other things near him were chains and cuffs scattered all across the ground. He didn't know what was going to happen, but, still confused, his mind told him to run. Immediately.

A sense of dread washed over him, as he swiftly got up and tried to make an escape,

One step, two steps, three--

He hit something, someone. A guard held him tight while the other grabbed his hand and sliced the skin bare with an unfamiliar blade. He yelped in pain, but was quickly shut up by a sudden stab in the stomach; he, agasp, could barely manage to stifle whimpers of agony and shock, as the other guard then picked up the sample of blood from his hand with a cotton swab and placed it in a container, before nodding to the other guard and walking away. The latter quickly pushed him back in the cell, making him once again hit his head on the walls, stunning him; they closed the cuffs on his hands, one by one, and wrapped the bigger chain all around his torso, still bleeding from the stab wound. Pleiades was trapped and scared, now chained to the ground, he got up, and was quickly pushed back down. Why was this even happening? His questions were soon answered by the passing of multiple stretches down the corridors. Had he really snapped? Who did he hurt? Where were all the others?? They couldn't possibly have been...

The guard looked down at him in disgust, then said something through the radio device he had in his pocket:

"Yeah, Demigod's locked up. Analyze the blood samples and prepare for lobotomy."

His eyes widened, loud and fast palpitations followed; Ades was terrified. As the guard left the cell, he got back up and pushed his body forward, trying to pry himself free from the fetters and shackles, instead, hurting himself even more. Tears now streaming down his face, he pleaded:

"NO!!!! DON'T LEAVE!!!!! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME HERE!!!!!!! LET ME GO!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

his cries were ignored as he kept on struggling, to no avail.

Pleiades had a sharp intake of air, before coughing out a few sobs and giving in. He bellowed.

[monstersandmaw]

Seeing your Tav's shiny new eye reminded of a dnd/bg3 oc I thought of. He's a doctor (yes, he is dressed in plague doctor garbs) who can summon a nurse and doctor familiars to assist him.

Anyway, one vivid scene I remember having with him is when Tav decides to get the magic eye from Volo. He just goes on a full-on (trying very hard to keep his anger and annoyance under wraps because WHY?!) tirade on how irresponsible it was of Tav to trust Volo, a bard who DREAMT of performing a lobotomy. And then Volo just puts the magic eye in?! No cleaning or disenfection? What if Volo did manage to kill the worm? How would he get it out, hm? Would he leave it in your brain for you contract by another infection? Dig around to attempt to fish it out and very likely causing even more damage? *sigh* Sit down, he'll clean your wound. Nurse, please prepare the materials for the patient.

That was long, sorry for throwing that at you 😅

PLEASE never apologise for dropping by to share OC info dumps and snippets!!! I LOVE it!!

I love the sound of your tired and (justifiably) ranty doctor!!! Thank you so much for sharing and brightening my very drizzly and grey Friday!!

[firemedicdiaz]

It’s over.

It’s finally over.

I’m free.

Had my final appointment at the cancer clinic today.  It was a pelvic exam and colposcopy to make sure that I was all healed up inside after the hysterectomy and that there were no traces of any abnormalities.  I’d been anxious about the appointment for WEEKS.

It wasn’t my surgeon who saw me, it was one of her associates, but she was so kind and understanding and empathetic that I felt good about it going into the procedure. The procedure itself was super un-fun given how one of the symptoms of menopause is vaginal dryness/atrophy.  All the lube in the world didn’t make that speculum go in any easier and it hurt like hell, but once it was in place it was fine.

After a thorough look and feel and a LOT of anxiety on my part, the doctor pronounced me fully healed and fit to return to all activities.  She said that there is no need for them to see me again, that this is it, but that if I have any concerns come up or any questions in the future or issues related to any pelvic health, to give them a call back and they’d take me back on without question.

That said, though, I never need another pelvic exam.  I never need another pap test.  I never need to deal with all of the menstrual bullshit again.  I can bid cancer goodbye and good riddance.

It’s actually, finally over.

[alittlebitbethany]

Warning mention of medical procedure

Today for day 7 of A Very Dolly Christmas Countdown 2023 we have something a little different. I had a medical procedure today and my mum gave me this lovely Holly Hobbie doll to keep me company. After the procedure Mum gave me a polar bear plushie. I named him Stanley. Mum took this photo of Holly, Stanley and I at the hospital today. Rest assured everything went well and I am now resting at home

Image Description: a photo of a woman who is wearing a hospital gown sitting in a hospital bed holding a Hollie Hobbie doll and a polar bear plushie.

[loyaltyfallen]

Got surgery early tomorrow. Removing my gallbladder to prevent another case of pancreatitis. I get to go home the next day, but not sure how I'll feel.

[jinxed-ninjago]

I hate the temptation I just got to write a fanfiction where Plundar has to get a spinal tap.

definitely not because I have medical trauma related to getting a spinal tap because the local hospital thought I had meningitis what are you on about

[gracegrove]

I was in fucking tears in the ob/gym office today. Like full on anxiety panic crying for the procedure I had to have because my fuckin doctor referred me but didn't explain it.

I had to convince the doctor to talk me into staying because she said I could come back a different day and she'd give me meds to take ahead of time because I was so upset... But this appointment already took 6 months to wait for.

It hurt. It fuckin hurt "crampy" my ass. The pain has tears coming down my face.

And now ... Again I have to wait for results and news I don't really want to know about one way or the other.

[ramonaflow]

When they tell you in hospital that you don't need sedation cos it's a painless procedure.

I knew they were lying to me! Don't ever let anyone tell you having an injection in your cervix and parts of your insides removed is painless 😭😭

[clownrecess]

Hey there! My parents both work(ed) in hospitals, one as a nurse who DID bone scans!

This is gonna be a full rundown, so it's a long message! A summary is at the bottom if you need it.

Content includes hospitals, talking about bones, injection discussion and a mention of urine.

A bone scan is a procedure to look for any abnormal changes in your bone. It has some other names - "radionuclide scan" is a common one.

BEFORE THE SCAN

What the scan itself does is pick up radioactivity, so in order for the camera to be able to properly see your bones, you'll have a 'tracer' injection. This is just a bit of liquid, and it'll probably be injected through your hand into your bloodstream.

The radioactive material from this tracer injection will collect in your bones so that the camera can pick it up. It takes a few hours for the tracer to go around your body, so you'll be at the hospital for a while - bring entertainment! You can eat/drink normally both before the injection, and whilst you're waiting for the tracer to get to your bones - in fact, it's encouraged to drink plenty to help the tracer get round your body. You can also take any medications without it impacting the scan.

The injection itself may hurt, but you won't feel the tracer going round your body at all.

THE SCAN ITSELF

You'll likely be lying down on a bed for it. The bed will then be slid into the camera equipment (or the camera slid over the bed). Below is a photo:

[Image ID: an older -looking person lying on a hospital bed. Surrounding the bed they're on are two large white cuboid-looking things, connected to a larger grey-white piece of equipment that holds the cuboids in place. A large pipe connects this setup to a TV, which displays the information gathered by the camera. End ID]

The cuboids (3d rectangles) in the above photo are the camera. It's not a camera in the traditional sense - it doesn't take photos like your phone does. Instead, it sends signals through your body that are blocked/absorbed by your bones (due to the tracer), allowing for a scan similar to an X-ray to be produced. This is a completely painless and easy procedure - all you do is sit/lie there!

And then you're done! You did it!

AFTER THE SCAN

The tracer you were injected with will naturally pass without damaging you. It is radioactive, but the amount of radiation is incredibly small and would only be considered potentially harmful if you get a lot of tracer injections in a shorter time frame.

SUMMARY/THINGS TO NOTE:

-You'll be at the hospital for a good 3-4 hours, so prepare accordingly

-The first step is an injection of tracer into your bloodstream, which may hurt during the injection, but not afterwards

-You can eat and drink and take medication as normal. It's usually encouraged to drink more after the tracer injection, to help it get around the body easily.

-Once the tracer has gotten to your bones, you'll have the scan. This involves lying on a bed as a large piece of equipment passes over your body. It's a painless procedure and will probably take around half an hour.

-You should probably go to the bathroom just before the scan to prevent discomfort*

*Extra note: You may potentially be told to use a specific bathroom, as there's a small chance of radiation being in your urine. This varies depending on the hospital though, as it's a very small amount of radiation.

If you have any questions or want things worded differently, feel free to message me!

Thank you ^^ if its okay, I've posted this in case anyone else needs it. If youd prefer I dont post it, I'll delete it ^^ /gen

[tanushakyrano]

febuwhump day 10: difficulty breathing

couple things about this one! firstly it follows on from day 3 (but makes sense on its own i think). second, heed the warnings!!!! i go into detail about medical procedures so just be aware of that

characters: Scott, Virgil

additional warnings: injury, medical procedures, needles

Virgil’s out cold again.

Scott’s legs burn as he climbs the slope of the ramp up to Two’s cargo bay. The medical bed that’s built into the wall slides out as he approaches - no doubt John’s watching from afar, trying to help in every way he can. The bay door clicks shut behind him as he lies Virgil down on the bed.

“John, can you fly us to the nearest hospital?”

“Already set a course.” As always, John’s three steps ahead of him. He knows that Scott needs to monitor Virgil, that he’s in critical condition, and leaving him even for a few minutes could be a death sentence.

Or maybe he just knows that Scott would never willingly leave his brother’s side. Either way, he’s never been more grateful to know that John’s got his back.

With Two’s superior onboard equipment, he can make a much more detailed assessment of Virgil’s condition. His brother’s laboured breathing has morphed into a terrifying wheezing, and Scott’s desperately, naively hoping that it isn’t a symptom of what he thinks it is. He’s not stupid, of course - he’s a trained paramedic, with the knowledge and the skill to make a diagnosis based on the symptoms a patient is displaying - but it’s Virgil, which makes this whole thing a thousand times worse, so he uses the scanner to make sure because there’s still a chance - however slim - that he’s imagining this entirely.

The scanner’s interface flashes with the results.

Tension pneumothorax.

Scott cannot wait for the doctors to treat him. His brother’s lips are beginning to tinge blue - a clear sign that he has to do something about this now, because by the time they reach the hospital Virgil could have suffered brain damage. Or worse.

He exchanges his heavy-duty gloves for a pair of latex gloves; they’re very much not in a completely sterile environment, but it’s all the preparation he has time for and it’s better than nothing. His helmet provides the barrier a surgical mask does - maybe an even better one, seeing as he’s breathing the oxygen supply of his suit right now rather than the cargo bay’s. Virgil’s baldric is easily unfastened and cast aside. The fabric scissors that Brains designed exactly for situations like these cut through his suit with ease.

The 16-gauge needle is somewhere in one of the drawers built into the wall. Scott rifles through the various sizes for a second before pulling out the one he needs, then hunts down a small chest tube. The antiseptic solution that he retrieves last is used to prepare the area.

Scott can’t be emotional about this. This is an emergency procedure, and the slightest error could do infinitely more damage than withholding care entirely could. It is just him and his patient. Someone who needs his help. He takes a second to steady himself - only a second, he doesn’t have time for more than that - and begins.

A tension pneumothorax means that there is air trapped between the patient’s lung and chest wall - in this case, most likely caused by the fractured ribs. The lungs cannot inflate fully, stopping adequate levels of oxygen from circulating, which means that Scott is going to have to get rid of the air pocket that’s been created. It’s a procedure called a thoracostomy, an emergency one in this case, and it can be fucking terrifying to perform unless the medical professional knows what they’re doing. Luckily, this isn’t Scott’s first rodeo.

There are a few different variations in the procedure, based on the condition of the patient and the severity of the pneumothorax. In this case he needs to insert a chest tube after the initial decompression.

First, identify the second intercostal. Scott counts the ribs, measuring the spacing with his fingers to make absolutely certain that he has identified the correct area. If he gets this wrong, he could be stabbing directly into Virgil’s heart.

Second, insert the needle to decompress the pneumothorax. He positions it and pushes it in about an inch; the sudden decrease in resistance indicates he’s got the right area. Blood bubbles up from the puncture.

Finally, insert the chest tube as quickly as possible to help drain the air and allow the lung to expand. This is Scott’s least favourite part of the procedure. Sticking a tube into someone’s torso is never something he’s been comfortable with. But it’s necessary.

When it’s over he closes his eyes in relief, hands gripping the edge of the medical bed as his body sags. Virgil isn’t out of the woods yet - not even close - but his breathing is back to normal, finally. The thoracostomy worked.

As if on cue, the sound of Two’s engines changes in cadence, indicating their arrival at the hospital. There’s a light thud as she sets down, and then there’s a whirring as the compartment is lowered and the cargo bay door opens and doctors swarm the place. He’s pushed to the side as the doctors begin their work. For once, Scott doesn’t mind. 

He’s just glad that his brother is still alive.

[modern-day-kleavor]

Selfie with my latest work!! :333 I can't actually show my work because I'll get flagged, so you just get the legs haha

[ghoulofatook]

Angle of Approach - an Arcane/The Expanse Au - part one

Dedicated to, @of-the-argonath because they are 🎵 SIMPLY THE BEST 🎵 Tag List: @angxlictexrs @insomniac-silco-maniac

Silco in space x female medtech reader. You do not need to have seen/read The Expanse for this fic to make sense, IT'S SILCO IN SPACE! . This AU features Arcane characters blended into the The Expanse Universe (of course they are all belters). IT'S SILCO IN SPACE! ✨️

TW: Silco is a jerk, power imbalance, power dynamics, humiliation, exposure, drug use, medical procedures, syringes, drug administration.

Angle of Approach

The sublime vision of space stretches all around the tiny ship, making it seem like nothing more than an inconsequential grain of sand in the grand scheme of the endless pool of stars. Brilliant gaseous nebulas and brightly twinkling distant suns watch over the little vessel as it makes its way past, not unlike a lone ant crawling through the desolate and inhospitable desert.

A gentle orange light slowly begins to glow, dim and faint, like the first breath of a sunrise, through one tiny window.

“Good morning, the time is zero four hundred hours Earth Standard Time” You hear the serene female AI voice as it gently beckons you awake.

“We are on approach to our destination, Ceres Station. Estimated time of arrival, three days and seven hours.” The state of the art artificial intelligence m0113 adds helpfully.

Stirring from your slumber, you lay there in place with your eyes still sealed closed for a moment, breathing slowly and deeply.

You bend a heavy arm up to wipe your face and it creaks at the elbow and shoulder joints, long left unused while your body lay motionless, carefully preserved and monitored within in your stasis pod for the last six months while you slept, undreaming.

Your eyes feel crusty and dry under your hands but rubbing your face helps you slowly wake up, slitting your eyes open to a gentle warm orange glow specifically designed to help your body feel more awake.

You lay there taking a few deep breaths, extending your awareness around your limbs, slowly stretching and testing to be certain that your meat suit was in working order after being on the shelf for so long.

Sitting up was always the tricky part.

You take it as slowly as you can, using your arms to support yourself while pushing gently into an upright position. The vertigo still came hard and fast though and the nausea trailed in, hot on its heels.

You twist over just in time to heave a mouthful of acidic bile over the edge of the cryo pod. Panting with the effort and feeling the burn lacing your throat.

“Please take a moment to gather yourself before attempting to stand up” The AI suggests.

“Thanks.” You rasp dryly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You hear the door of your tiny quarters chime a soft alert that someone was about to enter. The automatic door whooshes gently open and you listen as footsteps curl slowly around the floor behind you.

“Ah, slow to rise I see.” Comes a deep smokey voice from behind you.

“Yes Sir” A flicker of annoyance courses through you that someone would breech the sanctity of your cryo recovery. Everyone knew it was a rough and deeply vulnerable process. It was cultural taboo to greet someone this soon after being thawed.

Your irritation is immediately given away by your quickened heartbeat and spike in cortisol levels displayed on the monitors overhead. So you promptly slip off the monitoring halo from your forehead while trying to keep your skull as still as possible, not willing to set off another vertigo attack.

You sit up a bit more and try to turn your head, painfully slowly. The orange light had slowly brightened during the time you had woken to light the room. More and more clearly, illuminating a tall, lean man before you.

Your bleary eyes clock his rank first, ornate gold wings adorning either side of his suit collar and your brows furrow in trepidation.

“Captain?” You acknowledge, gaze finally slipping up to his face, eyes widening slightly at the shocking scar carved from his lip up over his left eye to the forehead. Where the damaged eye should have been white, it was dark wet black, like a void. The Iris a burning orange ember that almost seemed as though it might be lit from within. It was in sharp contrast to his other undamaged eye, white and cold blue, now watching your reaction closely and slowly narrowing in displeasure.

You steel yourself, disappointed that you let yourself flinch at his disfigurement so obviously, right to his face. Way to impress the new boss.

He turns to pace towards the other side of the room, near your baggage stow and desk area.

“Normally I’d give my crew members more privacy during their reanimation protocols but I’m afraid I’m in need of your professional assistance sooner than intended.”

With your interest now piqued you sit up too quickly and the nausea slams your vision across through a nauseating repetition of planet rocking torture. The world seems to be shaking violently and you hurl another mouthful of bile over the opposite edge of the pod. Body contorting violently with the effort as you heave a few more wretched mouthfuls of burning vomit on to the floor.

“Hmm” he hums in disappointment at your display, striding around, carefully avoiding your most recent deposit as he opens a cupboard near the head of the stasis pod.

“Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo” he pronounces.

“Top of the class” you mumble from where you hunch, frozen in fear of moving your head and setting off another attack.

He was correctly describing your condition, a lucky percentage of spacers enjoyed the side effect as a direct result of cryostasis. Being inanimate for so long caused small calcium carbonate crystals to dislodge from a part of the inner ear and be suspended in the fluid that would normally maintain your equilibrium and balance. So then when you move, the tiny crystals sloshing around causes hell.

“My brother used to suffer from BPPV on defrost” he explains, digging through the thaw kit within. You hear a gentle clink as he loads a vial into an injector.

“Hold still.” You startle slightly at the purring voice suddenly so close to your ear, letting your shoulders go slack to show your compliance. He carefully slides your hair off your neck leaving tingling trails of awareness where the warmth of his fingertips had grazed over the sensitive skin.

Your thoughts on the intrusion are interrupted by a sharp sting as the syringe presses into the skin of your neck and a dose of Phytoprochlorperazine rushes into your system, drawing a cool, grateful exhale from you as it flows across your body in a cool wave.

“Give that a few minutes.” He advises, resting the injector gun carefully back in its cupboard.

“You trying to steal my job?” you jest, hired on as the ships medical technician you barely expected the captain himself to be administering your medical treatment.

You slowly chance a look up to catch his reaction, catching a momentary small, taught smirk.

“I don’t think I have the correct temperament” He confesses, seeming more like a private joke with himself. Folding his arms behind is back he strides lazily back around the pod.

“Your bedside manner could use some work.” You blurt before you can stop yourself.

His head whips that fiery gaze back on you, eyes narrowing coldly, better reign in your smartass comments.

“Noted, I’ll leave you to your own devices in future.” He quips back, taking a seat at your desk pulling a small box from his inner coat pocket and laying it out before him.

“I need some assistance with this when you’re ready please.” The way he words it is polite but his tone is scathing and you feel it rasp your nerves.

“Copy that, Sir” You acknowledge, swinging your legs slowly over the edge of the bed and trying to stand up in one smooth movement. Despite the medication, it’s too much, too fast. Your vision darkens and your head spins. You feel yourself slipping downwards but it feels dreamlike till you collide with the cold metal floor sheeting.

Blinking a few times in your collapsed heap, you push yourself up, tilting your head to see him, unbothered, watching you with an impatient scowl. The expression implied wordlessly that you were inconveniencing him by collapsing so dramatically.

“Did you lie about your qualifications?” He spits, as if you were failing a job interview.

Too bad you were deep in the outer rings now, approaching the Kuiper belt. A bit late to fire you.

“No Sir, I’m just not used to being so rudely awakened.” You jab back in frustration. Headache pulsing through your temples and zinging behind your eyes.

He scowls down, not moving a muscle to help you as you push yourself back up to standing. You take a few heavy steps with stiff legs as blood rushes around your lower limbs in a sensation like pins and needles. You lean your weight heavily on the table across from him with one hand panting slightly with the effort of your exhausted, stiff body.

“Now, what can I do for you today?” You ask in your best customer service voice with matching dead eyed smile.

He shoots you another dark look before his eyes flick down and you follow his gaze to the ornate wooden box, inlaid with shell and brass in a beautiful, complex design. His hands move surprisingly elegantly as his spidery fingers purposefully lift the lid, withdrawing two peculiar small brass contraptions. Your watch inquisitively as he pushes them together with a gentle click of some hidden mechanism before placing down what now looks like it could be a small gun or a strange type of syringe.

You inhale a gasp as he withdraws a glowing purple vial of shimmer and loads it into the back of the contraption, twisting it into place.

Your eyes, wide with shock, flick up to meet him smirking playfully at you.

Shimmer was a highly illegal and heavily regulated substance in the belt. If any was found on the ship it could result in horrible legal consequences and a record that would ground you from legitimate spacer work for life.

“This” he explains, rotating it carefully in his hand as if to display it. “Is the only thing that treats the infection in my eye.” It glows ominously and you suddenly feel like taking this assignment was a huge mistake.

“I need you to use this device, to inject it directly through my pupil, into the vitreous humor.” He explains, holding the device out for you to take.

You stare at it dumbly as it lay in the hand of your captain, as if to spite you. Panic seizes you and your mind races through the potential consequences of this simple request. This could cost you your career as a medical technician if it was to be revealed you’d administered shimmer to any patient, under any circumstances. The UN medical board had a hard no tolerance policy on the substance. Despite it definitely having some medical value under the right circumstances, shimmer had become a horrible street drug, and with its stained reputation it had foregone any chance of reputable use in legitimate medical science.

“Well?” He says calmly, but you feel the urgency of your long hesitation bearing down on you. It wasn’t an option to refuse the captain, who had hand picked you from a selection of candidates for this admittedly lucrative and cushy assignment. If he left a bad review on your file, it would marr your reputation just as badly. You were screwed either way.

He knew it too, the bastard had you perfectly cornered between a rock and a hard place.

Your eyes flick back up to his and they bore into you with the weighty expectation of a man who was used to wielding his command. His field of authority seemed to wash over you, bending you to his will and superior rank.

“Understood, Sir” you whisper hoarsely, reaching slowly for the contraption.

His smirk is deeper this time, wrinkling the edges of his blue eye in victory over your resigned submission.

The only betrayal of your annoyance is a single exhale through your nose as you walk to his side to administer the dose.

“Don’t sulk, it’s entirely unprofessional.” He chides and you shoot him a flash of fiery annoyance that he seems to thrive on receiving.

You flinch when his hand brushes your own suddenly, once again surprising you with his intrusive, gentle touch. You watch carefully as he explains the mechanism within the contraption and how to fire the plunger.

You nod your affirmation and lift the device towards him before he grabs your arm to still you with a pointed look.

“Understood, Sir.” You confirm through gritted teeth.

So he was going to be one of those Captains. Spectacular.

“Continue” he says, leaning back in the chair so his head was tilted back, giving you an easy shot.

The anxiety coursing through you as step in closer to seek out the correct angle of approach is entirely too distracting. You try for a moment before conceding that you need to be even closer to do this properly. Trying to maintain professional conduct and ignore the warmth of his side pressed against you as you finally find the right angle, setting the device in place and pulling the trigger.

The spring loaded syringe delves at speed, deep into his eye and barely half a second later he lurches forward violently, pushing you backwards against the desk in what seem to be throes of violent agony.

Oh no, this can’t be right, you must have done it wrong, your heart is pounding in your chest.

Leaning against the desk knee to knee with the captain, you gawk in blatant awe of his anguish as he writhes, clenching his teeth with his thin lips drawn back in a savage snarl. Like a wolf you think to yourself. Noting how the wayward strands of hair that had dislodged themselves from his rigid, swept back hairstyle, added to his wildness.

Slowly the hard breathing is less and less, and his muscles begrudgingly unwind from their seizing to relax over his bony frame.

With a final sigh he finally leans back into the chair, reaching into his suit for a handkerchief that he uses to dab at the thin trickle of purple liquid that had slid from the injection sight.

He sweeps a look towards you and you suddenly realise your proximity, registering your own discomfort at having both your knees interlocked with his and extract yourself carefully to the other side of the desk before he can regain his composure fully.

“How often…” You trail off as he pockets the handkerchief and sets his spidery hands to work dismantling the savage contraption.

“Once daily if I’m to fend off the progression of the bacteria successfully.” He answers smoothly, sweeping a hand up through his hair, setting it back in place.

“Did I-“

“You did it perfectly, the side effects are quite… dramatic unfortunately but that was not your doing, I assure you.” He waves a hand at you as if to dismiss you.

You’re not sure how to proceed for a moment, but you’re too rattled by the experience to argue the point that this was your quarters. So you dip your head in awkward show of respect and trail through the side entrance to your medical bay, closing the door behind you.

You catch your reflection in the glass of one of the medical storage fridges and your heart drops down into your gut.

Groggy and discombobulated as you were from cryostasis, you’d completely forgotten that you were only wearing a small white crop singlet and white underwear.

Diving towards the cabinet containing the medical gowns you rustled up some decency and pulled one on with shame fuelled haste before flopping, mortified, onto the soft lounge bay built into the side of the room.

Your first day was not going as intended.

✨

—-

Thank you for reading. <3

[defensivewall]

[floraenox]

“ultrasound diagnosis”

Or “what it’s like being a man with a fucked up uterus”

Part 7 of my 2022 expressionist memoir series.