Veritas Ratio (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alabaster_erudite) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pluviosa2024-06-13 04:53 pm
alabaster_erudite) wrote in pluviosa2024-06-13 04:53 pm
[OPEN] The Doctor's In
Who: Ratio and WHOEVER (open to all!)
What: Ratio has found the Medical Rooms while settling into his own room nearby, so he’s organizing the contents and familiarizing himself with the equipment there as well as doing a bit of clean up.
Where: R3 "Tomato" Deck, MEDICAL rooms
When: Day 6+
Warnings: medical shenanigans
On the forward suites of Deck R3, one of the doors is cracked open ever so slightly, and—
Early Bird Gets The Worm (early morning of Day 6)
Veritas was returning from his repeated excursion around the ship’s interior to familiarize himself with its surroundings. Admittedly, he had overexerted himself, having been so active on his first couple of days finding himself here in this strange ship. He felt his mind muddle and grow sluggish as his exhaustion caught up to him. He received his key card only a day after arriving, choosing to forgo sleep in favor of exploring the available levels of the ship for a multitude of reasons in all honesty.
But his body is only mere flesh. And he has to recuperate eventually.
So imagine his surprise when he finds a room starkly labeled “MEDICAL” next to his suite. His dull and aching mind races with possibilities, but alas, he has to rest or else he’d be of no use to himself much less anyone else with these new found resources at his disposal.
And with a short, dreamless slumber, he rises just as quickly as he falls into rest. Sleeping for only five hours if he was being generous. Four hours and 48 minutes to be exact if he had the system hours correct. But alas, he couldn’t fall back asleep so easily despite the fact it was too early in the morning to even see daylight yet.
Ah well, there’s no need to force himself to sleep if he can’t. He shrugs off the chill he feels run down his spine when he imagines sleeping long enough to dream. It’s not like he feels entirely comfortable with the thought of sleeping so indolently anyways. Not with his persistent malady of insomnia nor after the events of Penacony.
He gets up, rolling his shoulders in a vain effort to shake off the weariness that still clung to his bones. At least his mind feels sharper than it did before though still burdened by the pulsing pain of a mild headache. Not in perfect condition, but enough to get started on a.. new project to put it simply.
Veritas exits and shuts the door to his suite. Then makes a beeline to the Medical room. He almost wants to laud the ship’s foresight for putting him so close to the clinical facilities.
Without the haste that followed his footsteps into the makeshift clinic, he takes stock of amenities available with practiced ease. He quickly finds that his key card can open up cabinets to prescriptions, properly labeled with instructions attached, and can gain access to a synthesizer like device. From experimental tests, he realizes he can make specific scripts for personal use, like an oral triptan for severe, acute migraine treatment. Something to note for future use. He pops a pill into his mouth and moves to check the other features here. Perfect time as any to test out the efficacy and veracity of the functions here since he woke up with an early onset migraine just now. He’ll mentally note his before and after responses within an hour or two from now.
Proper bedding, check. Lack of curtains to maintain privacy, he’ll have to see if the supplies room on the lower deck could provide some extra blankets and ties for that. A desk and chair for record keeping, check. And as for the cabinets…
— shuffling noises rings out from within the room along with audible humph’s and ha’s as the doctor scrutinizes the contents of each container before reorganizing them into an order he sees fit, deep in thought and focused on the task at hand.
Familiar Respite (any day after Day 6)
Trips between his suite room and the Medical Room are becoming a habit now. Compared to when he first found them, it looks more put together and lived in to a degree. More often than not, Dr. Ratio could be found in the makeshift clinics on the Tomato Deck than in his own personal suite room, cataloguing inventory and making improvements he deemed necessary as he took stock of the facilities.
With time came experience in what was available and what wasn’t, which had a streamlined set of procedures in place looking for alternatives if the original resource was unobtainable. And with experience came familiarity and a semblance of peace as he found himself in his element amongst medicine cabinets and maintained sterility.
Sleep still didn’t come easy to the doctor. Not by a long shot. Though frankly speaking, it’s nowhere near as bad as the first day he came in here and started this passion project and necessity on behalf of the other passengers of the ship having known the risks of exploring uncharted territory where other powers reside.
His body had gotten used to the short sleep cycle his circadian rhythm had been set to, never falling into a sleep quite deep enough to have vivid dreams nor restful sleep. He coped with the occasional power nap in places where people wouldn’t interrupt but noticed they became too frequent to allow room for progress and thus picked up cups of coffee as a booster. He could make do with a timely dose of caffeine and maybe some combination analgesics to stave away the drowsiness and frequent headaches.
And that was more than enough to allow him to focus on the papers in front of him now. The inventory report was drafted up relatively easily, but he still had to make sure the patient charts would be easily maintained and organized for repeated use. High readability was important too. In case he couldn’t be there to help patients understand their own charts. While the ship could record a patient’s medical information and history within its data banks on their personal key card, Veritas is more than skeptical that the ship’s programing included a strict adherence of HIPPA and Principles of Medical Ethics within its code of hospitality towards passengers of a luxury cruise ship.
— it’s while he sits comfortably at the desk in a rolling chair with his legs crossed, pen and clipboard in hand, that the faint, hollow sound of a pen rapidly scratching over paper emanates from within the room. And if anyone strains their ears, they might hear the soft, low drone of the doctor humming a tune to himself.
Wildcard!
(hit me up on Discord if you have any other ideas in mind, I’m all ears)
What: Ratio has found the Medical Rooms while settling into his own room nearby, so he’s organizing the contents and familiarizing himself with the equipment there as well as doing a bit of clean up.
Where: R3 "Tomato" Deck, MEDICAL rooms
When: Day 6+
Warnings: medical shenanigans
On the forward suites of Deck R3, one of the doors is cracked open ever so slightly, and—
Early Bird Gets The Worm (early morning of Day 6)
Veritas was returning from his repeated excursion around the ship’s interior to familiarize himself with its surroundings. Admittedly, he had overexerted himself, having been so active on his first couple of days finding himself here in this strange ship. He felt his mind muddle and grow sluggish as his exhaustion caught up to him. He received his key card only a day after arriving, choosing to forgo sleep in favor of exploring the available levels of the ship for a multitude of reasons in all honesty.
But his body is only mere flesh. And he has to recuperate eventually.
So imagine his surprise when he finds a room starkly labeled “MEDICAL” next to his suite. His dull and aching mind races with possibilities, but alas, he has to rest or else he’d be of no use to himself much less anyone else with these new found resources at his disposal.
And with a short, dreamless slumber, he rises just as quickly as he falls into rest. Sleeping for only five hours if he was being generous. Four hours and 48 minutes to be exact if he had the system hours correct. But alas, he couldn’t fall back asleep so easily despite the fact it was too early in the morning to even see daylight yet.
Ah well, there’s no need to force himself to sleep if he can’t. He shrugs off the chill he feels run down his spine when he imagines sleeping long enough to dream. It’s not like he feels entirely comfortable with the thought of sleeping so indolently anyways. Not with his persistent malady of insomnia nor after the events of Penacony.
He gets up, rolling his shoulders in a vain effort to shake off the weariness that still clung to his bones. At least his mind feels sharper than it did before though still burdened by the pulsing pain of a mild headache. Not in perfect condition, but enough to get started on a.. new project to put it simply.
Veritas exits and shuts the door to his suite. Then makes a beeline to the Medical room. He almost wants to laud the ship’s foresight for putting him so close to the clinical facilities.
Without the haste that followed his footsteps into the makeshift clinic, he takes stock of amenities available with practiced ease. He quickly finds that his key card can open up cabinets to prescriptions, properly labeled with instructions attached, and can gain access to a synthesizer like device. From experimental tests, he realizes he can make specific scripts for personal use, like an oral triptan for severe, acute migraine treatment. Something to note for future use. He pops a pill into his mouth and moves to check the other features here. Perfect time as any to test out the efficacy and veracity of the functions here since he woke up with an early onset migraine just now. He’ll mentally note his before and after responses within an hour or two from now.
Proper bedding, check. Lack of curtains to maintain privacy, he’ll have to see if the supplies room on the lower deck could provide some extra blankets and ties for that. A desk and chair for record keeping, check. And as for the cabinets…
— shuffling noises rings out from within the room along with audible humph’s and ha’s as the doctor scrutinizes the contents of each container before reorganizing them into an order he sees fit, deep in thought and focused on the task at hand.
Familiar Respite (any day after Day 6)
Trips between his suite room and the Medical Room are becoming a habit now. Compared to when he first found them, it looks more put together and lived in to a degree. More often than not, Dr. Ratio could be found in the makeshift clinics on the Tomato Deck than in his own personal suite room, cataloguing inventory and making improvements he deemed necessary as he took stock of the facilities.
With time came experience in what was available and what wasn’t, which had a streamlined set of procedures in place looking for alternatives if the original resource was unobtainable. And with experience came familiarity and a semblance of peace as he found himself in his element amongst medicine cabinets and maintained sterility.
Sleep still didn’t come easy to the doctor. Not by a long shot. Though frankly speaking, it’s nowhere near as bad as the first day he came in here and started this passion project and necessity on behalf of the other passengers of the ship having known the risks of exploring uncharted territory where other powers reside.
His body had gotten used to the short sleep cycle his circadian rhythm had been set to, never falling into a sleep quite deep enough to have vivid dreams nor restful sleep. He coped with the occasional power nap in places where people wouldn’t interrupt but noticed they became too frequent to allow room for progress and thus picked up cups of coffee as a booster. He could make do with a timely dose of caffeine and maybe some combination analgesics to stave away the drowsiness and frequent headaches.
And that was more than enough to allow him to focus on the papers in front of him now. The inventory report was drafted up relatively easily, but he still had to make sure the patient charts would be easily maintained and organized for repeated use. High readability was important too. In case he couldn’t be there to help patients understand their own charts. While the ship could record a patient’s medical information and history within its data banks on their personal key card, Veritas is more than skeptical that the ship’s programing included a strict adherence of HIPPA and Principles of Medical Ethics within its code of hospitality towards passengers of a luxury cruise ship.
— it’s while he sits comfortably at the desk in a rolling chair with his legs crossed, pen and clipboard in hand, that the faint, hollow sound of a pen rapidly scratching over paper emanates from within the room. And if anyone strains their ears, they might hear the soft, low drone of the doctor humming a tune to himself.
Wildcard!
(hit me up on Discord if you have any other ideas in mind, I’m all ears)
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