Posted by Lieutenant Surra Almikaz (Chief of Psychiatry) in Side Sim [Counseling Suite]: Checking In… Because It Can’t Be Avoided, Can It?

Posted by Ensign Caelian Weir (Engineer) in Side Sim [Counseling Suite]: Checking In… Because It Can’t Be Avoided, Can It?

Posted by Lieutenant Surra Almikaz (Chief of Psychiatry) in Side Sim [Counseling Suite]: Checking In… Because It Can’t Be Avoided, Can It?
Posted by… suppressed (7) by the Post Ghost! 👻

—SNIP—

Surra put both her hands on her mouth and quickly tried to wipe away anything that was left behind then she briefly shook both hands at the same time.
“No, no it’s alright, come in, please. I will not shake your hand though as one, I have just touched my mouth and two apparently there is this virus going around that improves one’s vitals and put them in a pleasant state of mind.” She did the quote motion with her fingers to emphasize the last four words of her sentence. “Doesn’t sound too bad right? The thing is I have not learned what happens after the virus runs its course so …. you know.”

Caelian gave her a bewildered look, followed by a soft smile as he dropped his hand back to his side. “So it’s not airborne, then. That’s good, yes? Though I’m honestly surprised you’re on-duty being sick without a clear understanding. Then again, this is a medical ship so I’d imagine someone’s not far if things go sideways.”

Surra looked at him, frowned and said, “I am not infected, Mr. Weir, I was just saying.....” Not finishing her sentence and rolling her eyes,
She picked up the remaining cheesecake, dropped it in the waste basket, and then motioned with right her hand for him to follow her, “Come on. We will go into my office. What’s going on with you?” She was scrolling on her PADD quickly trying to read his file as they walked, “I see you have seen a lot of action AND close calls while on duty. How are coping with that?”

Almikaz, Psychiatrist

When they reached her office, she dropped the PADD on her desk and then sat in the comfy stationary swivel chair she requested be installed after taking the COP position. The old one had been worn and it had been time for an upgrade.

And there it is, right out the door, he thought bitterly to himself. His smile thinned a bit, but Caelian managed to hold onto it. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Injury was the first thing to address when a team member came back to the field in Engineering, so why not in mental health? The ensign looked about the office as he mulled the question over in his head. He sat where indicated, took an extra breath to get comfortable. He guessed that, when things really got rolling, he’d be there for a while.

“I’d like to say I’m coping as well as anyone else,” he replied finally, slowly. “These are the kinds of things Starfleet trains us for, after all. You can’t be aboard an organized ship in deep space without having a tritanium-coated spine. A hundred thousand things can go wrong during a mission, and people are counting on you to give your best. That’s why we have the Academy, career paths, practice drills, and all that: to maintain readiness.”

Caelian leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together thoughtfully beneath his chin. His eyes shifted to that unknown middle distance, that introspective space that held all the questions and none of the answers. “But all of that readiness flies out the airlock when things are actually happening. During those practice runs, you have a veil of safety; in the field that safety doesn’t exist. Years of practice and experience can just… vanish. And once those events are done with you, they leave their mark on you.”

He felt his left arm tense sympathetically, could feel the memory of jagged duranium gnawing at the interstice between radius and ulna. Wrapping his fingers about his wrist until the phantom sensation slipped away, he sighed. Even after going over the events repeatedly in his mind or talking to the psychiatrists on Starbase 187, parts of it still felt raw to him. Shaking his head again, Caelian smiled faintly.

“The nightmares aren’t as bad now, and it helps that my father was in service and had his fair share of narrow scrapes,” he continued, a little less rattled. “It helps to know that he understands, even if all we do sometimes is talk about the latest technical journals. Mama is more interested in discussing my future instead of my past—‘What happened to you and that pretty science officer, Cael?’ or ‘I’d like some grandchildren before I’m too old to take them on digs, Cael!’—but I imagine that’s what a mother does.”
—Caelian Weir, Engineer—

She listened without interrupting him, elbows on the desk and the fingertips of each hand touching each other.
After he finished talking, she placed both hands flat on her desk and said, “I have a few questions for you, but the first thing I would like to talk about is you said “The nightmares aren’t as bad”. What did you mean by that? More importantly how bad did your nightmares get?”

Almikaz, Counselor

“Well, when I wasn’t so loaded down with pain inhibitors that all I did was sleep,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair a bit, “I’d wake up in a blind panic, already on my feet in a cold sweat. Adrenaline pumping, waiting for the deck to rock under my feet or the bulkhead to blow outward and take me with it. Some nights it took me a few minutes of consciousness before I stopped seeing traces of my nightmares superimposed on my quarters. The ol’ lizard brain reflex, expecting the Bad Thing to happen again, I guess.”

He shrugged absently. “Lately it’s just been the quick jerk out of sleep, usually when I sleep wrong or something aches. Nothing too worrisome, I’d think.”
—Caelian Weir, Engineer—

“I’ll be the judge of how “worrisome” your situation is,” she said as she smiled and tapped her pad.
She looked at him for the first time noticing his unusual violet eyes, “You are clearly suffering from some residual trauma, PTSD even, but your easy-going attitude is allowing you to cope in your own way. However, I am worried, not because I think you are incapable of doing your job. Clearly, your service record is exemplary and you are the kind of officer with the skills we want and need in Starfleet, but I am worried about the impact these close encounters have had on your mental state. At any point in your career, you may have to relive all the trauma you experienced again. As you know, being an engineer in Starfleet is not much different from being a security officer. Your work is going to expose you to more danger than others.”
She stood up and walked around her desk, sat on the edge, and said, “Let me ask you this if you were to have another close brush with death, Mr. Weir, how do you think you would hold up? I have my own assumption but I want to hear yours.”

Almikaz, Counselor

He watched her, his face placid. Now this is a different tact, Caelian noted at the casual proximity. Every psychiatrist and doctor had their own manner, a way of approaching a situation. Some tried to crush him beneath their intellect or knowledge, cow him with authority and expect the ensign to fall in line. Others seemed blithely ignorant, barraging him with a hundred thousand different questions until he was so turned around he found himself at the answer as if by magick… but mostly crafty manipulation and self-realization. Still others kept their distance, using logic and cold apathy to pick him apart and back together like a lab experiment. A very rare few had almost been as invested in his journey as he for reasons he never understood.

“Honestly?” Caelian paused for a moment, studying her face. “An optimist would say that I’ve learned from the experience and it’s prepared me for the next time, assuming that there is one. A pessimist would say that there’s no preparing for a crisis. But I’m a realist, pragmatic. Probably what makes me reliable at my job. I kept my head, managed to survive and come ahead. But that’s all, and that’s as much as anyone can ever expect from life. Even if another incident happened the exact same way, there’s no guarantee I’d come out any better or worse than I have. Even career captains can make mistakes, and I’ve got to accept the risks just like anyone else in Starfleet.”

The engineer’s smile softened, but also seemed a touch more genuine. “Truth is, senorina, I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve been dealt. I can’t place a safe bet on the future; only fools do, and I don’t fancy myself one of those—much as some might say otherwise. But what I can say is that I’m here now, willing to try. To take another risk. Gotta be worth something, eh?”
—Caelian Weir, Engineer—

Surra smiled. She loved the bits of Italian he threw into his speech. There was no need to be worried, this man clearly had the aptitude for handling his stress and demons.
“It’s worth a lot and I must say I am impressed, Mr. Weir, with how you assessed your situation from both sides of the spectrum. Not many people have the capability or the mental capacity to do that. I’d say you are doing way better than most despite what you have been dealt. I also appreciate the fact that you are not naïve. You understand that danger is real, and you can…may possibly be in a situation where you are fighting for your life again. But that does not seem to have too much of a negative impact on you. You are willing to accept it.”

He nodded slowly, relaxing a bit. Admittedly, he’d been concerned that her line of questioning would have landed him at the feet of disembarkation. Caelian still did not understand why he’d been posted to a medical ship instead of a vessel of exploration, but maybe this was Starfleet’s middle ground: he was fit enough to serve, but it needed to be on a vessel capable of observing him. An interim step, as it were. His father had always cautioned him against sudden changes in career paths, and to accept it. In fact, now that he gave it some more thought Caelian’s parents were both pragmatists, likely contributing to his own realistic views.

Still sitting on the desk, she twisted around and picked up her PADD. “Your insomnia and anxiety worry me a little, so I am going temporarily issue you a sedative and mood stabilizer to help you sleep and suppress your dreams. I want you to get a good night’s sleep without waking up in terror. After a few months on the medication, your brain should adjust, your nightmares should decrease and hopefully diminish in the brain like all bad memories eventually do. I will have you return to me in a few months. At that time, we will reassess your situation and see how the medication is working for you.”

Caelian nodded again, watching her from a more relaxed view. She was good, at least good enough that he didn’t immediately hate the idea of having to come back. Hopefully by then he’d have settled in, gotten to know more of the crew than just his work team. But he’d tinker with that conduit when he reached it; right now, he needed to focus on setting up a routine and slowly getting back to work. A good night’s sleep did sound wonderful, though, assuming he didn’t have issues with his arm or back.

She looked at him and said, “You are an amazing engineer, and we want to make sure you stay that way. I know you are going to rise in rank quickly. Let’s make sure you are ready for it. Okay?”

She slid off the desk, stood there in front of him, and said, “Do you have any questions for me or anything else you want to discuss?”

Almikaz, CoP

“How about lunch?”

It was an awkward question and out of his mouth before he’d realized he’d said it. It lingered curiously between them for an eternal moment, his face holding the casual smile so hard Caelian thought it might crack from the strain. Ringing in his ears and resounding along the corridors of his imagination, the ensign hurtled along behind it trying to take it back. He couldn’t imagine how it might have sounded to her, might as well have been in an alien language even to him. But it was out there now, loose in the aether like a particle of antimatter without containment, and it had to be properly channeled with context.

If Mal had been here, he’d have died from laughter. Caelian could feel the heat of embarrassment smoldering beneath his collar. Why was it so blasted hot in here all of a sudden? I’ll have to come back, check on the environmental controls.

“Scuse, I didn’t mean that as unprofessionally as it might have sounded,” Caelian stammered, holding up his hands defensively. “I-I’m simply asking as one crewmate to another, and lunch seems a perfectly casual time to talk. I always like to learn more about who I’m serving with, get a lay of the land. Maybe even make a few friends that don’t involve multiphasic spanners and polymagnetic attenuaters.”
—Caelian Weir, Engineer—