Disclaimer: I do not own UPN or Paramount, just some books and hopefully in the future a couple of cats... The following is a story I wrote about one of the characters on the show Enterprise, and I used it from his perspective, since he's been in a hospital much more than I have.....

An Overly Long Stay In Sickbay

Dear Sister Madeline,
The following is a letter about my life on and off board Enterprise; the latter being much more adventurous but very typical concerning the former. It is the sixth time I've landed in Sickbay these past three months and I don't know how I can get a piece of the pool, the crew has paid into called the "Ready Reed's Running Streak". Well, another Away Mission ended in near disaster. The minute the Captain stepped out of the shuttlepod, these little mines, the size of ping-pong balls started to detonate. The Captain had gotten out three feet, and was hit squarely on both sides. I jumped out of the craft, flipped him face forward to the back. Then grabbed said superior officer by his backbelt loop, and tossed him like shaking out a gingham picnic blanket. Luckily, Porthos, his beagle, was there to catch his Pop, and scored an extra goalie when Ensign Sato landed on top of him, as Subcommander T'Pol matched my moves with lightening clarity.
Then I looked out into the distant field, and despairingly realized I 'd have to go rescue those incompetent MACOs (Military Attachment Corps. Officers). The two were firing their rifles at the mines, causing twice as much as a normal explosion, and then hopping about like ninnies, wondering why they were on fire. I raced out and caught two hits to my back and chest, yelled at the crewman, which made them just give me ugly, blank stares. I grabbed the nearest one's rifles, thrashed him upside the head with it, then did the other one with the butt of his...the rifles not each other. Grabbing them we made it to the cockpit of the pod in about 2 minutes in all, while I got another dosing of welts from the micro-mines. It's too bloody ironic that they were on the same areas of me, my front and back. At least the Captain and Ensign were alright; never mind the continually wincing MACOs. I let them take care of each other, and so did T'Pol think the same; she was at the helm, radioing the ship about our fiasco that is our usual format whenever we leave the safety of the ship.
So here, I am in Sickbay, after being the last to come out of decon. The "good" doctor, who says my post-phonement for being here, is due to being the last one, is detaining me here. I tried to call the Armory to have some pads sent up to take a look at next week's duty roster but Phlox said he would have me feeding his menagerie for a month. As in I would be the main course, even if I were one of the smallest men on board! I quickly tucked under my blanket, and lay on my right side since that was the only one of two comfortable positions I could recline. It's now the second day in this faux realm of medicine. It's also odd that Porthos, the Captain's very own pooch, comes and visits me quite often. Usually followed by Cmdr. Tucker (Trip), who brings me my trays of meals. He tells me news of the ship, what the latest gossip is concerning who will get a surprise party for their birthday, or if the Captain has allowed snacking on the bridge. I told Trip that I needed more work pads to keep up with the paperwork for the diagnostics for the weapons, which torpedo tubes needed repairs, and so on...he just laughed and plopped another overly-sweet piece of Pecan Pie in front of me, then went off singing a Southern melody, out into the hallway. It's really nice of him to come but sometimes he's either very dirty, and sweaty, having just come off a 24-hr. triple shift. Or he's terribly embarrassing and just comes in only a towel about his waist, and still dripping from the men's shower room. Though, I do like the smell of sandalwood soap on him much more than the odor of manifold exhaust. So, I am still here in Sickbay for the fourth day in a row and am just able to limp around the room with the help of an also-bored Med. Tech. Right now Ensign Sato is being cross-trained in Medical Basics 101; it's a new program initiated by the Captain. Recent attacks by marauders, merchants, or just plain ugly, evil creatures have happened much more over the last few months. Hoshi and I limp around Sickbay for my exercise, and plan my release. Yesterday I was able to crawl into a hydro-chair with the aid of a certain wing-dog, and got so distracted by figuring it out, that Phlox discovered me. He assured me he would release me soon, in fact he showed me how to set and release the brakes, adjust the back support, on the chair. He said I might need to use it for my first five days out of Sickbay, so I figure if I learn it, I'll be out of here faster than croutons on a kidney pie! Would you believe, I found out on my first day here that another mine also hit by bad, right leg causing it to almost collapse all over again, muscle and tendon-wise. I shall endeavor to actually let the MACOs do their job and run the Security Department for a while because after they foul all aspects of it up, who do you think will point out this factoid to the Captain? I've already been drawing-up fix-it plans to implement once I'm rolling through the hallways. That's another project that has kept me busy and I even have a co-conspirator, Ensign Mayweather, who has let me know with 3-hour updates. He also visits with leisurely reading material, unfortunately most of it is his comic book collection. Worse, I'm getting hooked on the stuff! I feel like a real git!
There is one last piece of good news. Hoshi tells me the two MACOs who
I rescued have been scrubbing hull plating and manually re-aligning it
ever since I've been here. This is all thanks to the Captain, and I
shall grin with British glee when I see those two at the next Physical
Combat lesson in the Gym next week...just don't tell Dr. Phlox!