AfterMASH - The Pied Pfeiffer.
Disclaimer: I do not own M*A*S*H, AfterMASH, or have any connection to the series whatsoever - this is merely my attempt at tying up loose ends from a series that was canceled far too soon.
Chapter 1
It seemed to be an average day at General Pershing Veteran's Hospital, though for once there seemed to be less than your usual amount of OR cases.
Since Dr. Mark Boyer had come on the staff, he'd insisted on operating on as many patients as he could. Colonel Sherman Potter, now Chief of Staff at General Pershing, surmised that Boyer would eventually run himself ragged, but for now Dr. Boyer was taking comfort in the fact it wasn't meatball surgery and mortar fire. As angry and dismissive as he was against the bureaucratic side of society, even he had to admit that it beat the hell out of butchery in Battallion Aid Stations. Boyer never even had the relative "safety" of a M*A*S*H unit. When Boyer asked for a scalpel, he was more likely to recieve one from a North Korean. But he was stateside now, and he had to adjust to that. Hard enough adjusting to civilian life on two legs, let alone one. But he'd be damned if he'd let something as small as a missing leg stop him from saving lives.
Dr. Gene Pfeiffer on the other hand, though by no means an incompetent surgeon, simply didn't have the experience of someone like Boyer or Potter. He was appreciative of the experience of "General General" but was quite naive on a lot of levels. What he really needed was a social life, an outlet from the hospital. He was a civilian Doctor through and through and needed time away from the army cases to get his head together. There was a bar across the road, but it was full of veterans and...girls of questionable character. Besides, he could barely stomach alcohol. Some doctors may be able to handle surgery while drunk, but Gene was lucky if he could do an operation on a stomachful of Grape Nehi. Instead, food was his poison. It was a wonder he stayed in shape, given the amount of food he consumed on a daily basis.
Dr. Boyer was in the O.R. He'd just finished another shrapnel job. A large piece of shrapnel had been edging further and further up the patient's back for a couple of years now, but it had finally struck a nerve. In Battalion Aid, you don't have time for window dressing, sometimes you just have to patch them up as best you can and send them on.
He took off his bloodstained gloves, threw them in the trash and started to scrub up again. Being sterile was one thing, but Boyer was scrubbing just like he did on his first day back Stateside. Like he'd never be clean. This was one of the boys he patched up back in Korea, he recognised his own handiwork.
The doors swung open with a clunk. It was Col. Potter. "Evenin', Boyer." he said.
"Colonel." Boyer said simply.
"You've been going at it pretty hard this last week, you sure you don't want me to take over?"
"You saying you don't think I'm up to it?" Boyer said, agitated.
"Son, what I'm saying is ANY doctor would be exhausted after a stretch like that."
"I'm not just any doctor, Sherman."
"Confidence is one thing, but plain arrogance is a whole load of bushwah!" Potter said sternly. "I don't care how many patients there are, or how much you feel you've got to prove. I'm ORDERING you to get some rest."
"Colonel! This was one of mine. I patched him up outside of Uijeongbu. He had a back full of shrapnel, and a bullet right in the heart of it. I was lucky to get the bullet out, and stop the bleeding long enough to get him to a MASH. Boyer looked at Potter with an accusing glare. "Looks like your MASH boys didn't get all the shrapnel out."
"Now you listen here. You know as well as I do that in those situations, it's hard enough keeping our boys ALIVE. You didn't have time to play metal detector, and neither did we. I can't speak for the other MASH units, but if this was one of our boys, we were reacting to the most pressing issue at the time, which, as you've told me, is a bullet wound. None of us could take the time that we'd have liked to, if we could have, my hair would be a damn sight darker." Potter looked at the clipboard on the wall. "Besides, if I'm to believe you, you've just finished up on Private Jeffries. You've gotten that time you missed out on back in Korea."
Boyer seemed to relent a little. "I know, Colonel. But the next guy might not have much time. Just one more patient."
"I know you're hurting, son. We all are. I don't think an operation goes by where I don't think of someone I would've liked to spend more time on, but when you're scrubbing so hard that your arms are red, I need to look out for my doctors just as much as my patients." Potter put his hand on Boyer's shoulder. "One more patient, then you get yourself a little R&R pronto. Understood?"
Boyer sighed. "Understood."