Here's s'more for you to read. Hope you like it
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12:03. Ferris copied the faintly glowing numbers from her watch to the notepad she had balanced on her knee. She was seated on the edge of the bed her office’s quiet room, taking her newest patient’s vital signs as unobtrusively as possible. Settling her stethoscope against her ears, she slid the metal disk between his arm and the blood pressure cuff. Positioning the gauge so she could see it in the room’s dim lighting, she inflated the cuff and took a reading.
The doctor looked up from recording the results to find a pair of bleary brown eyes watching her. “Hi, Mac,” she greeted, looping her stethoscope around her neck. “I’m sorry to wake you. You slept right through it the last time.”
“Last time?” Mac asked, his voice thick with sleep.
“Well, actually it was the last
couple of times, but yes. The medication I gave you is still in the experimental stage, so I’ve been checking on you every half hour. I closely monitor everyone in my study for adverse reactions.”
“So I’m a guinea pig now, huh?”
Ferris smiled. “You are, albeit inadvertently.” She took the blood pressure cuff from his arm. “Speaking of which, how you feeling?”
“Groggy.”
“That’s the Proto-3. It’ll go away in a couple of hours, I promise. How about your head? Any pain?”
“Some, but it’s tolerable.” While the petite doctor jotted her notes, Mac took the opportunity to check out his surroundings. The room was small, no bigger than a generous walk-in closet, with institutional fixtures and several TV monitors recessed into the wall. The space was cool, quiet, and relatively dark, the perfect environment for catching a nap.
“We’re in a room off my main lab,” Ferris explained, having seen him looking around. “I use it primarily for sleep studies, but it’s come in handy after pulling an all-nighter at the microscope. You don’t remember coming in here, do you?”
“No.”
“You were pretty out of it by the time we left the elevator.”
“Where’s Pete?”
“He’s about two hours into the budget meeting. He said he’d come check on you when they broke for lunch.”
Mac nodded and sighed, his eyes beginning to feel heavy again.
Reading his body language, Ferris stood. “I’ll let you get back to sleep. Is there anything I can get you? Are you warm enough?”
“I’m good, thanks,” the troubleshooter replied. He shifted around until he was on his side and burrowed deeper into the covers.
“I’ll be working right out in the next room – give me a shout if you need anything.” She smoothed out the top blanket and gathered her notes to leave. Pausing at the door, she dimmed the lights and turned back to look at him one last time. “Pleasant dreams,” she said, and left him to sleep.
*
It was nearly quarter of two by the time Pete was able to break away from his meeting. Things were going surprisingly well despite his earlier reservations. The president of the Foundation seemed open to discussing the different departments’ needs and wants, and had tentatively agreed to a fair amount of the propositions made so far.
Pete made his way down the long tenth floor hallway, heading for Ferris’s lab in the back quadrant. Unlike the other floors of the building that were teaming with life, the tenth floor had little to see. It was primarily used for supply and equipment storage, but there were several spare offices and a conference room if things got busy. While most people believed the area was too quiet and out of the way, Ferris found it perfect for her lab, the limited traffic allowing her to conduct her drug trials and sleep studies uninterrupted.
The director opened the glass-fronted door and stepped inside. The main room itself was quite large and typical of a Phoenix lab. Workstations were scattered along the stainless steel counters, each one with its own unique set up and equipment. A bank of computers sat at the far end of the room, while rows of cabinetry and filing drawers lined the walls. Shelves stuffed with leather-bound books flanked an x-ray viewer, and even more were tucked neatly in between the assorted microscopes, centrifuges, and pharmaceutical paraphernalia. Clean and orderly, it was unmistakably the territory of a professional who was both dedicated and passionate about their work.
“Ferris?” Pete called, finding the lab empty.
“In here, Pete.”
He headed toward the sound of her voice. It was coming from one of the smaller rooms attached to the main lab – the one they’d taken MacGyver into several hours before. He found his friend perched on the edge of the bed with his face buried in his hands and a trashcan at his feet.
“What’s going on?” he asked, immediately noticing the concerned look on the doctor’s face.
“He’s a little sick,” Ferris replied, seated beside him. “He was doing fine up until about ten minutes ago. I’m not sure what changed.”
“A side effect?”
“It’s possible, although he’d be the first one to experience acute nausea with this particular drug.”
Pete sat in the plastic chair near the foot of the bed. “Mac?”
The troubleshooter slowly moved his hands away from his face, his expression a mixture of misery and pain. His skin had taken on a green hue and his shaggy bangs were matted with sweat.
“Hey. How you doing?”
“Not so good,” MacGyver replied in a wavering voice.
“Are you sure he isn’t having a reaction of some kind?”
The doctor shrugged, as equally concerned as she was frustrated. “I don’t know. I’ll need to do some blood work before I can say for certain, but I would …” She saw Mac flinch and tip his head to the side. “MacGyver, what’s wrong?”
“Ringing,” he muttered, looking decisively uncomfortable.
Pete exchanged a confused look with Ferris. “Do you hear anything?”
“No, not like…” Her eyes widened. “Come on, Mac. I want you to lie down.” She stood and helped to settle him on his side, pushing the pile of blankets toward the wall.
“What’s going on?” Pete asked, becoming worried when she lifted the bedside guardrail into place.
“He may be about to have a seizure.”
“
What?"“There are several indicators that sometimes signal an impending seizure. They’re called auras, and auditory hallucinations is one of them.”
“Can’t you do anything to stop it?”
“Without knowing for certain what’s going on, I could make things worse by trying. Now if he does seize, I may need your help.”
“Anything.”
The troubleshooter curled into a ball and groaned, his head feeling fit to burst as the pain and ringing grew. Something was going to happen. Ferris was speaking to him, but the high-pitched whine between his ears made it difficult to hear the individual words. A sense of detachment washed over him like a wave and his consciousness waned. He tried to say something to Pete, but his words came out incomprehensible as he began to seize.
Alarmed, the director shot to his feet. “MacGyver!”
“Pete, I need your help,” Ferris said, firmly griping her patient’s shuddering arm and shoulder. “Take a hold of his legs. Don’t try to restrain him – we just want to keep him from hitting the wall and hurting himself.”
He was frozen, unable to tear his eyes away from the frightening spasms that had engulfed his friend’s entire body.
There was a loud thud as Mac’s foot forcefully struck the wall.
“Pete!” The petite doctor’s voice had taken on an edge of urgency.
Snapping out of his daze, he took a hold of Mac’s long legs.
This can’t be stress… He thought, the randomness and intensity of the spasms making it difficult to keep his grip.
There’s just no conceivable way that this is stress… “Easy, Mac, you’re all right,” Ferris soothed, offering the seizing man as much reassurance as she could. “Just let it happen.”
Nearly two minutes later, the convulsion stopped, and MacGyver lay still. Both held their breaths, waiting and watching to see if it had truly ended.
“Is it over?” Pete asked at last, oblivious to the beads of sweat rolling down his pale face.
The doctor slowly nodded.
“Is he all right?”
“I don’t know.” Ferris put on her stethoscope and slipped the metal disk beneath her patient’s shirt, trying to conceal her shaking hands. She had seen many seizures throughout her education and career, but this was the worst grand mal she’d witnessed firsthand. Although her impartial mask of professionalism hid her emotions well, her nerves had been rattled.
Ferris shut her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to focus. Through the ear buds of her stethoscope came the amplified sounds of Mac’s breathing and heart, their rhythms and rates clearly stressed.
“It took a lot out of him,” she replied, taking a penlight from her coat pocket and checking Mac’s eyes. “Pupil response is sluggish and uneven…”
“And that means…?”
“It could be a of sign of inter-cranial swelling.” She paused for a moment, fiddling with the penlight in her hands. “Pete, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but there’s definitely something more than simple fatigue going on here. We need to run some basic tests to find out what it is, but…” The doctor sighed. There was no sense in adding to the man’s worry. “Do you mind sitting with him? I need to make a phone call.”
“Wait, where are you going?”
“I’ll be right outside the door. If anything happens, I’ll be able to see it.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Talk to him. Touch him. Let him know you’re here. I’ll be right back.”
Pete watched her leave the room and appear in the doorway a moment later, the phone in her hand. She gave him an encouraging nod and he turned back to his unconscious friend. Sliding the plastic chair to the side of the bed, he sat down heavily and sighed, unsure what to say or even do. He finally reached out and took Mac’s hand in his own, feeling the slight tremor that was still coursing through his body.
“I’m here, MacGyver. You’re going to be all right. We’ll get to the bottom of this and get you fixed up in no time.” He fell silent, his encouragement sounding about as natural as a pitchman’s call. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, this time choosing a topic he could talk confidently about.
“The budget meeting is going well. The company president seems pretty impressed with our department’s work lately, and is eager to hear what we have planned for the upcoming year. It turns out one of the board members has a nephew that attends the Hillenburg School, and he spoke highly of the work you’ve been doing to improve the grounds. He was especially impressed by the pond and the perpetual waterfall you made out of an old garden hose and a discarded set of stone stairs.”
“He made a waterfall out of a hose and stone stairs?” Ferris asked, appearing at his side. “That’s…unique.”
“Mac tends to see everyday items differently than we do,” Pete explained with an almost father-like fondness. “He has a penchant for using them in ways they were never intended.”
The doctor smiled. “So I’ve heard.”
“He’s gotten himself and others out of some pretty tough scrapes that way. He’s even saved me a couple of times.” Pete sighed and looked down at his friend. His breathing had slowed, but his pale features still showed discomfort. “He’s not waking up.”
“He probably won’t for a while. What he went through was exhausting and he needs time to recover.” She retrieved the blankets from the bottom of the bed and pulled them up over his motionless form. “I just spoke with Franklin, a colleague of mine out at the University Hospital.”
The name was familiar. “Franklin? As in Franklin
Cobb, the neurosurgeon that’s been all over the news for his research on brain function?”
Ferris nodded. “He also teaches a random class now and then at the University, which is where we first met. He’s been a good friend and mentor for years, and now that we work together, he’s become an invaluable resource. I told him what’s been going on with MacGyver, and he’d like to see him as soon as possible.”
“He thinks there’s something serious going on.”
“There are a lot of things in medicine that you can get away with, but fooling around with the brain isn’t one of them.”
Pete frowned, trying to decide if it was her way of metaphorically saying yes.
“Either way, we won’t know for sure until we get him tested. Franklin is going to have an ambulance dispatched to pick him up. They should be here within 20 minutes or so.”
“Can I go with him?”
“Certainly. But what about your meeting?”
“I’ve already said my piece and submitted my final report for review. They’ll just have to finish the rest without me,” he replied, hardly giving thought to how his boss would react to him missing the most important meeting of the fiscal year. “May I borrow your phone? I’d like to let a few people know I’ll be stepping out.”
“Sure.”
He checked on MacGyver once more before standing and heading for the door.
“And Pete, if they say you can’t go…”
The director stopped, but didn’t turn around. “They won’t have a choice,” he replied, and left to make his call.
*
…Bullet wound to right shoulder and wrist. Shoulder wound became infected and was treated by using primitive techniques. Proper treatment for wounds and infection were administered upon return stateside…
…Treated for mild hypothermia, basic contusions, and a minor concussion sustained during avalanche…
…Eight stitches to close wound from bullet graze. Patient also sustained a moderate concussion with a period of inclusive amnesia…Ferris shook her head as she skimmed through the medical file the Foundation had on MacGyver. It seemed the young man had been everywhere and done nearly everything, all while in the crosshairs of one extremist group or another. Based on some of the reports she’d read, it was a small miracle he was still alive.
She looked up from her reading and watched as two city paramedics carried her patient from the quiet room and settled him on a gurney. He was still unconscious, but she wasn’t surprised. His seizure had been quite severe, and his body needed time to normalize itself.
Ferris flipped to the front of the sizable file and went back to reading. Since setting up her lab several months ago, she’d had an opportunity to meet many of the operatives who called the Phoenix Foundation home. While each agent imparted their own unique skills and techniques, they all shared the same passion for the job and genuinely wanted to make the world a better place. It was comforting to know there were still people out there willing to fight for and protect the underdog – be it flora or fauna, man or machine – even if it meant putting themselves in harm’s way.
…Impacted net during hockey scrimmage. Treated for three bruised ribs and twisted ankle…
And then again, boys will be boys… she thought, a smile touching her lips.
Shouts came from the next room.
“Hey!”
“Take it easy, fella.”
Ferris dropped the folder and hurried out into the main lab. “What’s wrong?” she asked, finding both paramedics trying to hold a weakly struggling MacGyver in place.
“He’s coming around,” the medic controlling Mac’s legs explained. “He started fighting us when the straps went on.”
“It’s post seizure confusion. He’s been through…whoa, whoa! Take it easy!” the doctor exclaimed, placing a restraining hand on Mac’s arm when he came up against the gurney’s straps. “MacGyver? Mac, come on. You’re all right.”
The troubleshooter mumbled something incoherent and turned his head away from her voice.
“Mac? Can you hear me? Mac?” Ferris called to him a few more times, but he didn’t respond. She took him by the chin, turning his face towards her. He tensed, but she didn’t let go. “Easy, Mac. Come on. Open your eyes. Look at me.”
His eyes opened briefly before shutting again against the bright light.
“That’s it, MacGyver. Look at me. Show me those amazing eyes of yours,” she urged, keeping her voice low and calm.
After a little more verbal prodding, he opened them again and focused on the face in front of him.
“Doctor,” he uttered quietly, her name not immediately coming to mind.
“Now what did I say about calling me that?” Ferris asked lightly, letting go of his chin and taking his hand. She motioned for the medics to release their hold. “How do you feel?”
“Tired. Confused. Sore.”
“Your head hurt?”
“Everything hurts,” he replied, his muscles aching like he’d been in a fight and lost. Miserably. “What happened?”
“You had a seizure. You’re coming out of it all right though.”
“Pete?”
“He had a few things to take care of before we leave. He’s going to meet us in the lobby.”
“Wait -- leave?” Mac asked, noticing the two paramedics for the first time.
“We’re taking you to the University Hospital to see a friend of mine. He’s going to help me figure out what’s causing your headaches and seizures,” she explained, moving as the medics covered her patient with a blanket. “He’s a nice guy. I think you’ll like him.”
“We’re about ready to move here, doctor,” one of the medics said.
“All right. I just need to grab my notes.” Ferris gave Mac’s arm reassuring pat. “Hang in there, okay? We’ll get through this.”
MacGyver nodded and sighed, overwhelmed by the news.
First headaches, then fainting spells, and now seizures – what’s going on? His eyes grew heavy and he allowed them to shut, intending to only rest for a minute. He didn’t realize he’d dozed off until something cold and wet splattered against his face. Startled, Mac looked and caught a glimpse of the gray, cloud-choked sky before it was replaced by a low ceiling with frosted bright lights.
An ambulance… he thought dismally, having been inside one enough times to recognize it from his reclined position.
Great…Closing his eyes against the lights, Mac felt himself start to drift almost immediately. He was nearly asleep when he heard someone haul themselves into the back of the rig, the heavy doors slamming shut behind them. He looked up to find a familiar face looking down at him. “Pete?”
“Hey,” the director said, settling down on the padded bench as the large vehicle’s engine rumbled to life. He saw the younger man staring at him with a pensive look on his face. “What?”
“I thought…don’t you have a meeting?”
Pete sighed. “I do, or rather I did. I’m coming with you instead.”
“But, Pete…”
“No. I don’t want to hear it. I had a decision to make, I made it, and it’s final. I don’t want you to worry about it, okay?”
MacGyver held his boss’s gaze for a moment before relenting with a nod. He wasn’t in the mood to argue specifics.
Pete squeezed his friend’s arm through the blanket. “Get some rest.”
Not needing to be told twice, Mac closed his eyes and sighed. Still exhausted from the seizure, it wasn’t long before he dropped off completely, lulled to sleep by the gentle purr of the rig’s engine.
