Medical File for Galan tr'Delatham

USS Rhode Island, Counselor's Office
January 12th, 2387

After hearing the news of his home planets destruction, Galan found that his tea collection provided him with less comfort than usual. He thought about taking his frustration and sorrow out on a few aliens, violently, but promptly pushed the idea out of his mind. In desperate need of some sort of outlet, the Romulan ended up brewing one of his tea mixes with a spice that induced hallucinogenic effects on Vulcanoids. It was the first time he had tried it, and it didn't turn out too well. He ended up fighting off terrors in his sleep and hitting his head when waking up in a sweat. The impact left him bruised and bloody just above the left eyebrow, and momentarily disoriented. Once he came to his senses, he knew he needed to go to Sickbay. That, and some good lies about what had happened to him.

When he stepped into the Sickbay, he turned his head and noticed that the half-dozen diagnostic beds arranged around the room were all unoccupied.

"Doctor? Is anyone here?" he said as he wiped at the blood on his forehead.

<tag>

USS Rhode Island, Counselor's Office
January 12th, 2387

After hearing the news of his home planets destruction, Galan found that his tea collection provided him with less comfort than usual. He thought about taking his frustration and sorrow out on a few aliens, violently, but promptly pushed the idea out of his mind. In desperate need of some sort of outlet, the Romulan ended up brewing one of his tea mixes with a spice that induced hallucinogenic effects on Vulcanoids. It was the first time he had tried it, and it didn't turn out too well. He ended up fighting off terrors in his sleep and hitting his head when waking up in a sweat. The impact left him bruised and bloody just above the left eyebrow, and momentarily disoriented. Once he came to his senses, he knew he needed to go to Sickbay. That, and some good lies about what had happened to him.

When he stepped into the Sickbay, he turned his head and noticed that the half-dozen diagnostic beds arranged around the room were all unoccupied.

"Doctor? Is anyone here?" he said as he wiped at the blood on his forehead.

Fletcher rose from his desk and stepped into the main sickbay, his medical staff seemingly having gone off on a meal break. He really needed to put a forcefield on the door to keep them from leaving.

"Centurion?" he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Galan's face. He picking up a medical tricorder and a dermal re-generator, scanning the wound. "Nothing serious, but a faint trace of an unusual chemical compound in your bloodstream," he noted as he started to close the wound with the re-generator. He waited to see what Galan chose to report, focusing on healing the wound.

<tag>

[[OOC: sorry for such the long delay! Finally back to full steam and off weird shift work]]

USS Rhode Island, Sickbay
January 12th, 2387

After hearing the news of his home planets destruction, Galan found that his tea collection provided him with less comfort than usual. He thought about taking his frustration and sorrow out on a few aliens, violently, but promptly pushed the idea out of his mind. In desperate need of some sort of outlet, the Romulan ended up brewing one of his tea mixes with a spice that induced hallucinogenic effects on Vulcanoids. It was the first time he had tried it, and it didn't turn out too well. He ended up fighting off terrors in his sleep and hitting his head when waking up in a sweat. The impact left him bruised and bloody just above the left eyebrow, and momentarily disoriented. Once he came to his senses, he knew he needed to go to Sickbay. That, and some good lies about what had happened to him.

When he stepped into the Sickbay, he turned his head and noticed that the half-dozen diagnostic beds arranged around the room were all unoccupied.

"Doctor? Is anyone here?" he said as he wiped at the blood on his forehead.

Fletcher rose from his desk and stepped into the main sickbay, his medical staff seemingly having gone off on a meal break. He really needed to put a forcefield on the door to keep them from leaving.

"Centurion?" he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Galan's face. He picking up a medical tricorder and a dermal re-generator, scanning the wound. "Nothing serious, but a faint trace of an unusual chemical compound in your bloodstream," he noted as he started to close the wound with the re-generator. He waited to see what Galan chose to report, focusing on healing the wound.

"Ah, a new tea blend of mine tasted bad, and left me feeling a little sick. It must be something from that that you're detecting," Galan replied, trying to play it off so the doctor wouldn't think it was worth investigating. "And the wound has even less of a interesting story; I hit my head while picking something up from underneath a table. Though the knock made me remember that I still had to come in for my check up." He forced a wan smile, looking down at the stubby red-headed human.

<tag>

[[OOC: Welcome back. : )]]

USS Rhode Island, Sickbay
January 12th, 2387

After hearing the news of his home planets destruction, Galan found that his tea collection provided him with less comfort than usual. He thought about taking his frustration and sorrow out on a few aliens, violently, but promptly pushed the idea out of his mind. In desperate need of some sort of outlet, the Romulan ended up brewing one of his tea mixes with a spice that induced hallucinogenic effects on Vulcanoids. It was the first time he had tried it, and it didn't turn out too well. He ended up fighting off terrors in his sleep and hitting his head when waking up in a sweat. The impact left him bruised and bloody just above the left eyebrow, and momentarily disoriented. Once he came to his senses, he knew he needed to go to Sickbay. That, and some good lies about what had happened to him.

When he stepped into the Sickbay, he turned his head and noticed that the half-dozen diagnostic beds arranged around the room were all unoccupied.

"Doctor? Is anyone here?" he said as he wiped at the blood on his forehead.

Fletcher rose from his desk and stepped into the main sickbay, his medical staff seemingly having gone off on a meal break. He really needed to put a forcefield on the door to keep them from leaving.

"Centurion?" he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Galan's face. He picking up a medical tricorder and a dermal re-generator, scanning the wound. "Nothing serious, but a faint trace of an unusual chemical compound in your bloodstream," he noted as he started to close the wound with the re-generator. He waited to see what Galan chose to report, focusing on healing the wound.

"Ah, a new tea blend of mine tasted bad, and left me feeling a little sick. It must be something from that that you're detecting," Galan replied, trying to play it off so the doctor wouldn't think it was worth investigating. "And the wound has even less of a interesting story; I hit my head while picking something up from underneath a table. Though the knock made me remember that I still had to come in for my check up." He forced a wan smile, looking down at the stubby red-headed human.

"Must have been a rough blend of tea," Fletcher responded as he worked, his left eyebrow rising again in curiosity as he stitched up the headwound. "No sign of concussion," he said. "That's good. If you'd be so kind to sit on the biobed, I'll began the examination. It should not take long."

He returned a slightly awkward smile. His bedside manner was always a little off when he didn't have Nician to lean on. The lighthearted Bolian's banter helped break through to patients in a way Fletcher didn't know how to emulate. He picked up a cold compress, which he used to clear the blood off of Galan's face. "I don't have a copy of your medical record. Would you mind providing me information on your medical history?"

[Tag. OOC: I swear I posted this! Argh. So sorry. ]