Judgement – Just Who Do You Think You Are?
by Lieutenant Bridget Stapleton & Lieutenant JG Lance Murdoch & Commander Chelsea Dunham
Post Details
::ON::
After her appointment with the charming Mister Monteros, Bridget felt a bit bouncy. What an energetic man! Happily she stopped at the nurse's station, took a padd-chart and went to check on her Bajoran patient. When she pulled the enclosing drapery aside, she saw Lance Murdoch there, and the patient in obvious psychological distress, eyes wide and face blanched.
"What .... !" She struggled to regain her composure. "Excuse me, Doctor Murdoch, may I have a word?" She asked the question with a plaster smile and through gritted teeth.
"No." Replied Lance. He turned his back and ignored her.
She glanced at the woman, who looked back with a pleading expression. Whatever he'd said was obviously upsetting her, in spite of the efforts Bridget had previously gone through to keep her calm. "Her surgery isn't scheduled until 1630, and until then, she is MY patient. Now please leave her alone."
Lance rounded on her, "As the attending surgeon, I would be pretty lax if I didn't conduct a pre-op interview and examination. Now considering you failed to note that as a child this patient suffered from sickel cell anemia, I could have cut into her and had her bleed out on my operating table. So I'd say it's a damn good thing I am here."
"And if you'd even bothered to look at her chart before charging in here like a bull in a china shop," she hissed as she held the padd out before her, "you'd have seen that not only does it show her in-utero diagnosis for the SCD, but that she was given daily doses of penicillin from birth to five years old, as well as a milligram dose of folic acid every single day of her life!"
She raised a hand toward her comm badge. "Now do I need to call Security, or will you step outside and discuss this?"
Lance crossed his arms, "Call security. Perhaps some time in the brig will remind you that as CHIEF surgeon I report to Dr. Adams and Dr. Adams alone. If you thought further than than that oversized nose of yours, you would remember that you are addressing a superior officer higher up in the chain of command than you are." He picked up the PADD containing the patients medical history and tossed it at her. "And while you are in there, you can re-read where you ordered her anesthetized with isoflurane."
Lance looked at her smugly. "Now I was going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say you were just too lazy to read the chart, but since you are aware of her pre-existing anemic condition and it's treatment, would you care to explain why you would prescribe an anesthetic agent that has been known to cause postoperative morbidity in 83% of the cases where it was administered to patients with this condition?"
He regarded her stunned expression with a look of amusement. "It's a good thing I'm here to take up your slack." He commented dryly.
She couldn't believe it. "As you can see, Doctor Murdock, this poor woman is already undergoing the perioperative transfusion, which, if you recall, was requested with your signature. I consulted with the anesthesiologist, who looked at her chart and assured me that the isoflurane would have minimal complication, given the situation. He suggested a mild fever might present itself postoperatively, but that was it. She is under twenty years of age, and as you well know, all she is having done is a myringotomy. Morbidity rate under such conditions is less than seventeen percent." It was a low-risk procedure, and he knew it. So why all the drama, and why in front of the patient, for heavens' sake? "Now I suggest that you let her rest so that she can be better prepared to face this procedure. ...Unless you just enjoy upsetting the patients, and raising their morbidity rate by the stress you put on their minds and bodies with all this harangue?"
"Well to be on the safe side, I'm switching her to from isoflurane to halothane," Lance glanced down at the confused woman. "She seemed to be doing just fine till you arrived." He crossed his arms and leaned up against the bed. "I'll leave as soon as I get an apology from you." He stated, "and unless you want to spend the next six months cleaning bedpans and changing colostomy bags, I suggest you start remembering the hierarchy around here."
Bridget gave him a long look, daggers in her eyes. She lifted the padd and wrote in a note that the anesthesia had been changed per the surgeon's request. Halothane was fine; there were a half dozen anesthetics that were relatively safe for transfused SCD patients. But she wanted to make sure that the anesthesiologist got a quick note from her, so that he was clear on the change imposed by His Imperial Majesty.
Opening a notepad file, she wrote, "This patient suffers from chronic depression and anxiety, and our discussion of her treatment in front of her is only distressing her further. Look at her, dammit! Look at the dilation of her eyes. The pallor of her skin. Do you want her going under your knife like that? Do you? Because I'll be damned if I'm going to let her out of my sight, with the symptoms she's displaying."
Silently she handed the padd to Lance, and went around the other side of the bed. She took the young woman's hand in both of her own, seeing her visibly trembling after witnessing the two doctors argue over her. Bridget's eyes and voice softened, and she spoke to her, ignoring Lance.
"My apologies to you, my dear," she rubbed the girl's arm gently. "Our greatest concern is to see you get well." She included Lance, looking up at him and mutely daring him to countermand her. After a second, she looked down and spoke again. "We don't want to see you suffering pain any longer, and we just feel passionately about your safety. That's what this was all about." She brushed the hair back from the girl's hairline, methodically stroking her forehead in a soothing manner, doing her best to reduce the girl's tension.
Lance leaned over and whispered just loud enough for Bridget to hear, "Uuhh no. I meant apologize to me. Your superior officer. But since you don't seem to be able to do even that, consider yourself on bedpan duty until further notice." He smirked, stepping back " Since its such a minor procedure, I'm moving the myringotomy up. The OR will be available in half an hour, I want her prepped and ready for surgery then."
He handed the PADD back to Dr Stapleton. "That way she wont be taking up one of my beds any longer, so we can make space for a real patient and I can be done in time for happy hour at the Box of Delights."
She saw the hurt look in the woman's eyes as she took the padd. What a jerk, to intentionally offend a patient right to their face. Rather than argue, she looked up at the readout of the overhead panel and said in a professional tone, "The transfusion is in process, Doctor, and this patient will be ready for surgery at 1630." The transfusion was being monitored, and it was clearly obvious that there was still a ways to go before it would be finished; so his demand that she be hurried along was just bluster. You can't hurry a transfusion.
She turned her attention back to the patient, checking her vital signs both on the monitor and manually, then making a notation in the padd - essentially continuing with her job, as if Lance hadn't ever been there. She wasn't threatened by him in the least. She knew he wouldn't be able to make the bedpan duty stick; he might be her superior officer, but Chelsea clearly knew what kind of an officer he really was. He had the personality of a rhinoceros.
Lance wordlessly left the scene and headed off towards the nurses station. Several minutes later a large African woman in a nurse's outfit approached Bridget. "Dr Stapleton?" She said by way of greeting. "I'll take over here, you've been re-assigned," she stated simply, handing Bridget a bedpan. "Dr. Murdoch sends his regards." The woman smiled as she bumped Bridget out the way and began fussing over the Bajoran woman.
"Thank you, dear, but that won't be necessary." Bridget winked at the patient before turning a benign smile at the nurse, and setting the bedpan out of the way. If Murdoch thought he'd be able to get around her, he'd have to bring Chelsea in to do it, not some nurse who didn't realize she'd been duped into doing his dirty work. Bridget allowed the nurse to fuss, figuring the woman certainly wouldn't do her patient any harm by assisting. So she merely switched sides of the bed, continuing to monitor the transfusion. There were still approximately forty minutes to go, and it would take direct order from Chelsea to budge her.
The somewhat jovial nurse spoke. "You know, Doctor Stapleton, it's really easier not to fight with Doctor Murdoch. Despite what your personal opinion of him is, he really is a highly respected surgeon; and though Dr. Adams is your immediate superior, Dr. Murdoch carries some serious clout here in Sickbay. Crossing him probably isn't the best idea, you really should just just smile and cooperate."
Bridget looked at the nurse's nametag before addressing her. "I hear ya, Laverne. Problem is, I think Doctor Murdoch has a rather high regard for the clout he carries, and I suspect he tends to abuse it at times. I don't question his skill in the operating room, at all. I'm completely with you on that. But if he thinks he can just do as he pleases with me - well, he's going to get a rather rude awakening."
She grinned at the nurse, and after a pause she tipped her head to the side, watching the woman work gently with the patient. The woman was already calming considerably, and Bridget approved of the large nurse's technique. "Honey, I don't want to put you or anybody else in the middle of this, okay? Because things between Doctor Murdoch and I might get ugly before they get better, and it shouldn't backfire on the good nursing staff we have here."
Laverne raised an eyebrow, "Look dearie, 4 years ago Dr. Murdoch re-attached my son's legs after they had been severed in a shuttle crash. Tyrone now has full mobility in his legs and has just been made captain of his soccer team. As far as I'm concerned, Lance Murdoch is an angel sent by god. If things do get 'ugly' in sickbay, they will be getting 'ugly' for you." She smiled sweetly at Bridget whilst she adjusted the Bajoran's IV.
"You really think she's going to cooperate?" The orderly asked Lance. "Nope," replied the head surgeon. "She's far to stubborn and pig-headed. Keep going," he instructed, as the orderly began pouring another bottle of fish liver oil into Dr. Stapleton's locker. "I just wanted to make sure she didn't leave that bedside," Lance grinned. He knew he was being petty, but he was just having too much fun. "And that's the last of the charts," he said, having changed all of Bridget's patient files to reflect their attending physician's name as 'Dr. Big Nose'. "Let's get out of here, Jimmy," Lance said, and they casually exited the changing area, without drawing any attention to themselves. "Looks like she's getting on Laverne's nerves, too," Jimmy pointed out. Lance chuckled, "First rule of Sickbay, Jimmy: don't piss off the nurses!"
"And the second rule sir?" asked Jimmy.
"Don't piss off Dr. Murdoch!" Lance grinned devilishly back at the orderly.
::OFF::
A post between
Lieutenant JG Lance Murdoch
(Doctor)Head Surgeon
Deep Space 5
Laverne
A Nurse
NPC'd by Brad
Jimmy
An Orderly
NPC'd By Brad
Ensign Bridget Stapleton
Doctor (General Practitioner) - DS5
by Lieutenant Bridget Stapleton & Lieutenant JG Lance Murdoch & Commander Chelsea Dunham
Post Details
| Title | Just Who Do You Think You Are? | |
| Mission | Judgement | |
| Author(s) | Lieutenant Bridget Stapleton & Lieutenant JG Lance Murdoch & Commander Chelsea Dunham | |
| Posted | Fri Feb 18, 2011 @ 6:19pm | |
| Location | Sickbay | |
| Timeline | SD36 - 1500 |
After her appointment with the charming Mister Monteros, Bridget felt a bit bouncy. What an energetic man! Happily she stopped at the nurse's station, took a padd-chart and went to check on her Bajoran patient. When she pulled the enclosing drapery aside, she saw Lance Murdoch there, and the patient in obvious psychological distress, eyes wide and face blanched.
"What .... !" She struggled to regain her composure. "Excuse me, Doctor Murdoch, may I have a word?" She asked the question with a plaster smile and through gritted teeth.
"No." Replied Lance. He turned his back and ignored her.
She glanced at the woman, who looked back with a pleading expression. Whatever he'd said was obviously upsetting her, in spite of the efforts Bridget had previously gone through to keep her calm. "Her surgery isn't scheduled until 1630, and until then, she is MY patient. Now please leave her alone."
Lance rounded on her, "As the attending surgeon, I would be pretty lax if I didn't conduct a pre-op interview and examination. Now considering you failed to note that as a child this patient suffered from sickel cell anemia, I could have cut into her and had her bleed out on my operating table. So I'd say it's a damn good thing I am here."
"And if you'd even bothered to look at her chart before charging in here like a bull in a china shop," she hissed as she held the padd out before her, "you'd have seen that not only does it show her in-utero diagnosis for the SCD, but that she was given daily doses of penicillin from birth to five years old, as well as a milligram dose of folic acid every single day of her life!"
She raised a hand toward her comm badge. "Now do I need to call Security, or will you step outside and discuss this?"
Lance crossed his arms, "Call security. Perhaps some time in the brig will remind you that as CHIEF surgeon I report to Dr. Adams and Dr. Adams alone. If you thought further than than that oversized nose of yours, you would remember that you are addressing a superior officer higher up in the chain of command than you are." He picked up the PADD containing the patients medical history and tossed it at her. "And while you are in there, you can re-read where you ordered her anesthetized with isoflurane."
Lance looked at her smugly. "Now I was going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say you were just too lazy to read the chart, but since you are aware of her pre-existing anemic condition and it's treatment, would you care to explain why you would prescribe an anesthetic agent that has been known to cause postoperative morbidity in 83% of the cases where it was administered to patients with this condition?"
He regarded her stunned expression with a look of amusement. "It's a good thing I'm here to take up your slack." He commented dryly.
She couldn't believe it. "As you can see, Doctor Murdock, this poor woman is already undergoing the perioperative transfusion, which, if you recall, was requested with your signature. I consulted with the anesthesiologist, who looked at her chart and assured me that the isoflurane would have minimal complication, given the situation. He suggested a mild fever might present itself postoperatively, but that was it. She is under twenty years of age, and as you well know, all she is having done is a myringotomy. Morbidity rate under such conditions is less than seventeen percent." It was a low-risk procedure, and he knew it. So why all the drama, and why in front of the patient, for heavens' sake? "Now I suggest that you let her rest so that she can be better prepared to face this procedure. ...Unless you just enjoy upsetting the patients, and raising their morbidity rate by the stress you put on their minds and bodies with all this harangue?"
"Well to be on the safe side, I'm switching her to from isoflurane to halothane," Lance glanced down at the confused woman. "She seemed to be doing just fine till you arrived." He crossed his arms and leaned up against the bed. "I'll leave as soon as I get an apology from you." He stated, "and unless you want to spend the next six months cleaning bedpans and changing colostomy bags, I suggest you start remembering the hierarchy around here."
Bridget gave him a long look, daggers in her eyes. She lifted the padd and wrote in a note that the anesthesia had been changed per the surgeon's request. Halothane was fine; there were a half dozen anesthetics that were relatively safe for transfused SCD patients. But she wanted to make sure that the anesthesiologist got a quick note from her, so that he was clear on the change imposed by His Imperial Majesty.
Opening a notepad file, she wrote, "This patient suffers from chronic depression and anxiety, and our discussion of her treatment in front of her is only distressing her further. Look at her, dammit! Look at the dilation of her eyes. The pallor of her skin. Do you want her going under your knife like that? Do you? Because I'll be damned if I'm going to let her out of my sight, with the symptoms she's displaying."
Silently she handed the padd to Lance, and went around the other side of the bed. She took the young woman's hand in both of her own, seeing her visibly trembling after witnessing the two doctors argue over her. Bridget's eyes and voice softened, and she spoke to her, ignoring Lance.
"My apologies to you, my dear," she rubbed the girl's arm gently. "Our greatest concern is to see you get well." She included Lance, looking up at him and mutely daring him to countermand her. After a second, she looked down and spoke again. "We don't want to see you suffering pain any longer, and we just feel passionately about your safety. That's what this was all about." She brushed the hair back from the girl's hairline, methodically stroking her forehead in a soothing manner, doing her best to reduce the girl's tension.
Lance leaned over and whispered just loud enough for Bridget to hear, "Uuhh no. I meant apologize to me. Your superior officer. But since you don't seem to be able to do even that, consider yourself on bedpan duty until further notice." He smirked, stepping back " Since its such a minor procedure, I'm moving the myringotomy up. The OR will be available in half an hour, I want her prepped and ready for surgery then."
He handed the PADD back to Dr Stapleton. "That way she wont be taking up one of my beds any longer, so we can make space for a real patient and I can be done in time for happy hour at the Box of Delights."
She saw the hurt look in the woman's eyes as she took the padd. What a jerk, to intentionally offend a patient right to their face. Rather than argue, she looked up at the readout of the overhead panel and said in a professional tone, "The transfusion is in process, Doctor, and this patient will be ready for surgery at 1630." The transfusion was being monitored, and it was clearly obvious that there was still a ways to go before it would be finished; so his demand that she be hurried along was just bluster. You can't hurry a transfusion.
She turned her attention back to the patient, checking her vital signs both on the monitor and manually, then making a notation in the padd - essentially continuing with her job, as if Lance hadn't ever been there. She wasn't threatened by him in the least. She knew he wouldn't be able to make the bedpan duty stick; he might be her superior officer, but Chelsea clearly knew what kind of an officer he really was. He had the personality of a rhinoceros.
Lance wordlessly left the scene and headed off towards the nurses station. Several minutes later a large African woman in a nurse's outfit approached Bridget. "Dr Stapleton?" She said by way of greeting. "I'll take over here, you've been re-assigned," she stated simply, handing Bridget a bedpan. "Dr. Murdoch sends his regards." The woman smiled as she bumped Bridget out the way and began fussing over the Bajoran woman.
"Thank you, dear, but that won't be necessary." Bridget winked at the patient before turning a benign smile at the nurse, and setting the bedpan out of the way. If Murdoch thought he'd be able to get around her, he'd have to bring Chelsea in to do it, not some nurse who didn't realize she'd been duped into doing his dirty work. Bridget allowed the nurse to fuss, figuring the woman certainly wouldn't do her patient any harm by assisting. So she merely switched sides of the bed, continuing to monitor the transfusion. There were still approximately forty minutes to go, and it would take direct order from Chelsea to budge her.
The somewhat jovial nurse spoke. "You know, Doctor Stapleton, it's really easier not to fight with Doctor Murdoch. Despite what your personal opinion of him is, he really is a highly respected surgeon; and though Dr. Adams is your immediate superior, Dr. Murdoch carries some serious clout here in Sickbay. Crossing him probably isn't the best idea, you really should just just smile and cooperate."
Bridget looked at the nurse's nametag before addressing her. "I hear ya, Laverne. Problem is, I think Doctor Murdoch has a rather high regard for the clout he carries, and I suspect he tends to abuse it at times. I don't question his skill in the operating room, at all. I'm completely with you on that. But if he thinks he can just do as he pleases with me - well, he's going to get a rather rude awakening."
She grinned at the nurse, and after a pause she tipped her head to the side, watching the woman work gently with the patient. The woman was already calming considerably, and Bridget approved of the large nurse's technique. "Honey, I don't want to put you or anybody else in the middle of this, okay? Because things between Doctor Murdoch and I might get ugly before they get better, and it shouldn't backfire on the good nursing staff we have here."
Laverne raised an eyebrow, "Look dearie, 4 years ago Dr. Murdoch re-attached my son's legs after they had been severed in a shuttle crash. Tyrone now has full mobility in his legs and has just been made captain of his soccer team. As far as I'm concerned, Lance Murdoch is an angel sent by god. If things do get 'ugly' in sickbay, they will be getting 'ugly' for you." She smiled sweetly at Bridget whilst she adjusted the Bajoran's IV.
"You really think she's going to cooperate?" The orderly asked Lance. "Nope," replied the head surgeon. "She's far to stubborn and pig-headed. Keep going," he instructed, as the orderly began pouring another bottle of fish liver oil into Dr. Stapleton's locker. "I just wanted to make sure she didn't leave that bedside," Lance grinned. He knew he was being petty, but he was just having too much fun. "And that's the last of the charts," he said, having changed all of Bridget's patient files to reflect their attending physician's name as 'Dr. Big Nose'. "Let's get out of here, Jimmy," Lance said, and they casually exited the changing area, without drawing any attention to themselves. "Looks like she's getting on Laverne's nerves, too," Jimmy pointed out. Lance chuckled, "First rule of Sickbay, Jimmy: don't piss off the nurses!"
"And the second rule sir?" asked Jimmy.
"Don't piss off Dr. Murdoch!" Lance grinned devilishly back at the orderly.
::OFF::
A post between
Lieutenant JG Lance Murdoch
(Doctor)Head Surgeon
Deep Space 5
Laverne
A Nurse
NPC'd by Brad
Jimmy
An Orderly
NPC'd By Brad
Ensign Bridget Stapleton
Doctor (General Practitioner) - DS5