Sicktember Day 13: Appendicitis
Word Count: 1587
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: G/K
Characters: Olivier Mira Armstrong
Warning: NA
Summary: Olivier isn't feeling so well. She really should have gone to Doc sooner.
Notes: I did minimal research. Hopefully nothing is too egregiously wrong!

Appendicitis

"General."

"Hm?" Olivier looked up from the report that she, Miles, and Buccaneer had been going over.

"That's the sixth time you've pressed that spot. Are you alright?"

Miles was looking at her with, what she could read on his usually controlled face, concern. Olivier's eyes traveled to Buccaneer. He looked mildly concerned as well.

"It's nothing," she said dismissively. "I must have pulled something while training."

Truth be told, she hadn't realized that she had been pressing at the place again. It had started hurting a couple of days ago, a dull sort of ache that started around her navel. Recently, it had traveled to her side. She hadn't thought too much of it. Honestly, she had expected the pain to travel to her back, and, eventually, to spread there as her period started. Those were usually painful and difficult, so she had assumed that this was a side effect of that.

The pain had been getting sharper, though.

"Begging the general's pardon," Buccaneer said, "but you didn't show any signs of pulling anything during your training."

"What, were you watching me?" she growled out. "As if you didn't have anything better to do!"

Buccaneer grinned at her, that cheeky grin of his. "You know well, sir, that watching you train is a treat."

She snorted, a harsh snort that started from her belly, and immediately regretted it. It made the pain flare more, and her hand automatically went to it again.

Miles set his report down. "You've not been eating either," he said, with a pointed look at the food that was sitting to the side on her desk. "And you seem to be cold, if the temperature you're keeping it in here means anything."

Olivier scowled. "You're not paid to keep track of my eating habits, Miles. Or monitor the temperature I keep my office."

"He kind of is, sir," Buccaneer said. "But he brings up a good point. Are you feeling alright?"

Olivier's temper flared, and she shot to her feet, suppressing the desire to press on the place again. Standing up like that caused a sharp, stabbing pain to center right on the place, but she refused to show it, letting the pain fuel her irritations and anger instead.

"I'm fine!" she snapped out and turned to head towards the small potbelly stove that was warming the room in the corner. It was warming a teapot, and it was her intention to go over there and pour herself a cup of tea. It would help the nausea she had been experiencing, not that she was going to tell them that.

However, she had barely taken more than three steps before an excruciating pain ripped through her abdomen. She staggered, hands flying to her side, and felt herself dropping to one knee.

"General!"
"General!"

Both Miles and Buccaneer called out to her, and she could hear their footsteps rushing over to her. One of them reached her, hands on her shoulders to help guide her the rest of the way down, and she grit her teeth against the pain, grunts and gasps of it still escaping her. It hurt to move. It hurt to be moved. It hurt to breathe, the pain blocking out her awareness of almost everything else, and what was happening around her was quickly becoming nothing more than a blur.

Buccaneer had made it to General Armstrong first, catching her as she went down, his hands holding her and helping to lower her to the ground. She didn't seem aware of it to either of the men, but instead let out gasps of pain, and curled around her side—around the place she had been pressing on earlier.

Miles, who had also rushed to her side, bolted up and grabbed the phone on her desk. "This is Miles! Get a team from Sickbay up to the General's office immediately!"

He barely waited for the acknowledgement before he was slamming the phone down and heading back to her side. He didn't have to ask anything before Buccaneer was speaking.

He had brushed her hair back, his fingers on her pulse point. "Her pulse is fast and she's hot," he said. "She's in pain." He looked over at Miles. "What happened?"

Miles shook his head. "I don't know."

"Next time, we make her see Doc immediately," Buccaneer growled out.

They both clung to the hope that there would be a next time.

It was only minutes later that footsteps rang in the hallway, voices shouting ahead for people to clear the way. Within minutes Doc was bursting into the room, her medical team on her heels. She wasted no time, heading straight for the general, kneeling at her side.

"What have we got?" she asked brusquely.

"Not sure," Miles said. "She hadn't been complaining of anything, but she acted like she was hurting here, on her right side," he mimed where it had been. "She got up, took about three steps, and then went down."

"She fell slowly, like she was sinking to her knees," Buccaneer said. "I caught her, helped her down, but she's been in pain the whole time."

Doc had her stethoscope out and was taking Olivier's pulse when she realized what Miles and Buccaneer had said. Abandoning that, she reached out for Olivier's right side, looking for the specific area and finding it even though she hadn't been told where to look. She pressed down, and Olivier let out a strangled sort of cry. Doc cursed.

"Load her up," she ordered. "Call ahead and have them prep the OR."

"What's wrong with her?" Miles asked, as he and Buccaneer moved back out of the way of the medical team.

"With what you've described I'm going to guess appendicitis—and there's a likely chance it's ruptured." She shook her head. "I'll let you know more after the surgery. Appendicitis or not, something is going on in there."

"Right."

The two men moved out of the way, letting Doc and her team work, Olivier letting out sounds of pain anytime she was jostled the least little bit. They had her on the litter and whisked away within moments, Doc leading the way.

And then it was just a waiting game.

News spread quickly throughout the fort, and soon all of the men knew. A blanket of concern fell over the fort, something the senior staff of Briggs felt keenly. No one went in to see how Doc was doing. They all knew that she was doing her best, and to interrupt her would be dangerous. But that didn't stop people from hovering outside the door a bit.

Finally, hours later, she sent for Buccaneer and Miles. Doc looked tired when they arrived, but she gave them a smile.

"She'll be fine," she said, and both men relaxed a bit.

"What happened?" Miles asked.

Doc sat in her chair, reaching for the teapot and a cup. "It was like I thought. Appendicitis. And it had ruptured."

"How bad was it?" Buccaneer asked.

Doc shook her head. "Not the worst I've seen, but definitely serious. I removed her appendix, and then I had to clean up her bowels. I had to cut her open a little more than I wanted to, but it was better than getting in infection."

"Is that still a possibility?" Miles asked.

Doc nodded as she poured herself some tea. "It is. I'm going to keep her here for at least a week. She'll give me the usual 'Armstrongs are fast healers' bull, I'm sure, but I don't want her pushing herself too much and I want to watch for infection. You two can keep her busy with paperwork, but nothing strenuous, understand?"

"Yeah, we gotcha, Doc," Buccaneer said.

Doc waved her hand in the direction of the recovery bays. "You can see her when you want to. I don't expect her to be awake for a few hours, at least."

The men both nodded and then, with a look, they headed back to check on her.

They were both there a few hours later when Olivier began to stir.

"Mm… what happened?" she asked groggily.

"You're in sickbay, General," Miles said. "You collapsed in your office. Your appendix burst. Doc had to do surgery. You're going to be alright."

For a moment, Olivier said nothing. And then she sighed. "Well, this is going to slow down our plans by a couple of days."

Buccaneer snorted. "Doc said that you're going to be laid up here for a week."

"A week?" Olivier snarled. She started to try to sit up, but quickly aborted the motion. "Armstrongs are fast healers. I'll—"

Buccaneer grinned at her. "Doc said that you'd say that."

"She was firm on what she said," Miles said. "And I can't say I disagree."

Olivier glared at him.

"However," he continued, "I'm sure that as long as you're resting, Doc won't object to some paperwork."

Olivier let out a light snort. "…We'll see," she said.

"In the meantime, rest, General. We'll keep watch on the Fort."

Olivier narrowed her eyes. "You had better."

Buccaneer grinned at her. "You know we will, sir."

Olivier just hurmphed and rested back into the bed.

"Catch me up. What's happened while I was out."

Miles and Buccaneer began filling her in on the little that had happened while she had been unconscious, and Doc, listening in, let them be. Olivier's men knew her well, and they would keep her in bed while she healed.

Looking out for each other was the Briggs way, after all.