Dear Diary

I've finished my preliminary report, now I can devote some time to you. All of the fresh samples have been tested, documented, preserved for study and stowed away including all those little cardboard forms that say: Handle carefully. Computer forms. Do not fold, spindle or mutilate. They're a little old fashioned now a days, but for fieldwork, they work out just fine as labeling.

I'm finally here. I finally got to come through the Stargate to see what's out here for myself. Well, yea, I know I've been through the Gate before, but it was always rushed and panicked. Someone hurt so badly they couldn't wait to get back to my infirmary so I had to rush everything together and hope I grabbed the right 'stuff'. This time is different. I am on a mission with SG1 to boldly go where no Doctor has gone before. Dr. Jackson and I have dubbed it "Planet Apothecary".

It seems this particular planet, (no, I don't know the numerical title Sam's handy dandy computer has given it) is a wealth of botanical and herbal medicinal plant life. You can actually smell it as you come through the gate. Dr. Jackson, Daniel, was the first to notice it. He reported it to the Colonel and Major Carter. Sam confirmed it. I've always said that a sensitive nose is the friend to the pharmacologist and the cook. And heaven knows the only thing more sensitive on Daniel Jackson than his nose is his sense of moral rightness.

He's always been a favorite patient of ours in the infirmary. Quiet, shy, and undemanding except where it involved other members of the team. Colonel O'Neill actually had to 'order' him to come to us about his allergies. And it took so little for us to help him with his sinuses: an antihistamine here, a decongestant there, an antibiotic applied at the proper time. When we finally got him to sit still for an allergy test, he was...Allergic...to everything. But, he'd been so used to suffering in silence that he didn't even think of asking us for assistance. He actually had a case of bronchitis before he even came in for some relief. 'I'm okay, I'm fine, it doesn't hurt, sneeze, wheeze, cough. Breathing is a privilege, not a right.' Poor Daniel.

Colonel O'Neill, however, with the expectations of the lifelong military man demands that he be helped when he needs it. Oh, it's not for lack of fortitude on his part. On the contrary, sometimes he's a bit too stoic for my liking. He hates the clinic, he hates the shots, and he hates the exams that they have to be subjected to after each mission. But he also hates to be sick or incapacitated. There in lies the rub. He wants to be 'fixed'. A broken leg, bullet wound, contusions, concussions, abrasions...fix it Doc. Don't have time to be laid up, missions to go on, miracles to perform, planets to save, a team to lead.

Then there's my friend Sam, Major Carter, a Government-issue child. Born to an active duty parent, she expects treatment. She not afraid to suffer injury because she knows it will be fixed. No demands, just expectations. Military medicine will solve the problems of the universe. Have a disease, give us enough time and we WILL cure it. Sustain a wound, get back to base and we WILL heal it. Bring Janet a problem and she WILL solve it. As flattering as that all is, it's scary. Sooner or later, something will happen and I won't be able to put it right. When we were dealing with the 'Touched', Doc fixed it. Colonel O'Neill suffering from extreme aging due to nanites, Janet came through; the two of them frostbitten and injured in Antarctica, get us back to Fraiser's infirmary and she'll make it right. Oh, Sam...I hope I can always live up to your high expectations.

And there's Teal'c. The Warrior who knows just how fragile human life is because he's taken it. But, as far as himself, another Mr. Invincible: Do not be concerned, Dr Fraiser, I am recovered. My symbiote will fix it, do not worry, Doctor Fraiser. Ooops, there it is. What happens when Junior needs fixed? Like the time you were stung by the 'honking, big bug' and you left him on the floor of the Step-van so you could 'change' into lots of honking, big bugs? "Doc, we gotta little problem here. Junior's not doin' so good." When you are right, Colonel O'Neill, you are right. And when you found Machello's little death traps for the Goa'uld. We were all so worried about Daniel's apparent mental problems I failed to look for the unbelievable and found only the obvious. When the little buggers started taking out their anger on poor Junior, it took a 'crazy' Archeologist to tell me what was wrong. Oooh, I nearly didn't get out that little scrape with my friends, my self-esteem or my job intact.

Note to self: Even if something's as plain as the nose on your face, believe only half of what you see and none of what you're told. I swear that's the last time I'll believe another doctor about 'my' patients.

All of these people have been my friends now for oh, at least four good years. But now, after working with them in the field, and seeing what really makes the team function, I've come to truly appreciate the nuances in their relationships with each other. Colonel O'Neill on base is a real character and has been called a pain in the neck by a few that I know, but out here he's so focused. He's the first to notice anything different, the quickest to react. He's the most proficient, skilled military man I've ever seen. And he guards like a Doberman. Oh wait, don't get me wrong, Teal'c is like nothing I've ever seen on two legs either as far as expert and capable. He's quick, responsive, and protective. He keys off of his leader, watching O'Neill watching. Then, before the command is even spoken, he responds decisively, taking care of the business at hand. Now Daniel, Daniel is a different animal entirely. His whole being is committed to seeing, learning, comprehending and communicating. He will occasionally talk to an anthropomorphic object or animal "just to be sure" he says. "You can't always tell a Cro-magnum from a Neanderthal by looking at his incisors". Then, there's my best friend Sam Carter. She's curious, but cool. An ape is an ape to her, but show her a shiny rock or an electromagnetic wave and she fugues off into a linguistic flight that has Daniel Jackson hopping to keep up. I spent five years in college plus beaucoup more in Medical School too, but I never heard words like that come out of another human being. The Colonel looks from her to Daniel, Daniel is watching her following as best he can and Teal'c, well he just looks around. But by gosh it works. So, as the General says, "Don't anybody fix them".

I mean, all four of my favorite people are...different in their own way. How did Granny Fouquet say it? "Honey, not everybody comes out the kiln the same ways. Some crocks got rounder corners than others."

Well, Granny was right...each of my friends have corners that are a bit slightly rounded, maybe even a bit off plumb and possibly, if you looked hard enough, you might just see the beginning of a crack in their glazes. But all that proves is the vessel is well used. A pot that sits on a shelf is nothing but a piece of clay. A pot that hauls water, cooks food and does its job is a much-loved tool. And at the end of the day, if it needs a washing, or a little touch up of paint or glue before it gets put away for the night...well that just means it's fulfilled its duties and will be ready in the cold morning to warm up breakfast.

Well, it's getting late. Daniel has picked up his weapon and started checking it for his first watch. The Colonel is through packing the trash up and 'washing the dishes' as he says. Sam is finishing up calibrating her instruments and Teal'c is making a final perimeter walk before the Night Watch starts. Being a 'Guest' at his camp, Colonel O'Neill refused my volunteering to pull a watch. He said he wouldn't know my noises and it would 'bother' him. I was almost insulted, but after thinking about it, my unfamiliar presence walking around 'his' night camp would probably grate on his well-honed sense of preservation. So I'll take the privilege of sleeping through the night with a smile.

So I'll sign off now, Dear Diary. Go get myself ready to sleep out under the stars with my friends this last night, all the while feeling as safe as if I was home in my own bed. Then tomorrow, we'll pack up the next 'miracle cure' for mankind. Because this is the team that can find it and will do the job right. Then we'll all go back to Earth to verify, document, complete and file our paperwork.

And after the medical exams are completed and filed, and I've finished my preliminary report; I'll once again gratefully fill out the smaller, flimsy, new computer documentation forms. But this time I think I'll print on the top of the page: Handle carefully. Human Beings. Do not Fold, Spindle or Mutilate to my friends' Medical Records.

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