((USS Albion - Trauma Room 1))
::Having received the call that haunts the dreams of everyone in teal, Mirra sprinted as soon as the lift doors opened enough for her frame to slip through. She arrived through in Sickbay just moments after the mobile gurney. Stopping outside of the surgical ward, she hastily stripped her lab-coat and briskly walked through the bio-filters, finally to step into the room, arms outstretched. Within moments, she was scrubbed up and mask in place. Time to go.
She listened intently while various members of the trauma unit called out numbers and codes. Having read the preliminary report, one would expect to be prepared for the scene in front of her. Blood was everywhere, fresh blood, pouring from a mangled, mass of muscle, bone and scale where his arm had once been. His uniform was being cut away at the same time that frantic actions were being taken to stem the bleed. Mirra fought hard against her emotional instinct that would bring her to her knees. It wasn't time for that, and she would be damned before she'd allow that be the final outcome. Steeling herself, she locked eyes with the Trauma team lead.::
Ezo: ::sharply:: Status report.
Trauma Medic: We've got a massive bleed, as you can see. He's flatlined on us twice, we've had to intubate. Shrapnel is fused to his clothes causing removal to be halted. If we're not careful, we're going to strip his scales along with his uniform.
Ezo: Understood. Be as careful as you can, but remember, we don't need him pretty, we need him breathing.
::Flatlined. Twice. She refused to dwell on that update any further. It had no room in her headspace, clouding things up and getting in the way of her work. Grasping the readied medical device, Mirra began to scan the arterial perforation caused by the violent loss of limb. She had barely begun the arduous task of repairing the perforation when the alarms blared.::
Nurse: He's going into shock!
Ezo: ::glancing up to the readout:: Give me twenty units of blood, find an intact vein and get it flowing.
::Still engrossed in her task of stemming the massive blood flow, Mirra was keeping equal attention to his BPH readings. If they weren't careful, they shock of the tremendous loss of blood was going to take it's toll. She had to stop the bleeding.
Nurse: Twenty units pumping, BPH is dropping, reflecting bradycardia. He's loosing more than we can pump in Doc.
Ezo: ::gritting her teeth:: Keep it pumping, watch that cardiac monitor, and someone get me subdermal scalpel, now!
::The room was a flurry of hands, and moving bodies. The beeping kept getting slower, erratic, the bleeding wasn't stemming. It seemed his body was pumping out directly what they were desperately pumping in. Her eyes zeroed in on a secondary bleed, hidden by the first. Then another...and yet again, another. The force of which removed his arm had exposed a lot of what should be covered. Layers of scales and muscle were just...gone. Blood poured from deeper inside the ragged wound that was her current advisory.::
Ezo: Give me fifteen more units!
::Her eyes shot up in bewilderment. Out? They can't be out. How could they be out??::
Ezo: HOW are we out?
::She let out a barrage of very unladylike curses before getting a handle on the catastrophic complication.::
Ezo: Get to the replicator, have it working double time. Get me fifty units. Until then, give him twenty CCs of saline. Get something into him before we los-
::The alarm blared. It was happening. He was going into arrest. Calling out the order, everyone backed off instantly as the cardiostimulator descended. They all stood back. Waiting for the flatline to be replaced by steady, even beeps. She'd take uneven, barely noticeable beeps over that blaring constant note. One application. No change. Second application. No frakking change. To her left, she saw a medic glancing at the chronometer above the bed.::
Ezo: DO NOT. We aren't done here. You understand me??
::The medic jolted in place. It wasn't necessarily a wrong call, but right now? it was the worst call of his career. Mirra lost track of the applications, the angry constant blare of the machine being the only sound. She wasn't giving up. She refused. It may have been just minutes, it felt like hours, but...it happened. One bleep. Silence, then the second.
They gave no time to rejoice as they all sprung back into action. Tools in hand, shrapnel being removed, sutures being applied, three more orders of blood, a half a dozen close calls, and a never ceasing team fighting hard against the odds.
And somehow...the scales seemed to be tipping in the favor of the scaled Marine. Piles of twisted metal pulled from his body littered the trays beside them, discarded tubing and empty bags that once held the newly replicated blood fell to the floor to be quickly replaced by a full one. Having finally managed to stop the major bleed, Mirra was working to cauterize the minor irrupted vessels in an attempt to get his vitals regulated. Her focus was grabbed by a sudden blare of an alarm.::
Ezo: He's going tachy, talk to me people..
Medic: He's coming around Doc, orders?
::This was great news...just poorly timed. As hard has they fought to bring him back, he was making his arrival too early, and if not careful, they were setting themselves up to lose him all over again. oO Last thing we need his for him to be ripping out tubes and sutures. Or going for a throat with his good hand...Forgive me for this...Oo::
Ezo: Knock him out.
::Order given, in a flash the medic returned with a hypo prepped and ready. It was administered swiftly, and his vitals began to stabilize within moments. While she finalized the last of the repairs to the ruptured blood vessels, and moving on to repairing the little remaining musculature and outer tissue, she reflected briefly on the conversation she would have to have when he awoke.
And he was going to be waking up. Gorn and Klingon alike may find honor in a warriors death, but Mirra viewed death more as a professional rival. One, who in this instance, she was damn determined to beat. Finally, they reached stabilization. Final sutures applied, bandages wrapped, IV fluids changed, and vitals confirmed. They were out of critical and coasting along stable. He was moved out of the Trauma room to ICU, to be monitored closely in case the tides would change...But for now? He made it. Even better, when Mirra finally removed the surgical glove and took hold of his hand, she felt him. He was in there. With a brittle smile, gave his hand a firm squeeze.::
Ezo: ::quietly:: There you are...
Lieutenant Mirra Ezo, MDChief Medical Officer Starbase 118 OpsC239205ME0