An Apple a Day
Three
"There you go. That wasn't so bad." Beverly smiled and ran a hand down the cheek of a young girl she had just treated. It was stained with tears that were now dry. She had fallen off of her bicycle and broken her arm. The colony they were dealing with now was not quite technophobic, but they believed in limited use of technology. It was quaint, and also compelling. In the week they'd been working with the colonists, Beverly had had a chance to dine and recreate with some of the families. She found their slower pace of life appealing, a relaxing change of pace.
The little girl hopped off the bio bed and smiled at her, and Beverly smiled back. Impulsively, she turned back around and threw her arms around Beverly's legs. "Thank you Doctor Crusher."
"You're very welcome, Gina. Don't forget to be more careful next time." Crusher's tone was soft but stern.
"I won't." She ran out of the office, already intent on her next adventure.
Beverly let out a large sigh and watched as the girl made her way out of the building. The waiting room was quiet. She had volunteered to treat patients while her staff worked with the local physicians to make improvements and restock the nearby clinics.
She sat down and bit into a large sandwich she'd made for lunch. She ruminated over Wesley as she did so. It seemed so long ago that he had been Gina's age. He would run to her with a scraped knee and she could make it better just like that. Snap. Where was he now? And who took care of his scraped knees? Did he even think of her? She was so young when Wesley was born. Much younger actually, than couples typically had children – Paul and Sheila were much more traditional in that sense. But she and Jack had been so eager to start a family of their own. Both of them were only children, and both had already lost their parents. In the years before they had been married, they spent long Sunday afternoons discussing the Crusher clan they would raise – conjuring images of a large airy house overrun with the laughter of children. Both of them knew they were just dreams. They were each as married to their careers as each other. Nonetheless, they'd planned to have at least another child. Jack had been hoping for a girl.
Beverly exhaled loudly and willed her thoughts elsewhere. Jack's loss was just a dull ache now and it was best not to dwell on the past – but for some reason she'd been doing it a lot lately. Now she faced the second half of her life alone. Not truly alone, for she had such good friends, almost a surrogate family on the Enterprise. But there would be no grandchildren to spoil in her old age. The best she could do would be to hope that Deanna and Will would come to their senses and finally start their own family. For now, she enjoyed spending time with Matthew, and Alyssa's son Tomas and newborn daughter Tashira.
She broke from her thoughts and looked at the chronometer. Time to check in.
She tapped her comm. "Crusher to team alpha, what's your status?"
Alyssa's chipper voice came back to her. "We're doing just fine Doctor. We should be done right on schedule."
"Very good, Lieutenant. I knew there was a reason I kept you around." A sardonic smile played at Beverly's lips.
"We aim to please." Alyssa clicked off the comm.
"Crusher to beta, report?" She got up and began walking around the office, unnecessarily lining up instruments.
"Hi Doc. What can we do for you?" Paul's easy tenor filled the office.
"Just wondering how it's going out there." Beverly stopped her aimless wandering and plunked down behind the desk.
"We've had some trouble with some of the older equipment, but we're on track now. We're going to work through lunch and should be done on schedule. If you ask Sheila, I could stand to skip lunch more often." Paul chuckled at his own joke.
Beverly could picture him rubbing his stomach in good humor. "All right Paul – but I don't want to hear about you missing dinner." She tapped off as a walk-in appeared in the lobby. The man was mobile and upright, but there was plenty of blood. She began washing up as the nurse at reception came out from behind the desk to help the man into the exam room.
She worked on the colonist for an hour. He'd been cutting trees on his property and had injured himself very badly with the old-fashioned chainsaw. Beverly shook her head in disbelief at the jagged wound. Miraculously, it was not a serious injury, but in order to heal it cleanly she'd had to set it precisely and leave his arm under a dermal regenerator for an extended period. He'd also lost a lot of blood, and needed an infusion. She'd had to draw a sample and replicate a large amount. Finally she'd patched the man up and sent him on his way. He'd given her a hearty handshake and a warm smile, which Crusher returned.
She sat down to quickly file a record of the treatment when her comm. blipped to life. "Doctor Crusher, this is Lieutenant Innes of medical team beta. We have a large scale medical emergency – we need you at the South Clinic immediately."
"Crusher here – I'm on my way." She grabbed a portable med kit and called up to the Enterprise. "One to beam directly to the South Clinic." As she felt the familiar tingle sweep over her she prepared herself for whatever trauma lay ahead.
The preparation was of no use when she arrived on the scene. It was chaos. Bodies and acrid smoke filled her eyes and lungs, and she coughed reflexively. A charred land craft lay half-way in and half-way out of the clinic. It was impossible to tell, but it appeared to have crashed into the building and then caught fire and exploded. In a way it was a very typical Federation disaster drill. Unfortunately, the casualties were real.
As well as she could, she picked her way into the heart of the crash site and the building, knowing that it was there she would find the most severely injured. Lieutenant Innes had followed protocol perfectly, and Beverly could hear others of her medical staff arriving behind her. The most senior were making their way in, while the rest stayed near the fallout of the blast triaging and treating the less wounded.
Finally she made her way through the blown-out entrance and into the clinic lobby, waving at security personnel as she did so, ignoring their warnings. She spotted Innes and rushed to where the Lieutenant crouched over a badly burned colonist. "Report, Lieutenant." Her eyes and tone were intense.
"As you can see sir, a large vehicle crashed into the building. We're not sure exactly what happened or why. Those of us who were able to immediately began treating victims. Anyone that's too badly injured but stable enough for transport is being beamed directly to the Enterprise."
"Well done. What is the current triage situation?" Beverly raised her voice as she shrugged off her medkit and moved to a woman lying nearby, unconscious.
"The new wave of personnel from the East Clinic and those who can be spared from the Enterprise should be able to handle most of the remaining casualties. Local physicians are also assisting." The woman finally looked up toward Crusher. She had stabilized her patient and was preparing to move him out of the area.
Crusher finished a scan and looked up. "Well done Lieutenant. I'll take over from here." The two locked gazes for a moment and Innes nodded in silent understanding. She lifted the man by the shoulders and made her way to the back of the lobby, toward the rest of the clinic and away from the thick smoke that hung in the air in the aftermath of the fire.
Crusher stabilized her patient and beamed the woman back to the ship. The emergency lighting was dim in the thick haze, and again she coughed. She could tell whatever was in the smoke was not healthy for her lungs. She estimated she could stay for no more than ten minutes before returning to the ship. She picked her way through overturned equipment and furniture, searching for more victims. She saw a leg protruding from under an enormous internal imaging machine and gracefully climbed over it. She was not in any way ready for the sight that greeted her on the other side.
"Paul." Instantly she was all business. She assessed his injuries critically, clinically. They were extensive. He had compound fractures in his left thigh and forearm, damage to his liver and spleen, as well as internal hemorraging. A metal rod had pierced his chest, and blood was oozing slowly across his blue uniform. He had a severe concussion and was unconscious. "Hold on, Paul."
She tapped her chest insistently. "Crusher to Enterprise. Get Selar down her now!" She popped open her kit. She was unsure whether or not she'd even be able to get him stable enough to transport back to the ship. As she worked Selar materialized next to her. She'd brought another medkit, this one far larger than Crusher's own away version. They'd need it.
"Come on Paul." As the CMO spoke to her unconscious friend, Selar moved to Beverly's side and began working on Paul's head injury. His blood pressure was dropping, and she was unable to bring it back up. His heart rate was erratic, and would become arrhythmic at any moment. Brain scan activity was discouraging. He was losing a lot of blood. "Crusher to Enterprise. Run a match on Paul Wells and get me as much type-specific blood down here as you can in the next minute."
She moved to his leg. His bone had broken through an artery, which is where the majority of bleeding was occurring. She stared at the break grimly, her jaw working tensely. Turning to her kit she grabbed a tourniquet and tied it quickly and violently around his upper thigh. She similarly treated the arm. "Band-aids," she though bitterly. An ensign arrived with a liter of blood. It was a start.
She began the infusion, and it seemed to help. His blood pressure and heart rate leveled out. But there was no telling what would happen when they began treating the primary wound. She and Selar met eyes over Paul's prone body.
"Crusher to Enterprise. Three to beam directly to sickbay." He'd live through transport. But whether or not he'd live through the rest of the day was touch and go.
Crusher and Selar materialized seconds after Paul. In the stark light of sickbay his condition seemed graver. His pallor was blue-grey, and the glint of the steel rod sticking out of his chest seemed even colder. Attendants whirled around the main bed as the two senior physicians worked, casting worried sidelong glances as they treated their own patients. Beverly knew she should leave this to Selar and another attending, but how could she possibly supervise anything as Paul lay clinging to life in her own sickbay?
With the instruments available to them on the ship, attendants were able to quickly repair the fractures to his leg and arm. But his blood pressure began to drop again, and once more his heart began beating erratically. A sense of calm came over Beverly as she began preparing Paul for surgery. The rod has pierced his lung, and was at such an angle that it had also nicked his heart and run through his stomach. The concussion was much more severe than they had initially suspected, and was going to be a problem. It was important to properly anesthetize Wells, but there was no way to tell what the drugs would do to his brain function. What they needed, and what they didn't have, was time to better assess the head wound.
It was a tough call. "Doctor Crusher, shall we proceed with the operation?" Selar regarded her coolly. A million clinical thoughts ran through Beverly's head. The two choices were clear – a risky procedure to save his life, or a stop-gap measure that wouldn't kill Paul immediately, but might result in death or a permanent vegetative state. In the back of her unconscious mind, Beverly wondered what choice the CMO had made on the Stargazer all those years ago when Jack had appeared in front of him. It wasn't just Paul's life in her hands, but Sheila and Matthew's as well. It was not the first crew member with a family she'd faced in this condition, but this time she could not get Matthew's face out of her mind.
"Prep him for OR." Her eyes were deep blue and flinty, her concentration intense. Paul may or may not live – but Beverly would do everything in her power to make sure Sheila would not lose her husband today.