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treksickfic · 3 years

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Comfort in the Little Things

An Election Day fic for you, even if you are not in the States. There seems to be a collective sense of angst in the air and I needed to read a cozy story; maybe you do, too.

Featuring TOS Spock and McCoy, but not Spones. Self-avowed “bulletproof” McCoy is miserable with a case of Kamaraazite Flu and Spock steps in to help. A short and sweet fic at just around 1800 words.

My immense gratitude to @soupandtissues for the beautiful stories that have comforted me and inspired me to write my own.

The door chime startled Leonard McCoy from a restless half-slumber. He considered standing and crossing to the door but who was he kidding? He lacked the strength to even roll himself over in bed.

“Come,” he croaked, as loudly as he could, and the single word triggered another coughing fit. He propped himself up on one elbow, all the better to not choke to death, he thought, hand pressed to his chest. As the paroxysm gradually passed, he sagged back to the bed, sweating and shivering but too exhausted to do anything to ease his discomfort.

He closed his eyes when he heard measured footsteps approaching the spot where he lay in misery. Chapel again, or M’Benga. Well, he didn’t feel like talking or listening to their chatter and he certainly didn’t need anyone hovering over him. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, whoever it was would leave.

“So it appears you are not bulletproof after all, Doctor.”

McCoy’s eyes flew open at the deep, measured voice.

“Spock,” he said, resignation in his tone. He’d changed his mind. He’d prefer his over-solicitous nurse or brisk Dr. M’Benga to this. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When Captain Kirk expressed his concern that you may be affected by the recent outbreak of Kamaraazite flu you said, and I quote, ‘I’ve been in Starfleet Medical for thirteen years, I’m bulletproof by now.’ Clearly you are not.”

McCoy tugged at his blanket to cover himself, feeling exposed under the unrelenting gaze of Spock.

“Kamaraazite flu is a nasty business,” he said. “Thought I was going to sneeze out a vital organ at one point.”

“Patients have been known to do just that. But in your case it was not the virulency of the flu itself, it was overwork and neglecting to administer the serum to yourself in order to ensure an adequate supply for the crew.”

“Hubris, in other words.”

“Not hubris, Doctor. You simply made the mistake common to senior officers, assuming you are indestructible.”

He started to respond and then felt a deep, burning ache in his sinuses. He drew in a quick breath and then folded forward with a powerful sneeze. That might have been my spleen, he thought. When he dared to look up, Spock was standing near the bed, holding out a box of tissues with one hand. McCoy snatched them from him.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a handful and blowing his nose. “For the tissues and for the pep talk. Now what do you want? Did you come here to laugh in my face? Maybe mock my puny human immune system?”

“Not at all, Doctor. I find nothing about your illness amusing. I simply wondered if you were in need of any assistance. Your cough has been quite persistent this evening.”

“And how would you know?”

“Our quarters share a common wall. I have been aware of your distress for some time now.”

“Have you now? Took you long enough to check on me.”

“I assumed you wished to be alone.”

McCoy snorted, which triggered a cough. “Typical heartless Vulcan logic,” he said when he was able.

“Not logic, Doctor,” Spock replied. “A simple inference. You shouted at the last person who attempted to check on you, indicating a strong desire to be left alone.”

“Well, I don’t need your help. And I do want to be alone, so you can leave now.”

“Are you certain? The quality and intensity of your cough is showing evidence of increasing chest congestion and inflammation, but yet you seem unable to clear your airway.”

McCoy tried to respond but curled in on himself as another fit overtook him. He coughed harshly into a handful of tissues, aware of the deep ache in his lungs, and more concerning, the constriction and the rattle when he tried to take a deep breath.

Damn it if he isn’t right.

“Is there any effective medical treatment or does the illness have to run its course?”

McCoy gestured vaguely toward a table in the front room.

“There,” he managed to wheeze out after a few moments, gesturing toward a table in the front room. “Two hyposprays.”

For some reason, he’d left the sprays out of reach. By the time he’d staggered in from Sickbay, his fever had been spiking and he wasn’t thinking straight, just dropped his whole kit on the nearest surface. By the time the fever broke, he’d been too exhausted to fetch any of it.

He flopped backward against a stack of pillows that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. He felt drained of all energy and was only vaguely aware of Spock’s movements around his quarters. If he could just get some sleep, that’s all he needed to throw this off.

“Is there a preferred location for administration, Doctor?” He reluctantly opened his eyes to see Spock standing nearby, disengaging the hypospray lock with his thumb.

McCoy tilted his head to one side. “Right there,” he said, indicating the exposed arc of his neck. “About the same place you’d give me a nerve pinch.” Not a bad idea at that, instant unconsciousness, but the corophizine would provide the same effect in about twenty minutes or so. He sighed, echoing the hiss of the hypospray.

Spock’s face showed just a hint of distaste, likely a conditioned response from the many times he’d been sick after receiving medication. He administered the second spray and then strode decisively from the room, depositing the hyposprays back into their cases. McCoy turned his head to watch as he busied himself in the small kitchen area. Spock returned to the sleeping quarters carrying a heavy glass mug, steam swirling from the top.

“What’s this?” McCoy said, accepting the drink from him..

“It is tea, with lemon and honey. I understand many humans enjoy it when they are experiencing symptoms of an upper respiratory illness.”

McCoy took a cautious sniff, not that he could actually smell anything, and looked up at Spock.

“Not the Vulcan swill you drink, is it? That stuff could strip paint off a wall.”

“Vulcan spice tea is appropriate for more refined palates. This is plain black Oolong with Andorian honey and lemon. You should find it unassuming enough for your tastes.”

“I’m not sure if I should be insulted or not.” He closed his eyes at the first careful swallow. “It’s good,” he said. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Spock perched at the edge of the bed. “Whatever you may think of me, Doctor, I do not wish to see you suffer unnecessarily if I can assist you. If that means making you a cup of tea when you are ill, I am willing to do so.”

When he opened his mouth to reply, McCoy began to cough again, a combination of the medication and the tea having the desired effect. He felt the cup lifted from his hand and heard the clink on the bedside table as it was set aside. His cough was productive now, and he felt a gentle hand settle on his back and rest there, unmoving. No unnecessary movement or sentimental patting, just a welcome gesture of support and comfort.

He could barely catch a breath in between violent coughs and when he did, he felt the deep rattle of congestion shifting in his chest. It must be disgusting to listen to. He scrabbled for the box of tissues Spock had given him earlier and felt it placed in his hands. He kept his head turned away as he struggled, trying to make a neat pile as he went through nearly the entire box of tissues. The fit seemed unending but finally he was able to take a deep breath without triggering another cough and he sank back to the pillows, covered in sweat, head pounding, chest aching, but feeling some relief.

Spock disposed of the tissues and now sat with a wet cloth in hand, a look of utter concentration on his face as he carefully bathed McCoy’s forehead and temples.

“I can do that,” he said, reaching for the cloth but without much conviction in his voice. It was humiliating to be tended to by Spock, but he felt too weak to do much about it.

“Lie still, Doctor.” he said, running the damp washcloth along the sides of his neck.

“Y’know, if you’re going to play nursemaid, you can use my first name.”

Spock made no response, folding the cloth and setting it near the mug when he’d finished.

“You’d have made a good physician, Spock.”

He raised one eyebrow. “How so?”

“You’re calm, you don’t panic. You do what needs to be done with no fuss. Guess that’s what comes from having no emotions. Wish I could manage it.”

“Vulcans do experience emotions. So powerful that if we were to allow our emotions to dominate, it would mean a return to the savagery of our old ways. We are taught control from a young age.”

Spock had alluded to the old ways before but McCoy had difficulty imagining him as anything but cool and unflappable. But maybe, just maybe, in those mysterious eyes, there was a hint of what was possible.

“Nurse Chapel will be delighted to know you have emotions. Or maybe disappointed.”

“Christine already understands this aspect of my nature. She is one of the few who does.”

The medication was having its desired effect. The urge to cough lessening, his breathing easier and a lazy, floating drowsiness taking over. McCoy waggled his eyebrows lazily at the sound of his head nurse’s first name.

“‘Christine’ huh?’ Why, Spock, I had no idea.”

“It is not what you are assuming, Doctor. Nurse Chapel is sensitive, insightful and makes no assumptions about other species. You are fortunate to have her on your staff.”

“What’re you still doing here?” McCoy’s voice was beginning to slur as he changed the subject. He didn’t have the energy for their usual banter.

“I am, as you say, ‘keeping you company,’” Spock replied. “You don’t need to do that.”

“On the contrary, Doctor. The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner I can return to my preferred evening activities.”

“Nearly there,” McCoy murmured.

“Then I will leave you to your rest.” Spock stood. “Shall I check on you later?

McCoy waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, I’m feeling pretty good.”

And then he closed his eyes, vaguely aware of a sleepy half-smile on his face. Through his half-asleep haze he felt a hand settle against the top of his head.

“Then sleep well, Leonard.” Spock said. “We need you back in sickbay.”

McCoy responded with a click of his tongue and a fingergun gesture without lifting his hand from where it rested on his chest. “Will do.”

The last thing he heard was a sigh, the sound of the door to his quarters sliding shut and then all was dark and peaceful.

#sick fic #sickfic #star trek sickfic #sick bones #caretaker spock #hurt/comfort #star trek hurt/comfort #that's probably enough tags #I hope you enjoy

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curegbm · 4 years

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Susan Foster info for health -

July 7, 2020

When I was a junior in college I went to school in Vienna. One of my friends was Martina Nicholson. She became an OB/GYN, and just retired last year. She has a colleague, Dr. Richard Loftus, who is a biohazard virology-trained hospitalist. In other words he is treating COVID-19 patients in the hospital. I've read a lot of these accounts and this is the most powerful one I've ever read. It makes you want to hand out masks to everyone who's not wearing one. I am going to print this and carry copies with me when I'm walking. I will hand this out to people who don't have masks. If anybody gives me a hard time for my post on masks, you will get a copy of Dr. Loftus' brilliant, raw, painful account of what it's like treating these patients. What really struck me is how sick young previously healthy patients are 3 – 4 months post release from the hospital. Please be careful. Do not, for one more second, doubt this is real.

From Martina Nicholson, MD:

From my friend Dr Rick Loftus, MD. yesterday (7/2/20), update about Covid-19:

I'm in a hotspot hospital in a hotspot region (Coachella Valley, Inland Empire, CA). We just converted the entire second floor of our hospital to COVID-19 care yesterday, July 1. We have 65 inpatients with COVID-19 in a hospital with 368 beds. It is the same at our other 2 hospitals in the Valley. We spent yesterday deciding the ethical way to divide up limited remdesivir (30 patients' worth) for the hospital patients. My 20 incoming interns for our IM resident were exposed to COVID 2 weeks ago during their computer chart training; apparently 100% of our computer trainers had COVID19. One intern tested positive 7 days later and I insisted we re-test them all again, as there are almost certainly other cases with minimal symptoms. I raided my household and took my entire supply of face shields to the hospital for the residents to wear on their first day, and I paid $1000 of my own money to equip all of my residents with medical-grade face shields. I require all residents to wear a surgical mask or N95 with face shield if they are within 6 feet of another human, patient or coworker.

Roughly 20% of our inpatients die. Only 30% of our ventilated patients survive. (We try to avoid ventilation at all costs. Some people insist on being full code and decompensate despite high flow with face mask, proning, dexamethasone, antibiotics, and a cocktail of famotidine, zinc, Vitamin D, Vitamin C, NAC, and melatonin--we throw everything we can at each case, so long as it won't hurt them.)

My administrative assistant, who sits adjacent to the interns, just went home with COVID symptoms. Her test is pending.

In the Southwest, we are experiencing catastrophic exponential growth. I have had multiple families--siblings, parent-child, spouses--admitted with COVID-19. I had a 31 year old come in satting 78% on room air; he had been sequestering himself in his bedroom for a week to avoid infecting his elderly parents, with whom he lived. His sister, the only person he saw outside his immediate household in the 10 days prior to onset of fever, cough, and dyspnea, had also had fevers but had tested "negative" at our other large hospital so he thought it was safe to visit her. (Sigh. The Quest PCR test is about 80% sensitive, we think--it had emergency approval to sensitivity data was not required. The Cepheid rapid COVID PCR test is 98.5% sensitive but is in short supply due to limited reagent availability.)

I'm glad some of you are sheltered from what unbridled COVID-19 looks like. It's a hell show. This is *July*. What do you think my hospital will look like in winter?...

This is real. Doctors in places with proper public health responses will see few cases in their hospitals--like UCSF--but let me tell you something: The laws of physics and biology don't change. If you're in an unaffected region, an introduction and poor governance and low use of physical distancing and masks will give you an exponential increase in no time flat (i.e. 2-4 weeks). That's pandemic math. And 20% of the population infected needs a hospital. You *will* run out of beds with an unbridled pandemic. There is almost ZERO pre-existing immunity to SARS-CoV-2. There may be some "priming" of T-cell responses due to exposure to other "benign" beta-coronaviruses, but we have no idea if that explains the 20-40% of people who seem to get minimal symptoms. Asymptomatic infected persons, however, can, and do, spread COVID to those who die from it.

By the way: I've seen scary looking CT scans of the lungs that look like terrible interstitial pneumonia in a patient who had ZERO symptoms and SaO2 94% on room air. She came in for palpitations and the intern overnight got a chest CT for cardiac reasons. We didn't know it was COVID until her test came back 36 hours later. So "asymptomatic" does NOT mean "no biological activity." The virus replicates furiously in people who feel fine. Kids can spread this as easily as grown ups, even if they feel okay.

Related: I've talked to two previously healthy patients ages 32 and 44 who are 3 and 4 months, respectively, post their acute COVID. They continue to have cough, nightsweats, fever, fatigue. How many survivors have "post-COVID syndrome"? We don't know. Less than 20% but we're not sure. I've asked my hospital to allow me to establish a post-COVID clinic to care for and study survivors. Both NIH and UW are planning similar efforts based on my dialogues with them.

Autopsies show anoxic brain injury in many patients who died of COVID, not to mention microthrombi throughout the lungs and megakaryocytes in massive infiltrations in their hearts and other organs. People get heart failure, lung fibrosis, and permanent kidney injury from COVID-19. This is a disease of the vascular systems, and it can affect any organ, with lungs and kidneys being especially at risk.

In early May, thanks to lockdown, our census of 55 came down to 10 COVID cases, and for a brief moment, I actually had hope that the worst nightmares I had about COVID, as a biohazard virology-trained hospitalist, would not come to pass. Then we re-opened, without test/trace/isolate systems anywhere close to adequate. Eight weeks ago my county decided to make masks "optional," despite 125 doctors begging them not to do that. Now we're worse than we were in April. And it's getting worse every day.

You wanna see if COVID is real? Come walk on my COVID ward with me. It's real. Hearing people talk about it as if it's an exaggeration is, well, rage-inducing, honestly. Denial is the most common reaction to a pandemic. Denial is how the US will wind up with 1.1 million deaths instead of 30,000. I saw AIDS denialists get killed by their belief that HIV "isn't real, it's a pharma conspiracy of the medical industrial complex." Yeah, right, if you say so. I watched patients with those beliefs die.

The hardest part about this is, every new case I treat exposes me. I have assiduous hot zone technique. But no technique is bulletproof. If you keep exposing me to case after case, eventually, the virus will get through my defenses. I'm a 50 year old hypertensive. I don't expect to do well if I get infected. For now, I keep going to work. I'm one of the few pushing forward on COVID clinical trials, basic science, public health messaging, and diagnostic studies at my hospital. I feel a responsibility to keep going. I wake up with nightmares every morning at 4am. But I'm going to keep going for now. I feel very alone a lot of the time. People are not taking this seriously, and it's costing lives. -R

"Everything we do before a pandemic will seem alarmist. Everything we do after a pandemic will seem inadequate. This is the dilemma we face, but it should not stop us from doing what we can to prepare. We need to reach out to everyone with words that inform, but not inflame. We need to encourage everyone to prepare, but not panic." — Michael O. Leavitt, 2007

Richard A. Loftus, MD

"Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and lying and greed. If people all over the world...would do this, it would change the earth." --William Faulkner

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