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Head Shy, Chapter 12 (PG)
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Bandersnatch
Posted: 24 April 2010 - 01:01 PM                                    
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Special Forces Agent
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Howdy folks. Here's another piece of the story for you to take a look at. Let me know what you think.

Bander

-----------------------------------------------

Pete stepped into the elevator and pressed the button that would take him to the ICU. As the doors slid closed, he got a glimpse of himself in their mirror-like finish. His posture was rigid and his expression grim. As much as he was looking forward to seeing MacGyver, he was dreading it too. He’d left a very sick man behind the day before, and he was concerned how he’d faired overnight. Compounding his stress even more was the final budget meeting later that day, when he would finally learn what his department’s budget for the year would be.

The elevator gradually slowed and came to a stop, the doors sliding open to liberate its passenger. Pete stepped out into the antiseptic smelling hall, his shoes clicking noisily on the glossy linoleum floor.

“Can I help you, sir?” a nurse behind the central counter asked when he approached.

“Yes, I’m here to see MacGyver.”

The nurse’s polite smile immediately turned empathic. “You must be Mr. Thornton?”

“I’m Pete, yes,” he replied. “Is everything all right?”

The nurse held up her finger for him to wait and picked up the phone. After a brief conversation she hung up, the polite smile back on her face. “You can head down to the dressing rooms and change into some scrubs. Dr. Aspen will meet you in Mr. MacGyver’s room in a few minutes.”

“Dr. Aspen? Ferris isn’t around?”

“Dr. Harper will be in later this afternoon. She had some other business to attend to this morning.”

“Oh,” Pete uttered, slightly disappointed. “All right. Thank you.”

Now what? He thought, heading for the changing room. He selected a pair of scrubs from the piles on the shelf and closed himself in an empty stall. He sat down and began to work the teal material over his pants. Pete smiled as he recalled the look on his friend’s face when he first saw him clad in the oversized garments. He’d never seen anyone go from confusion, to surprise, to amusement as quickly as Mac had the previous morning. Although weak, the younger man had grinned and said it was way too soon to be trying on Halloween costumes.

Smart aleck…I guess Ferris was right – a laugh never hurts. If Mac can keep his sense of humor about him, he might just come through this all right...

The director stood and pulled on the scrub top, his thoughts going back to his visit the night before. MacGyver had been restless, the affects of a high fever and bad headache keeping him from getting any real sleep. The ICU staff did their best to keep him comfortable, but he was exhausted, cranky, and in no mood to be fussed over by anyone.

In an attempt to offer the ailing man some comfort, Dr. Aspen had permitted Pete to remain at his side while he underwent the second infusion of antibiotics. During the hour-long process, they’d talked about everything from sports and music to work and weather. Although he hid it well, Mac’s distress steadily rose. Aspen finally elected to administer a sedative to help him get the rest he so badly needed.

And by the sound of things, today’s not going to be much better… Finished dressing, Pete left the changing stall and made the short journey to Mac’s room. Posted on the door was a sign reading: “PROTECTIVE CLOTHES/MASK/ GLOVES REQUIRED UPON ENTRY.” He collected a mask from the wall dispenser and tied it into place, the paper rough against his nose. Bracing himself for the worst, he quietly let himself into the room.

Pete sensed a change as soon as he stepped through the door. Although he couldn’t put into words, he knew something was different. Something was off. He quickly washed his hands at the sink and pulled on a pair of gloves, anxious to find the cause of his unrest.

“Mac?” Normally his approach and call was enough to rouse the younger man from his doze, but today it got no response at all. MacGyver was asleep, his pale face partially hidden by a clouded oxygen mask. His breathing had become noticeably labored, and his flushed skin shone with perspiration in the dim light.

“Mac…” Pete uttered. He reached under the special cooling blanket and took his hand, the thin gloves doing nothing to hide the intense heat and slight tremor that shook his weakened body. “I’m sorry, kid. I really am.”

“Pete?”

The director cocked his head, unsure if he’d heard his friend speak or not. “MacGyver?”

“Pete. You here?”

“Yeah, Mac. Yeah, I’m here,” he replied. “I’m right here. How’re you doing, kiddo?”

“Sick.” Came the whispered reply, the troubleshooter never opening his eyes.

“Yes, you are. You’re very sick. You have an infection that’s not responding well to medication. But they’re trying something new – something that will help. You just have to hold on a little longer – can you do that?”

“Trying…it’s hard.”

“I know. I’m having a rough time with it too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry I…” Pain flashed across the younger man’s face and several of the monitors gave a warning shriek.

“Hey, hey, take it easy,” Pete soothed. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re sick, that’s all. But you’re going to get better.”

“My head hurts. I’m so tired.”

“Go back to sleep, Mac. It’s the best thing you can do right now, okay?”

MacGyver nodded once and fell silent, claimed by exhaustion once again.

Pete frowned. He felt powerless to help his friend and it frustrated him to no end. “We’ll get you through this MacGyver,” he said, trying to keep his voice from wavering. “You’re going to be all right.”

The door opened and Dr. Aspen breezed into the room. “Good morning, Mr. Thornton,” he greeted, looking just as alert and ready to go as he had at seven o’clock the previous evening.

“Morning, doctor,” Pete said, not bothering to correct the formal greeting. Brock Aspen was a nice enough person, but there was something about him the director just didn’t like. He had an air of cockiness that new doctors flaunted and seasoned ones exuded. His credentials boasted top marks, yet he hardly looked old enough to shave.

Pete supposed he was just being overly critical. After all, Ferris was quite young herself and he had no ill feelings towards her or her ability to do her job. There was just something different between the two doctors that he couldn’t put his finger on.

“I see you’ve discovered our latest set back,” he said, taking a moment to compare the numbers displayed on the monitors to the ones written on the chart.

“What happened exactly?”

“Late last night Mr. MacGyver’s fever abruptly rose. We used medication to bring his temperature down to an acceptable range, but it’s been a constant battle to keep it there ever since.”

“So he’s getting worse.” It wasn’t a question, but the doctor took it as one.

“As expected, yes.” Aspen donned his stethoscope and listened to his patient’s breathing, his brow deepening with concern. “Until the antibiotics start to work, the infection will continue to worsen and spread.”

This was new information. “Spread?”

“Staph has a tendency to move around once it gets in the body. It can hole up in any number of places, such as the lungs, joints, or even the blood stream itself. When such localization occurs, people often develop other issues ranging from simple skin irritations to acute conditions like pneumonia or sepsis.”

“Is Mac?”

Aspen hesitated. “I’m a little concerned with the way his lungs are starting to sound, but where he’s already 24 hours into treatment, I’m fairly confident that it won’t progress much further than it has.”

The young doctor’s assurance didn’t make Pete feel any better. “He said he has a headache.”

“He was awake?” Aspen seemed surprised. “The medication he’s on should be controlling the worst of his pain. Since his surgical incision is where the infection originated, it’s understandable that it would be sensitive.”

“I just wish there was something more I could do to help him…” Pete muttered, feeling as though his hands were tied.

“Rest is the best thing for him right now, and it’s something he can’t do efficiently with someone anxiously hanging over him.”

Pete raised an eyebrow. Subtly isn’t a word in your vocabulary, is it, young man? Aspen was right, of course, but it was certainly no way to tell a concerned friend that they needed to leave. All at once, he knew what it was he didn’t like about the doctor standing across from him.

He gave Mac’s arm a final pat. “I’ve got to go, MacGyver. Duty calls and the big boss is waiting. Get some sleep, and I’ll be back to see you tonight.” He turned to leave.

“If we clear it.”

Pete felt his face flush with anger, but he held his tongue. He made it all the way to the door before turning back, unable to let the brash young man have the last word. “You did real good in college, didn’t you?”

“I carried a 4.0 average in every class.” Aspen beamed. “Why do you ask?”

“Because for someone who knows so much about the human body, you know nothing about people.” Feeling better for having spoken his mind, Pete pushed open the door and left.

*

Ferris looked up from her pile of paperwork when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. On the other side of the room, MacGyver shifted weakly beneath the cooling blanket. She stood and went to his side, glancing at the monitors as she went.

“Easy sweetie,” she soothed, the young man groaning when she rested her gloved hand against his face. “You’re just burning up, aren’t you?” She retrieved a cloth from its dish of water on the nightstand and passed it across his skin, the sharp difference in temperature making him jump.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered, trying to move away from her touch. “Sorry…”

“You’re okay, Mac,” Ferris said, wondering what twisted images his fevered mind was showing him. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I couldn’t…I’m sorry…”

“Shh…sleep.”

“I’m sorry…I’m just…so sorry…mom…”

Mom…The single word made her blood run cold. Pete had filled her in on MacGyver’s family history when she was collecting information to help diagnose his initial problem. She’d been shaken to hear how his parents died, and how he’d never forgiven himself for not being there for his mother.

“Mom…sorry…”

“Shh, Mac, it’s all right.” She reached beneath the cooling blanket and took his hand, his shaking fingers closing weakly around her own. “It’s not your fault, okay? It’s not your fault.”

She watched as he struggled against the unseen demons, his expression an open window to his pain. Passing her thumb across his knuckles, she spoke quietly, encouraging him to calm down and go to sleep. After several minutes, his eyes partially opened and he looked at her with glassy, blurred vision.

“Mac?” Ferris asked, not sure if he was seeing her, his mother, or anything at all.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t…I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I understand. It wasn’t your fault.” Her words seemed to be hitting home as she felt him start to relax. “I want you to go back to sleep now. You’re sick and you need to rest. Everything’s going to be fine.”

He pulled in a labored breath of air and shut his eyes, his delirium eased for the moment.

Ferris wiped the last of the sweat from his face and neck before returning to her seat. She sighed deeply, having forgotten how draining the ICU could be. The ward staff were specially trained to deal with the emotional roller coaster that came with working among the critically ill. Although technically out of her league, she felt obligated to stick by this particular patient, both as a fellow Foundation coworker and a newfound friend.

The door opened and admitted Grace Miller, one of the ICU’s veteran physicians. “You are still here,” she said incredulously, going to the sink to wash her hands. “It’s so late, I didn’t believe the front desk when they told me you were. Didn’t Franklin say you turned into a pumpkin after nine?”

Ferris smiled beneath her mask. “I do occasionally stay out after dark.” She was glad to see the older woman on duty, particularly after Pete told her about the run in he’d had with Brock Aspen earlier that morning. “MacGyver’s had a pretty rough day. I thought he could use a little extra support.”

“Looks like he’s still having a rough time,” Miller replied, settling her stethoscope into her ears. “How long has his breathing been this labored?”

“Most of the day. According to his chart, he’s been slowly deteriorating since his fever spiked about 24 hours ago.”

“Have they done any x-rays?”

“No – Aspen hasn’t order any.”

Miller frowned, her attention on the sounds coming through her stethoscope. “It probably wouldn’t hurt to do a chest series,” she said a moment later. “Where he’s fighting staph, there’s a chance he could be in the early stages of pneumonia.” The doctor went back to her exam. “How’s his head doing?”

“It’s hard to say. Pete told me he woke for a short period this morning and said his head hurt. There’s still a lot of swelling around the incision, but there’s been no sign of drainage. I spoke with Franklin and he scheduled a MRI for tomorrow in case there’s no improvement overnight.”

“Let me guess: Brock doesn’t agree.”

“He feels the antibiotics will take care of everything if given enough time.”

The seasoned doctor shook her head. “Mr. Aspen needs to put down his clinical research and learn to listen to what his gut is telling. Antibiotics can’t fight an infection effectively if the source isn’t dealt with first. Does Franklin think he might be starting to abscess?”

“Or that a bone fragment got left behind and is causing irritation. The pain could very well be from the infection, but he wants to be sure.”

“Poor man,” Miller uttered, giving MacGyver’s arm a comforting pat. “Do you have his file?”

“I do.”

The older woman took the manila folder and fanned it open, looking over the past few days’ worth of records. “So he’s handling the Vancomycin okay?”

“Seems to be so far. The side effects are unpleasant and he’s got some localized irritation at the infusion site, but he hasn’t complained.”

“Well, we should know within the next day or so if it’s going…”

The room abruptly filled with the piercing shriek of machinery as MacGyver began to seize.

Uttering a curse, Ferris flew across the room with the other doctor close behind. “Let’s get him on his side.”

“I thought he was on an anticonvulsant?” Miller asked, removing the cooling blanket and helping to shift the shuddering man onto his left side.

“He is,” she replied, the memory of the convulsion he’d had in her office suddenly fresh in her mind. “He’s either starting to swell or it’s febrile.”

The door swung open and several nurses rushed in, responding to the screaming alarms.

“I need 4mg of lorazepam!” Ferris called over the noise.

The seizure terminated within seconds of the injection, and MacGyver fell still. The team of nurses went to work returning him to his back, clearing his airway, and sorting the tangled web of leads and lines.

“Put a call into radiology,” Ferris said, turning to the nearest nurse. “Let them know we’ll be bringing him down for an MRI as soon as he’s stable enough to move.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead with her wrist, and looked at the array of monitors surrounding the bed. Mac’s numbers were all off, but it was the nearly 106-degree temperature that concerned her the most. Even if it hadn’t been the cause of his seizure, it was still high enough to pose risks, especially if they discovered he required more surgery.

“We need start getting him cooled down,” she began, the group of nurses waiting for instruction. “I want him back under the cooling blanket and let’s get some ice packed around him too.” The team immediately set to work and Ferris joined the other doctor who had been doing her own evaluation of the troubleshooter. “How’s he look to you?”

“Very stressed,” Miller replied. “He seems to settling down, but I don’t think it would take much to set him off again.” She paused for a moment, watching as the nurses rearranged the cooling blanket. “You called it right, though. We’ve got to get that fever down some before he can be moved.”

Ferris was glad to have the veteran doctor’s approval. She was normally confident in the decisions she made, but this case was presenting her with a difficult challenge and she welcomed the support.

“If he doesn’t stabilize within fifteen minutes or so, you may want to consider another dose of lorazepam to help him along.”

She nodded in agreement. “I want to keep an extra dose close by anyway in case he seizes again. Until we find out what’s going on, it’s going to be an ever present risk.” Ferris sighed and looked down at her patient, his flushed face etched with pain. She’d discovered early on through Pete and her own observations that MacGyver was a born-fighter. He was determined and clever, always eager to tackle any obstacle put in his path. But now, as she watched him battling an invisible enemy with virtually no weakness, she had to wonder just how far his resolve could carry him before it dried up.

“Grace, I’d like to try to get a hold of Franklin. We may need his services before the night is out. Would you mind staying with Mac for a few minutes?” she asked.

“Not at all,” Miller replied. “Take the time you need.”

“Thanks.” Ferris looked at the vital monitors and frowned at the barely improved numbers they displayed. “Hang in there, MacGyver. I’ll be back,” she promised, and left to make the call.

*



"What's a "MacGyver" and why does it have a convention?" ~ Bart Simpson

 
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MacLovin
Posted: 24 April 2010 - 01:20 PM                                    
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What a nice surprise on a boring an rainy day--an update!

I love your attention to detail. Do you work in the medical field?



 
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Bandersnatch
Posted: 25 April 2010 - 07:02 AM                                    
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Special Forces Agent
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QUOTE (MacLovin @ 25 April 2010 - 09:20 AM)
I love your attention to detail. Do you work in the medical field?

Nope -- I work in retail. I haunt the backroom of a grocery store as a receiver. Not exactly my dream job, but it is *a* job.

I like things to be as close to accurate as possible when I write, so I tend to spend a lot of time researching. The ironic thing is, I hated doing research papers for school. Drove me crazy. Maybe it's different when I'm invested in the project for more than just a teacher's approval. And researching something is much easier now then when I was in school -- no more frowning librarians, paper cuts, or stinky library books -- it's all online smile.gif

Glad you like it so far smile.gif



"What's a "MacGyver" and why does it have a convention?" ~ Bart Simpson

 
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jaebird
Posted: 8 June 2010 - 06:47 AM                                    
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Awesome chapter!



 
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