2007-03-22: The Healing Touch


Namir_icon.gif Bekah_icon.gif

Summary: On his way home from Common Grounds, Namir is run into by a mugger fleeing the scene of a crime. In a panic, the mugger shoots him, and Namir is taken to Mount Sinai's emergency room for treatment. Bekah uses her abilities to help him and the two share secrets.

Date It Happened: March 22, 2007

The Healing Touch

Emergency Room, Mount Sinai Hospital

It's the sort of thing that one reads or hears about on the news and subconsciously thinks, "That would never happen to me." Add onto that the fact that his job is already high-risk when it comes to guns, and Namir finds himself in a bit of unpleasant surprise. It was called into the ER earlier: Middle-Eastern man outside convenience store, gunshot wound to the ribs. Now the paramedics called to the scene wheel him in on a stretcher. The button-up shirt he was wearing at the time and his overcoat have both been removed to allow for makeshift bandages and the like to be placed over the oozing hole in his right side. An oxygen mask has been placed over his nose and mouth to help his uninjured lung in processing air, and some painkillers have been administered; the Muslim is simply quiet and calm as he's rushed into the doors of Mount Sinai's emergency room. Funny; he was just walking home from a coffee house.

Bekah is the attending on shift, which means she gets all the fun things. Like bullet holes. She steps up the paramedics, who spew off vital stats upon seeing her. She nods calmly and summons a nurse as they move into one of the trauma rooms. "Alright, let's move him over." And with that, Namir is being lifted and moved to one of the ER's beds. "We'll take it from here. Have a more boring night, please." She states to the paramedics as she starts to assess the patient, starting with listening to his breathing, a glove covered hand light against his chest as she moves the stethoscope.

"Yeah, right," one of the paramedics utters dryly as the group of them set off. When is it ever a boring night for them?

Namir squeezes his eyes shut and grimaces a bit when he's moved, but of course he offers no resistance. His breathing is shallow and labored in spite of the oxygen mask — it sounds appropriately rough and wet for someone who's been shot in the ribs. Aside from this and an elevated heart rate, everything sounds peachy in his chest cavity. He rolls his head slightly to the side and squints at Bekah. Good, it's not Samantha. He mutters something into the mask that sounds like "doctors" and "cold stethoscopes", but it's choppy and soft.

Bekah leaves her hand near the wound a moment after the stethoscope is gone. It's a quick thing that doesn't seem to attract any attention from the nurses, but when she takes it away, Namir should be breathing easier. "Let's a pulse/ox monitor on and page surgery. Watch his breathing, and intubate if necessary. It might have clipped his lung." The last is directed to a young resident. Finally Namir gets a look. "Sorry it's cold. Someone should invent a self warming one, huh?" And he should probably be glad Samantha isn't here, as there's a nurse ridding him of what's left of his clothes, cutting when neccessary, to make sure there aren't any more injuries.

It's not noticeable to the nurses, but to Namir, it's quite noticeable. One moment he's fighting to pull in air, the next he's breathing much easier. It's strange, and he glances over at Bekah again inquisitively. Did she do something? She was only using her stethoscope, and stethoscopes are cold and don't actually have healing capabilities. Her remark gets a faint smirk from him. "That's wh-what I … told Samantha," he informs her in a bit of a stronger voice. He doesn't get the chance to ask about his fixed lung, however, because then his clothes are being removed, and he lets out a quiet sound of protest, reflexively reaching to grab hold of the waistband of his boxers. Someone's modest.

The nurse smirks down at him, but doesn't make a move to take his boxers, apparently content for the moment with checking the rest of him for other injuries. "Don't have anything we haven't seen before." The older woman murmurs before she gets a shake of the head from Bekah. The doctor moves her hands down to Namir's stomach, pressing and feeling as she keeps half an eye on his stats. Finally what he says sinks in around the medical thoughts going through her head. "Samantha Applebaum?" Curiousity killed the cat, but thankfully, Bekah isn't feline.

When he's allowed to keep at least /some/ semblance of modesty, Namir sighs — coughs, rather — and relaxes again. Sure, they've probably seen it all before, but they've not seen /his/ naked self, and he prefers to keep it that way. As for other injuries, the only other wounds are faint bruises on his back from the fall he took after being shot and shoved backwards. These would not be readily noticeable, considering. The Muslim tenses a bit again when his stomach is prodded, but it's more a reflexive action than one of pain. "Mm-hmm," he replies to Bekah's inquiry. He really is glad she's not here right now.

Bekah moves up to check Namir's eyes. It's time for the follow the penlight trick as the resident settles an i.v. in Namir's arm. "Hang a liter of O-neg as well as the saline and give him morphine." Bekah directs before she asks. "Sam a good friend? We could let her know. Anyone else you want contacted?" Because he's pretty stable now that Bekah worked her little mojo on his lung. "Right now, your breathing is normalizing and your heartrate seems steady." If fast. "It seems like you were very lucky in where that bullet hit." Or in having a doctor with a few extra tricks up her sleeve.

The insertion of the I.V. is taken without complaint, but then again Namir's not in any position to let his slight needle-phobia take hold. He keeps his focus mainly on Bekah as she checks his eyes, trying his level best to ignore whatever-it-is that the resident is doing. "Mm-hmm," he utters again at the question of Sam. "And … Fahd Dayan. He's my brother." Best that Fahd get the news before his mother; he'd be able to break it to her easier. As for the bullet, well, he simply goes silent on that point. He knows better — he wasn't breathing this easily coming into the hospital.

Bekah nods her head. "Alright. Is his number in your wallet, or do you want to give it to the nurse?" She suggests as she finishes with the eyes, and tucks her flashlight away. "The surgeon will be down shortly to evaluate you. Most likely he'll want to take you to surgery to remove the bullet. In the meantime, we're going to get a CT scan to be sure there's no bleeding in there and find the location of the bullet." She takes a quick look at the chart that has been started, with the info from the paramedics and their monitoring. And his name, possibly taken by the paramedics. Or just off his id. "Call CT to set that up. Let Sam know that her friend Namir is here as well, please." That's directed to the resident who just nods. "Sure thing, Bek." It's nice to have minions.

At the question of Fahd's number, Namir shakes his head and gives a wave toward his snatched slacks. "Cell phone," he states. "In contacts. Family." He nods along when Bekah explains what's going to be happening to him, and the morphine is already starting to calm him down and make him comfy. Mmm, chemicals. His chart doesn't list any allergies or pre-existing conditions.

Bekah is still keeping half an eye on his oxygen level and pulse as she sets the chart back down. Nothing too exciting there. The nurse does her thing, taking the phone and stepping outside to use a hospital line to make the call. The resident has scurried off to do Bekah's bidding and for a moment at least, that leaves just the two of them in the room. Bekah lifts the bandage to take a better look at the wound than she got earlier, before putting a better bandage in place. "Anything been hurting other than the wound in your chest?" She asks, checking the IV. Got to see if her minion, er resident, did a good job.

Once again, Namir shakes his head, but he also answers verbally: "I fell when he shot me, but … it's not bad. Just bruises, I think." Now that they're alone, however, he feels a little more comfortable addressing the issue of the Lung That Was Broken. Glancing around the room just to be /sure/, he turns his eyes on Bekah, lifting an eyebrow slightly. "What did you do to me?"

"Bruises will stand no chance against the morphine. If it starts hurting while we have you on the good stuff, let me know. That's a sign you've got more than bruises." Bekah stays before she blinks at his question. The doctor bites her lip for a second before she answers. "My job. Let's see, we bandaged it to slow the bleeding, gave you oxygen, morphine, blood, and saline." The nurse hasn't returned yet, but neither has Bekah really answered the question.

Which is something that Namir easily picks up on. He shakes his head, tightening his lips a bit. "That's not what I meant," he utters. "There was … something else. You did it, I'm … sure. My breathing got easier when you … you were using your stethoscope." A lot easier. In fact, he likely wouldn't be talking so easily right now if not for that little bit of assistance.

Bekah pauses for a second before she looks down to Namir. She bites her lip for a moment before she says. "Can't you just accept that it happened? Maybe it's a magic stethoscope." Alright, so the stethoscope part is said with a quite sarcastic tone before she adds. "How good a friend of Sam's are you?"

Changes in subject are not allowed! Once again, Namir shakes his head, smirking. "Not a … magic stethoscope," he argues. "It was cold." That makes it a /real/ stethoscope. He's no fool. Instead of avoiding the question asked of him, he answers it plainly before attempting to steer the conversation back to his own inquiry: "I'm a very … good friend of Sam's. We've dated. How did you do it?"

Bekah looks over to Namir again before she shakes her head. "Hell, you're on morphine. Tell anyone, and they'll just think it's the drugs." She states before she does answer the question. "I don't know how I did it, really. Just that I can. I could have healed it all the way, but that would have looked much more suspicious." She covers a yawn with the back of her glove, the non-bloody part. "Wears me out though. I'll need a good cup of coffee. Or at least coffee. I don't think they have such a thing as good coffee in the hospital." She looks over to Namir for a moment before she smile. "Good. Sam could use it. Hurt her though, and remember that she has many friends with great knowledge of needles. I'm Bekah, by the way." Though her nametag reads Dr. Morgan.

Aha, that's what he figured. Namir smirks a bit more, satisfied and even a bit relieved. "That's incredible," he chuckles softly. "I won't tell … anyone. Promise. But you're … you're not alone." He doesn't elaborate further. He's too tired for a demonstration of his own abilities. The remark about Sam causes him to grin briefly. "No, I won't … hurt her. I'd shoot /myself/ before … I did anything like that."

Bekah shakes her head. "Uh uh. No shooting yourself. Then I'd just have to heal you again and that would not make me happy." Bekah says with dry humor before her curiousity gets the better of her. "Really? You know other people who can do this?" The fact that other people can doesn't seem to be a surprise to her though. Good thing it's taking the nurse so long.

"Not that exactly," Namir utters, "but … similar things. Other things. Have you … read Activating Evolution by Doctor Chandra … Suresh?" The Muslim frowns a bit at some internal discomfort before he adds, "Can I get some water?" Throat's dry and there's still the lingering taste of blood back there somewhere.

Bekah peels off her gloves for a moment and moves to fill a glass at the sink in the room. It's not really all that full, but she adds a straw as she moves back over. "You can have a little bit. We don't want much in your stomach, even much water, if you need surgery to remove the bullet." She pauses a second to shift back to the other conversation with a nod. "I have. It's a fascinating book."

It's not exactly the sort of amount that Namir craves, but he doesn't complain. It's enough to at least relieve some of the dryness and bad taste, and he accepts the glass with his left hand after an attempt to move the right one results in some pain from the injured side. "Thank you." After he's taken a sip, he nods, returning to the previous subject. "It is." A moment's pause. "I'm one of those … people. I can control sounds." He smirks a bit and breathes out a soft snort of wry amusement. "I'd show you, but …" he trails off meaningfully.

"Most people aren't exactly at their best in that bed." Bekah states as she puts on a clean pair gloves, making sure he keeps the glass steady. "And you know more? People like us? I've only ever known one other." That she's aware of at least. She strides to the door and looks out. "How long does it take to arrange a CT scan?" She grumbles under her breath as she turns back to Namir.

Another nod from Namir. "A few. Not many." Ironically, Sam is one of them, but as he doesn't know whether or not Bekah knows of the other doctor's abilities, he doesn't mention this. It's not his place to "out" anybody else. "There are people out there … researching this sort of thing. Doctor Suresh's son is one."

Bekah nods her head. "I've heard a bit about that. I don't want to seem too interested though, around here. I like my job just fine. I'd hate to get labelled a quack and laughed at by the residents. Right now they do my bidding like good little minions." Yes, she's joking. But it is how she thinks of them sometimes. Speaking of which, the resident pokes his head back in the door. "CT is ready. Want me to take him up, Bek? There's another trauma coming in. ETA 5 minutes." Bekah nods. "Give me just enough time for some coffee." The doctor says. She uses fiddling with Namir's bandage to lean close and whisper. "When you get out of here, if you want it the rest of the way healed, give me a call. Sam knows how to reach me." And then she's off, leaving Namir to the capable resident.

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