Posted by Lieutenant Kreed (Chief Medical Officer) in Side-Sim: Physically Unwilling (Tag CMO)

Posted by Lieutenant Kreed (Chief Medical Officer) in Side-Sim: Physically Unwilling (Tag CMO)

Posted by Lieutenant Kreed (Chief Medical Officer) in Side-Sim: Physically Unwilling (Tag CMO)
Posted by… suppressed (9) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Whoever decided that physicals needed to be done every year deserved to be punched in the face. And Kovan would volunteer for the job. The surly communications and engineering swing officer had delayed his physical for as long as possible. Used every trick in the book, and even flirted with tampering the data files to skip the annual event entirely. He ended up not going to such lengths, but for a long while he somehow managed to be busy with emergency repairs, or in the middle of critical projects every time he was scheduled. Forcing a reschedule further and further out. Then the XO and Rand got wise to his plan and told him he better make his next appointment in no uncertain terms.

So that’s how Kovan finally arrived for his physical. Scowling and ready to glare at whoever was unfortunate enough to make eye contact with him.

En ch’Sirhc COMMO/ENGR

The place was hopping. Busier than it had been in recent memory. A nurse looked up and then immediately away. “Ensign. The Doctor will be with you momentarily. Please have a seat on biobed six.” and she pointed to an unoccupied bed with a stylus.

Kovan got comfortable on the biobed. Sitting on the end, his elbows rested on his knees and head hung as the actively worked to drown out the sounds of the sickbay and the dozens of conversations going on around him. Ugh, he hated this place when it was busy.

A few minutes passed and then a reptilian Saurian walked up to the bed and looked at the readout. “Ensign ch’Sirhc, I am Lieutenant Kreed. Thank you for making your sixth appointment. I’m sure you can see we have a lot going on and trying to continually reschedule people tales time away from other tasks. I trust it will not be an issue going forward.” He made a few notes and then his large black eyes fixed on ch’Sirhc. “Since You last physical, have you had any significant changes in your health that were not reported previously?”

Kreed, CMO

Kovan lifted his head and shrugged, “Stuff kept popping up. You don’t stop working on a plasma leak becuase you need a doctor tell you you’re healthy.” He wouldn’t have been here right now if Rand and Roman hadn’t conspired against him. “I’ll try. My schedule as a swing officer can get hectic.” The man worked as much as physically possible, somtimes pulling triple shifts if he’s feeling particularlly spiteful towards himself. “None that I’m aware of,” Kovan answered, bored.

En ch’Sirhc

“The next time something ‘pops up’, inform us.” the CMO replied without looking at him, just the readouts. “If you don’t, I will mark your record as ‘Temporarily Unfit for Duty’ which will lock you out of all systems. Not the most efficient manner to get crew members to comply with their mandatory screenings; but it is effective.” and for only the second time looked at him. “I trust that will not be necessary going forward, Ensign.” It was said as if it were a fact, not a request. “Now lay back, please. If everything is in order I should have you done in just a few minutes.”

Kreed, CMO

Oh. That’s dirty. Kovan thought, a scowl on his face. Dirty and effective. Damn him. Kovan waved a hand, too annoyed to properlly answer. He laid back, already over this mandatory screening. Kovan was more or less in good health. The readings showed signs of chronic stress, overworked muscles from exercise not given enough time to rest and elevated levels of brain activity usually attributed to a lack of sleep in Andorians. Nerve damage in his hands that got initial treatment and then nothing else. In other words, he may be healthy now but eventually he’s going to wear his body down until it wasn’t.

En ch’Sirhc COMMO/ENGR

Kreed made several notes and rhen set the notepad aside before fixing his gaze squarely on the Andorian. “Tell me, Ensign. Do you like your job? Do you wish to continue it at the, hopefully, high level of acco.pliahmwnt that you currently perform at? And a second follow up question: do you wish to remain in Star Fleet?” he asked directly and firmly.

Kreed, CMO

“What kind of question is that?” Kovan groused from his supine position, “If I didn’t like the work I wouldn’t be here,” Life’s too short to do work you hate. Kovan wouldn’t work multiple shifts in a row if he didn’t enjoy the work on some level. As for the other question. He was either in Starfleet or dead, so, not really much of a question. “What’s with the questions? If it’s all the same I’d like to get back to work.”

En ch’Sirhc COMMO/ENGR

Kreed looked at the readouts and said “What’s with the questions Lieutenant. If it’s all the same I’d like to get back to work sir.” His sxaled head snapped around and black eyes locked on ch’Sirhc. “If you wish to do away with normal formalities such as those used when addressing a superior officer, Ensign, then I would suggest you check your attitude at the door of my Sickbay.” His head turned back and he paused as he looked at something.

Kreed took a breath. “The reason for my questions, Ensign,-” he said, stressing the rank again. “- is because you are working yourself into a medical discharge. You have failed to complete the treatments prescribed for tthe nerve damage to your hands, you are severely fatigued and incredibly overworked… which judging from your record and your attitude is something if your own doing.” Black eyes once again locked onto the Andorian and he said “So again I ask… do you like your job and do you wish to continue doing it in Star Fleet?”

Kreed, CMO

Kovan startled as though slapped. Instinctively raising his hands in defense. Stars above, he’d gotten too lax, too comfortable to notice he’d been slipping. This was Starfleet not some backward cargo hauler that paid half you wages in alcohol. “Apologies, sir,” Kovan looked away, hands tight at his side. He bit back every comment and complaint despite the frustration write across his face. “The pain went away and my hands were fine, sir. I work so much because that’s what’s best for me mentally.” There’s no talking his way out of this one. Kovan scowled at the ceiling, knowing you’re in a pit you dug yourself and being happy about it were two entirely separate things. “I didn’t lie, sir, I like my job and would like to stay in Starfleet.”

En ch’Sirhc COMMO/ENGR

Kreed regarded him a moment and then said “Fine.” He made a few notes in ch’Sirhc’s record and then set the file aside. “First we will schedule your physical therapy to ensure your hands are fully functional and have no lasting damage. Also. Beginning today, unless otherwise directed by your supervisor, you are not cleared to work more than your normal shift. You will keep an accurate sleep journal for the next ninety days. If the results of your physical at that time do not one: reflect an accurate result of your journal entries; or two: show a marked improvement in your overall well being… then I will meet with your department head and we will discuss a six-month light duty order coupled with regular psychotherapy.” Two sets of eyelids, one vertical and one horizontal blinked at him. “So you see it is your choice. Begin taking care of yourself so that you can do your job consistently with minimal risk to you… or you don’t work until I decide you are capable of doing so. Now… which will it be, Ensign?”

Kreed, CMO

Kovan grit his teeth and stayed quiet as the doctor outlined all his “treatments”. Physical therapy he could tolerate but the rest might as well have been perscribed torture. Complete with a threat of light duty and psychotherapy thrown in at the end. Might as well be his death sentence because the moment a headshrink started poking around in his head then they’re going to consider him unfit for duty for a slew of things that shouldn’t even matter to begin with. Starfleet was the only ship fleet out there that cared if you had unresolved trauma from childhood or an absent parent as some kind of medical emergency that you needed taken care of before you can go back to your regular job.

“The first option. . . sir,” Single shifts and sleep journal. This was going to be absolutely miserable.

En ch’Sirhc