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unabashegirl · 4 months ago

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Echo — Dr. Styles

Harry is a cardiothoracic surgeon and Aurora is just one of his students...

Author's note: Hello everyone, this one shot has been posted a long time on Patreon. I'm finally happy to release it for all of my Tumblr followers. I hope you enjoy it. It's quite long so happy reading!

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word count: 7.5K

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The operating room hummed with a symphony of beeping monitors and the steady rush of air from vents. He stood at the center, surrounded by a team of skilled medical professionals, each playing their part in the delicate dance of a heart transplant.

Dressed in his scrubs, His focus was unwavering as he gazed down at the patient lying before him. The heart monitor beeped steadily, a reassuring rhythm amidst the controlled chaos of the surgery.

"Scalpel," He called out, his voice calm yet commanding. A nurse placed the tool in his outstretched hand, and with practiced precision, he made the first incision.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Harry worked, his movements sure and steady. The transplant was a delicate procedure, requiring absolute precision and unwavering focus.

As he meticulously dissected the damaged heart from the surrounding tissues, Harry's mind was a whirlwind of calculations and decisions. Every cut, every stitch, held the patient's life in the balance.

"Alright, let me have a retractor," he requested, his eyes never leaving the task at hand. A nurse handed him the instrument, and he gently maneuvered the tissues aside, revealing the beating heart beneath.

The sight never failed to awe Harry, even after years of performing surgeries. The human heart, a marvel of nature, beating with the rhythm of life itself.

With a sense of reverence, he reached for the donor heart, carefully preserved in a chilled solution nearby. As he lifted it into place, a collective breath seemed to fill the room.

"Clamp," The doctor instructed, and the new heart was secured in its rightful place. With meticulous care, he began to stitch the arteries and veins, connecting the life-giving vessels of the new heart to those of the patient.

Time seemed to both stand still and fly by in the OR. Each stitch, each suture, brought the transplant closer to completion. The team around he moved with practiced efficiency, a well-oiled machine working in perfect harmony. After six hours of standing with no breaks, he stepped back. The heart transplant was a success.

The room seemed to exhale as the monitors beeped steadily, the sound a comforting reassurance of the patient's stable condition.

"Get him to the ICU and keep me updated every hour," the surgeon instructed his intern firmly. "Stitch him up," he commanded, swiftly removing his disposable gown and gloves.

"Dr. Styles? Should I inform his wife and family? What should I say to them?" the intern asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"No, I'll take care of it. Thank you, everyone," Dr. Harry Styles replied, his voice steady and reassuring, before exiting the operating room.

As Harry stepped out of the operating room, the weight of the surgery lingered in the air around him. The hushed tones of the hospital corridor offered a stark contrast to the controlled chaos of the OR.

With a purposeful stride, he made his way to the waiting area where the patient's family anxiously awaited news. The sense of anticipation was palpable, the air heavy with worry and hope.

The patient's wife sat on the edge of her seat, her eyes red-rimmed from hours of anxious waiting. As she caught sight of Harry approaching, her heart leaped into her throat.

"Dr. Styles," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "How is he? Is he going to be okay?”

Harry paused before her, his gaze gentle yet unwavering. "Your husband is out of surgery," he began, his voice steady. "The transplant was successful, but he's still in a critical condition. We'll be monitoring him closely in the ICU."

Tears welled up in the wife's eyes, a mix of relief and fear washing over her. "Can I see him? Can I be with him?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry nodded, "Of course. He's being prepared for transfer to the ICU now. You'll be able to see him soon. Now it's a matter of time and his body's response to the new heart. I’ll go check on him in a few hours. Excuse me” He gave her a small smile before disappearing down the corridor to complete charting and also get to a meeting with the attendings and the chief.

Morning," Harry greeted as he stepped into the conference room, juggling his charts and a cold brew he'd snagged from the coffee shop outside.

"How'd the surgery go?" Niall, the attending for emergencies, inquired as Harry settled in beside him.

"Alright," Harry shrugged, already engrossed in his notes. "What's this meeting about?"

Harry and Niall had struck up a friendship recently. Niall was a natural conversationalist, known for his boisterous laughter and infectious smiles. In contrast, Harry tended to keep to himself, often lost in his thoughts.

"It's about the new surgical interns starting today," the doctor seated across from Niall shared, catching Harry's attention. He frowned, already dreading the inevitable chaos that came with the arrival of new interns. Teaching was never his favorite part of the job, but he endured it for the greater good.

"Oh, I'm excited!" Niall beamed, a glimmer of enthusiasm in his eyes that Harry couldn't quite match. He knew Niall's fondness for charming the new interns, often leading to more than just professional relationships.

"Morning," the chief greeted as he entered the room, his presence commanding attention. In his mid-sixties, the chief had hired Harry, yet their interactions remained minimal. Harry preferred it that way; he kept his circle small, especially in a place where boundaries could easily blur.

"This will be a quick meeting about the incoming interns and the duties and expectations for the next few weeks," the chief explained, setting the tone for the discussion.

Harry listened attentively as the chief outlined the responsibilities and expectations for the upcoming weeks with the new surgical interns. His gaze wandered around the room, noting the varied reactions of his colleagues.

Niall seemed positively thrilled, nodding along eagerly and already making mental notes about which interns he would be taking under his wing. Harry couldn't help but shake his head at his friend's predictable enthusiasm for the new arrivals.

On the other side of the room, Dr. Patel sat with a look of quiet determination, her focus unwavering as she absorbed every detail of the chief's instructions. Harry respected her dedication and work ethic, knowing that she would undoubtedly excel in guiding the interns. She was one of the most famous gastroenterologist surgeons in the hospital.

As the meeting progressed, Harry found himself growing more apprehensive about the impending arrival of the interns. The first few weeks were always a whirlwind of orientation, training sessions, and long hours in the OR. He knew it would test his patience and ability to teach effectively.

"Any questions?" the chief asked, bringing Harry's attention back to the present.

Harry glanced around the room, noting the silence that followed. He cleared his throat, deciding to speak up. "Just to clarify, are we each assigned specific interns to mentor, or is it more of a collective effort?"

The chief nodded, addressing Harry's question. "We have a list of assigned mentors for each intern, but I encourage all attending physicians to participate in their training and offer guidance when needed."

he chief distributed the lists of mentors to each of the attending physicians. Harry glanced down at his list and noted that he had five interns assigned to him, the majority of whom were male. It brought a slight sense of relief, knowing he might have more common ground for discussion with them, than with the female ones.

"They should be up in a few hours. They are getting introduced to their residents and the program before they're sent your way," the chief informed the group. "That will be all. Have a good day."

With that, the meeting was adjourned, and the attendings began to gather their things and prepare for the arrival of the new interns. Harry folded his list neatly and tucked it into his pocket.

After attending to some of his post-op patients, Harry returned to his rounds before a page from Camille, one of the cardiology residents, summoned him to the cardiology wing. He knew exactly what that meant – it was time to meet the new interns.

"Doctor Styles! There you are," Camille exclaimed, waving him over as he entered the room. Before him stood a group of about twenty eager faces, all eyes on him. "This is Dr. Styles, one of the leaders in our cardiac surgery program. Any decisions made here will be run through him first."

"Good morning, everyone," Harry greeted, offering a warm smile to the group. "Congratulations on being accepted into the program. It goes without saying that this will be a demanding journey, but I hope it proves to be fulfilling for each of you. I'll be mentoring a few of you directly, but please know that I'm always available for questions or guidance."

"Any questions for Dr. Styles?" Camille interjected before Harry could slip away.

One voice rose from the group, breaking the brief silence. "About the mentoring. How does it work?" the inquiry came.

"Is that you, Knight?" Camille scanned the crowd until her eyes landed on Aurora, who stepped forward, no longer hiding behind a taller colleague. "Yes," Aurora confirmed, her voice steady. "I'm just wondering when we'll find out who our mentors are and when we should meet with them?"

"We don't have a set schedule for that," Camille replied, turning to Harry for confirmation. He nodded in agreement before she continued. "It usually happens when you and the attending find a bit of time between their duties and cases. As for when your mentors will be revealed, they will progressively become known as we introduce you to the rest of the attendings," Camille explained. She then turned to Harry. "Dr. Styles, do you have your list?”

"Right," Harry acknowledged, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the list. Unfolding it, he scanned the names before finding the one he was looking for. "And Aurora Knight," he announced.

"There you go," Camille said with a smile. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Styles. We'll see you in a bit."

Aurora Knight had always been sharp, bright, and endlessly curious, but above all, she was remarkably disciplined. So, when the time arrived to select a career path, her parents were taken aback by her choice of medicine. Aurora's unwavering discipline had guided her through many challenges, yet the surgical program posed an entirely new and demanding playing field.

At 27 years old, Aurora Knight was a striking figure with her long, tousled blonde hair framing her face. Her hazel eyes sparkled with intelligence and a hint of mischief, reflecting her sharp wit and curious nature. Despite her petite stature, there was an undeniable presence about her, an aura of confidence and determination that seemed to radiate from within. With a warm smile that could light up a room, Aurora carried herself with a grace.

"We'll be dividing into groups now," Camille announced, her voice carrying over the bustling activity of the surgical wing. "Each group will be assigned a new case, with an attending and resident in charge. Please listen to your resident and attending," she emphasized, gesturing for the interns to pay attention.

Aurora listened attentively as Camille began calling out last names, assigning each intern to their respective groups. As the names were called, excitement buzzed through the room, mingled with a touch of nervous energy.

"I hope I get to be with Dr. Styles," Aurora heard a voice beside her murmur. She couldn't help but smile at the comment, the sentiment echoing her own thoughts about the charming head of the cardiac surgery program.

Aurora kept her gaze fixed on the floor, not bothering to glance up at the others around her. Despite her outward confidence, it was all a facade. In truth, she was more of an introvert, often finding solace in the quiet moments of reflection.

However, being reserved didn't mean she was blind. She couldn't help but admire his striking features from the corner of her eye.

"Knight," Camille's voice finally broke through her thoughts, and Aurora looked up to see Camille pointing to a group of five. She was the last to be called, completing the group.

"You five will be heading down to the emergency room," Camille commanded, her voice firm. "You do remember where it is, right?" All five of them nodded in response. Aurora, however, couldn't recall, but she still nodded, not wanting to risk embarrassing herself and standing out.

The group of interns began to make their way downstairs in silence. None of them knew each other, but circumstances had brought them together on this task.

"Does anyone actually know where it is?" one of the men finally broke the silence, voicing the question that had likely been on all their minds.

The question hung in the air for a moment before Aurora spoke up, her voice steady despite the slight nervous flutter in her stomach. "I'm not entirely sure," she admitted, her hazel eyes meeting the gaze of her fellow interns.

The man who had asked the question nodded in understanding, a small smile playing on his lips. "I guess we’ll figure it out all together" he reassured, his tone friendly. “I am Milo”

“Aurora” She shook her hand.

The group continued down the corridors of the hospital, following the signs that pointed toward the emergency room. As they walked, conversation began to flow more freely, the initial awkwardness of being strangers starting to fade.

Aurora found herself drawn into the discussions, her curiosity piqued as she listened to her new colleagues share their experiences and aspirations. Despite the nerves that still lingered in the back of her mind, she couldn't deny the sense of camaraderie that was beginning to form among them.

Soon, they reached the bustling entrance of the emergency room, the controlled chaos of medical staff and patients filling the space. Camille had mentioned they would be assisting with a new case, and Aurora felt a surge of anticipation mingled with a touch of apprehension.

"We should check in with the attending," one of the interns suggested, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group as they took in the scene before them.

Aurora nodded in agreement, the group moving towards the attending physician who was overseeing the ER that day.

They stood awkwardly a few feet away from Niall as he diligently checked over some charts and finished a note on a patient. All five of them glanced at each other, silently urging someone to muster the courage to approach.

Eventually, Niall felt the weight of their glances on him and spoke up without looking up from his work. "I won't bite," he said, trying to ease the tension. “He is in there”

Just as they were about to make a move, the voice of Dr. Styles boomed through the room. "About time! Where the bloody hell have you been?!" he yelled, the urgency evident in his tone.

The interns hurried into the room, where they found Dr. Styles performing CPR on an unconscious patient. "What are you doing? Get in here!" he commanded, his voice urgent as he gestured for them to join him.

Aurora struggled to maintain focus, but it was nearly impossible not to be captivated by Dr. Styles' striking appearance as he fought to save a life. The muscles beneath his uniform strained with effort, his hair falling in disarray as he applied pressure. Despite his intense concentration, a furrowed brow revealed his determination to revive the patient. Suddenly, his commanding voice snapped her out of her reverie.

Without hesitation, she reached for a pair of gloves and swiftly approached the table.

"Let's get an EKG on him, Dr. Knight. You know how to do that, right? Or do I have to draw it for you?" Harry's voice cut through the urgency of the moment. Aurora nodded, her focus already on the task at hand. She began placing the electrodes on the patient's chest, each one carefully positioned. She ignored his harsh comment doubting her abilities.

"You, intubate him," Harry's next command came without pause as he assessed the patient's vitals.

Milo, one of the other interns, tried to not hesitate. He moved to the head of the bed, positioning himself to intubate the man efficiently.

"He's still bradycardic," Aurora muttered to herself, her eyes scanning the monitors as the rest of the team worked swiftly around the patient. Aurora looked down at her shoes and noticed the blood that was pooling under the stretcher. " he's bleeding from somewhere," she added, her gaze shifting to the man's sides.

"Can we roll him over?" Aurora looked up, meeting Harry's gaze with determination.

Harry nodded in agreement, quickly commanding the nurses to assist.

"I'll help," Autumn, another intern, offered, stepping forward to join Aurora.

Together, they carefully maneuvered the patient onto his side, revealing the source of the bleeding. There, in the fourth intercostal space, was a large and ominous laceration. The sight sent a jolt of urgency through the team as they assessed the severity of the injury and prepared to take swift action.

As the patient's vital signs continued to plummet, Harry's urgency grew palpable. "Dr. Madden, were you able to intubate?" he pressed, his gaze fixed on the worsening situation.

"Just give me a second," Dr. Madden muttered, his focus intent on getting a clear view of the vocal cords.

"We don't have a second, Dr. Madden. Did you do it or not?!" Harry's voice rose with frustration as Aurora and Autumn applied pressure to the wound. "Dr. Madden!"

"I-I..." Dr. Madden hesitated, faltering under the pressure of the tense situation.

Harry wasted no time. With decisive action, he stepped in and pushed Dr. Madden aside, taking control of the intubation process himself. In a matter of moments, the patient was successfully intubated, the urgency of the situation leaving no room for hesitation.

"Let's get him to the operating room," Harry declared, his voice commanding as the team mobilized to move the patient to the next phase of treatment.

The tension in the room was palpable as the chaos of the moment began to subside. It felt as though a storm had swept through, leaving behind an eerie calmness in its wake. All five interns remained rooted to their spots, their expressions a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"He absolutely despises us," Autumn broke the silence, her voice tinged with frustration as she began to remove her gloves.

"Speak for yourself. He hates me," Milo sighed, his tone resigned. "I just couldn't get a clear view."

"At least he didn't offer to draw it out for you," Aurora quipped, attempting to inject a bit of levity into the tense atmosphere. The others chuckled nervously, their laughter quickly fading as they realized Harry had come back into the room.

Aurora, unaware of his presence behind her, continued to face away, while Autumn's eyes widened in apprehension. The realization dawned on them that their mentor had witnessed their candid conversation, adding another layer of tension to the already fraught situation.

"As soon as you're changed, I'll meet you all in the operating room," Harry announced, his pager interrupting the moment. Once the door closed behind him, a collective sigh of relief filled the room.

"Shit," Aurora thought to herself, the weight of the situation settling heavily on her shoulders.

"Good morning, everyone," Harry greeted as he entered the operating room. Aurora lingered in the back, blending into the crowd, attempting to mask her rising anxiety. Despite her efforts, she couldn't shake the nagging fear that Harry might use her comment to have her expelled from the program.

As Harry began to address the team, Aurora's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing with worry. She had worked tirelessly to earn her place in the program, but one wrong move, one mistake, and it could all be taken away.

She watched as Harry moved about the room with confidence, his presence commanding attention from everyone present. His expertise was undeniable, his reputation as a skilled surgeon preceding him.

Aurora couldn't help but feel a pang of inadequacy as she compared herself to him. She was still learning, still finding her footing in the high-pressure environment of the operating room. The thought of disappointing him, of failing to meet his expectations, filled her with dread.

As the surgery got underway, Aurora focused on her tasks, trying to block out the persistent voice of doubt in her mind. She knew she had to prove herself, to show Harry and the rest of the team that she was capable, that she belonged here.

But with each passing moment, the weight of her anxiety grew heavier, threatening to overwhelm her. She couldn't afford to make a mistake, not now, not when so much was at stake.

"Dr. Knight," he called out, his voice cutting through her reverie. "Could you come here and hold the retractor?"

Aurora quietly extricated herself from the crowd, making her way to the table. With the assistance of a nurse, she put on gloves and a gown before positioning herself at the table.

"Here," he said, his hand extending the instrument towards her.

Their fingers brushed briefly as she accepted the tool. She couldn't help but notice the warmth of his hand compared to her own chill. Pushing aside any distractions, she focused on the task at hand, determined to carry out her duties with precision and professionalism.

She could only see his eyes and that was enough to make her nervous.

She tried to push aside the fluttering in her stomach and the way her heart seemed to skip a beat every time their eyes met. This wasn't the time or place for distractions. She had a job to do, a patient relying on her steady hands and focused mind.

With each passing moment, Aurora found herself slipping further into the rhythm of the surgery. The sounds of the operating room faded into the background as she concentrated on her task, her movements precise and calculated.

"Alright, that's all," Harry declared as he completed the final stitch. "Thank you, everyone." With that, he was the first to leave the room.

Aurora hesitated, waiting until Harry had exited before entering herself. Alone with him, she couldn't shake the sudden surge of apprehension. Despite her nerves, she couldn't fathom why he had specifically called upon her to assist him.

"Dr. Knight. A moment," he intercepted her as soon as she emerged from the scrub room. She swallowed hard, her heart pounding, and obediently followed him.

Harry led her outside of the hospital to a small coffee cart situated right by the entrance.

"Dr. Styles, I—"

"Latte or Americano?" He cut her off before she could finish, his question unexpected.

"Latte," she nervously replied as he ordered an Americano for himself and a latte for her.

"Dr. Styles, I just wanted to apologize for my comment. I want you to know that it won't happen again," she confessed, her words rushed and tinged with remorse.

"I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to underestimate you in any way, Dr. Knight," he began after handing her the coffee and settling the bill with the vendor. "I'm certain that you're more than capable of handling not just an EKG, but any task thrown your way." He paid the woman and handed her drink. "I suppose I let the situation get the best of me. Just keep working as diligently as you have been, and you'll go far," he concluded before disappearing into the hospital.

Aurora remained behind, stunned by his words. As she processed his unexpected encouragement, she felt a newfound confidence settle within her.

Two months had passed since they began their tenure at the hospital. In that time, Aurora had forged strong bonds with Milo, Autumn, Daniel, and Abigail. However, Greyson had proven to be a persistent issue from day one. His reluctance to collaborate made him a challenge in a profession where teamwork was paramount.

As for Harry, he had remained standoffish. Since their last encounter, he hadn't directly addressed Aurora. Known for his impartiality and lack of favoritism, Harry maintained a neutral stance, assessing everyone solely on their ability to perform and execute.

“Right. Who will be assisting me today?” Harry asked as he looked around the operating room. His patient was being intervene due to a gun wound. He had already started operating, but though it would be a good idea to allow them to stitch up. “Milo and Aurora”.

Most of them had assisted him in the days prior, and today, Harry wanted both Milo and Aurora to have the opportunity to experience stitching up cardiac muscle.

Aurora silently recited the steps she had meticulously studied from textbooks and articles before entering the operating room. She made a conscious effort to recall every detail, anticipating that Harry might quiz them verbally. The nurse assisted Aurora in donning a gown and gloves, mirroring the nervous expression worn by Milo.

They positioned themselves opposite to Harry around the patient, they awaited instructions.

"Dr. Madden, could you assist me with this stitch?" Harry directed, prompting Milo to retrieve the necessary tools from the instrumental nurse. With careful precision, Milo attempted the stitch, mindful of Harry's guidance to ensure it held securely without compromising blood supply.

"I think that should do it," Milo ventured uncertainly, recalling Harry's recent advice on the importance of confidence in one's work.

"Very well. Dr. Knight, if you would?" Harry indicated to Aurora. Milo stepped aside, allowing her to take her turn. Aurora's task involved suturing the left coronary artery, a delicate procedure made more challenging by its angle relative to the heart. With a steady hand, Aurora cautiously slipped her fingers into the chest cavity, her nerves palpable.

Harry's reassuring voice broke through her anxiety. "Don't let it intimidate you," he encouraged, their eyes meeting in a moment of shared determination.

Aurora nodded silently, her focus returning to the intricate network of arteries illuminated by her headlamp. With determination, she began stitching, her concentration unyielding. The heart before them was far from healthy, but the man on the table had a family anxiously awaiting good news - a wife and two children relying on their expertise.

Suddenly, the monitor's alarming beep shattered the tense silence. Aurora's heart raced as she looked up, instantly gripped by nerves.

"What's happening?" Harry demanded, his voice sharp with urgency as he leaned over the cavity. "What did you do?" His tone rose with concern as he hurried to assist her in exploring the cavity.

"I didn't do anything!" Aurora protested, frantically searching for signs of bleeding around her stitches. "I followed the textbook guidelines," she muttered, her fear palpable.

Harry met her gaze, sensing her distress. "Find the source of the bleed," he instructed firmly, but the cavity was rapidly filling with blood. "Get a bag of O neg."

"I can't see anything," Aurora admitted, her panic mounting as she struggled to maintain composure.

"Think, Dr. Knight!" Harry urged, the urgency in his voice escalating. "The patient is crashing. What's your next move? Find the bleed!" His words reverberated in the operating room, but Aurora remained frozen in fear.

"Step away from the table, Dr. Knight," Harry commanded, his tone firm. "Leave the OR."

Feeling overwhelmed, Aurora hastily removed her gown and other attire, desperate for relief from the constriction. It was as if everything had become too tight, making it difficult to breathe or see clearly. Without a moment's hesitation, she fled the operating room and scrubbed out.

Navigating the hospital corridors, Aurora was acutely aware of the rising panic within her. Recognizing the signs of a panic attack, she sought solace in a nearby supply closet, allowing herself a moment of privacy to release her emotions. Though tears flowed freely, she couldn't shake the memory of her mother's advice never to cry in public, especially at work. Despite the overwhelming urge, Aurora remained composed, and like a good girl she followed the rules.

Twenty minutes elapsed before Harry emerged from the operating room. With a heavy sigh, he immediately noticed Aurora's absence, both outside the OR and in the scrub room. Removing his surgical cap, he made his way to the waiting room, his heart heavy with the weight of failure. Despite their efforts, the patient had succumbed to their condition, even after receiving extensive treatment with blood and adrenaline. Harry's attempts to resuscitate them had been in vain.

"I'll see you all in the conference room, and make sure the autopsy authorization is filled out by then," Harry commanded, addressing Milo, Autumn, Daniel, Greyson, and Abigail. "Where is Knight?" he inquired, noticing her absence. The interns remained silent, unsure of her whereabouts. "Regardless, proceed with requesting the autopsy."

After speaking with the family, Harry embarked on a search for Aurora. He scoured every corner of the hospital until he finally heard her sobbing in the supply room. Without hesitation, he used his key for access and entered, ensuring the door was closed behind him.

Aurora hastily wiped her tears and stood up from the floor as Harry entered.

"Dr. Styles," she managed to say between sobs, attempting to compose herself but unable to stop the tears from flowing. "I am sorry for what happened—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Harry's lips met hers. A rush of unexpected emotions flooded through him at the sight of her tears. He had always found her attractive, but he had maintained strict boundaries. Yet, in that moment, something shifted.

His fingers entwined in her hair as their kiss deepened. Initially taken aback, Aurora's confusion gave way to surrender. She allowed herself to be carried away by the intensity of the moment. Harry kissed her with a tenderness, but Aurora could feel the passion bruising her lips and swelling them.

As their kiss continued, time seemed to stand still. In that fleeting moment, Harry and Aurora were lost in each other, their worries and inhibitions fading into the background.

But just as quickly as it began, the reality of their situation came crashing back. Harry reluctantly pulled away, his fingers lingering on Aurora's cheek as they shared a silent, knowing look. They didn’t interchange any words. With a heavy heart, Harry turned and left the supply room, leaving Aurora alone with her thoughts and the echoes of their forbidden kiss.

"What happened to you? Are your interns driving you crazy already?" Niall inquired, joining Harry in the cafeteria where he sat with an untouched tray of food.

"Pretty much," Harry chuckled nervously, attempting to distract himself from the recent kiss he shared with Aurora.

"At least, there are some attactive ones," Niall added, digging into the burger he had ordered.

As Niall continued to talk about the interns, Harry found it increasingly difficult to focus on the conversation. Thoughts of Aurora and their momentary lapse in judgment lingered in his mind, casting a shadow over everything else.

"Yeah, they're certainly... interesting," Harry mumbled absentmindedly, his mind wandering back to the supply room where he had left Aurora.

Niall noticed the distraction in Harry's demeanor and raised an eyebrow. "Everything alright, mate?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Harry shook his head slightly, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, just a lot on my mind, you know?" he replied vaguely, not wanting to delve into the details.

Niall nodded understandingly, but the concern in his eyes didn't waver. "Well, if you ever need to talk about it, I'm here," he offered, placing a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Thanks," Harry said sincerely, grateful for his friend's support. But even as he tried to push aside the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to become even more complicated.

Harry contemplated confiding in Niall. He longed for advice, a listening ear to untangle the mess of emotions swirling inside him. But the fear of Niall inadvertently disclosing their conversation to the chief held him back. Despite his growing feelings for Aurora, Harry hesitated to jeopardize his career and reputation over a fleeting attraction.

He departed that day after assigning a substantial list of tasks that needed to be completed.

He had hoped that by leaving, he could silence the relentless thoughts racing through his mind. Yet, even after hitting the gym and attending pilates classes, nothing seemed to make a difference. Harry remained plagued by confusion over why he had walked away without a word.

Now, he realized he needed to have a conversation with her. He needed to explain why it had happened, to assure her that it was just a single mistake and nothing more.

The following day, Harry arrived at the hospital earlier than usual. After grabbing a coffee, he began his rounds, checking on his patients. However, just as he thought he would have some time alone and that Aurora wouldn't be around, he unexpectedly encountered her. She was seated on one of the vacant stretchers on the OR floor, engrossed in what appeared to be studying.

Not wanting to interrupt her concentration, Harry debated whether to approach. Yet, he knew he needed to pass by her to reach his destination.

"Dr. Knight," he addressed her, making a conscious decision to acknowledge her presence. Continuing on his path without expecting a response, he felt a surge of nervousness. His heart raced, pounding in his chest as if it might burst. Despite his expertise in cardiovascular surgery, his palms sweated profusely, giving the sensation of a heart attack to someone less accustomed to such symptoms.

"Dr. Styles, could I speak with you, please?" Her soft voice caught him off guard from behind.

"Sure," he replied, attempting to appear composed though his nerves were anything but. "Follow me." Leading her upstairs to the rooftop, Harry sought solace in his refuge during the most challenging times.

"Listen, Dr. Knight. I know that I was completely—"

"Dr. Styles, I just wanted to apologize for what happened in the OR—"

Their words collided as they spoke simultaneously, their apologies hanging in the air between them.

"I crossed a boundary yesterday, and I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm your superior, and I'm supposed to be your teacher instead of..." Harry rushed out, "It won't happen again."

Aurora was taken aback. She wasn't inclined to apologize for the kiss; in fact, she had quite enjoyed it. Nor did she want him to apologize for it. The realization that it wouldn't be repeated left her feeling disappointed.

"Yeah, alright, Dr. Styles," Aurora nodded, feeling as though her apology for the incident in the OR had been rendered unnecessary and brushed aside. Disappointed, she managed a small smile before leaving, too disheartened to continue the conversation or remain in his presence.

Harry remained upstairs, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him like an eternity. Suddenly, he heard the door open, accompanied by the sound of giggles. Glancing over his shoulder, he instantly recognized the couple: Niall with a third-year intern. Harry recalled her; he had been her advisor during her second year. They shared a kiss, and as Niall pulled away, his eyes met with Harry's.

Upon noticing Harry on the roof, the intern hastily retreated, eager to vacate the scene. Niall allowed her to run out before he approached Harry.

"Why are you here?" Niall asked, standing beside him, his embarrassment and nervousness palpable. He wasn't ashamed of their relationship, but he understood the potential consequences if they were discovered and reported.

"Just getting some air. You?" Harry replied casually.

"Look, Harry—" Niall began, but Harry interrupted him.

"No need to explain, Niall. I won't say anything," Harry reassured him. Even if he hadn't kissed Aurora, he wouldn't have exposed Niall's secret. "Is it worth it?"

"She is," Niall replied after a moment of silence. "Not everything is about work. We all need to enjoy life a little. What kind of life would it be if we never took any risks?"

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Harry admitted after a few moments. Life had grown mundane and routine lately. However, since Aurora had entered his life, things had become more exciting. Now, he found himself looking forward to going to the hospital.

As Harry reflected on the newfound excitement Aurora had brought into his life, he couldn't help but acknowledge the subtle shifts in his routine. Each day at the hospital held the promise of unexpected moments, whether it was a challenging surgery, a meaningful interaction with a patient, or even the briefest exchange with Aurora herself.

Despite the complications and risks inherent in their budding relationship, Harry felt a renewed sense of vitality and purpose. Perhaps taking a chance on love was worth the potential consequences. After all, life was meant to be lived fully, even if it meant stepping outside the boundaries of what was considered safe and predictable.

In the bustling atmosphere downstairs, Aurora found herself engrossed in the tasks of tending to outpatient consults and suturing wounds in the emergency room. It was a deliberate effort on her part to refine her skills; the prospect of returning to the operating room filled her with trepidation. Despite her best efforts to dissect every detail of the previous surgery in her mind, she remained uncertain about what had gone awry. Tempted to lay blame on Harry and the intense exchanges they had shared across the operating table, she struggled to shake off the lingering doubts.

Just as she was completing the discharge process for a woman who had sustained a laceration to her eyebrow, Aurora's pager buzzed urgently, summoning her to the cardiology wing. With a sense of urgency, she set aside her current tasks and hastened towards her next destination.

Much to her surprise, when Aurora arrived, Harry had summoned everyone.

"The autopsy has been completed. I thought it would be a good exercise to review it and identify where we may have gone wrong," Harry announced as she entered the room. "Dr. Knight, please take a seat," he instructed, handing a copy of the autopsy report to each person present.

Nervously, Aurora settled between Milo and Autumn, her apprehension palpable.

"Dr. Madden, please begin," Harry prompted, and the group delved into dissecting every detail of the report.

"So, what was the issue? Where did we go wrong?" Harry inquired after they had finished scrutinizing the final word.

Silence filled the room as everyone hesitated to speak. Aurora knew what had transpired, but she hesitated to voice her thoughts; she was reluctant to assign blame to anyone.

Silence lingered in the room as Harry's question echoed, met only by the sound of his watch ticking away the seconds. He glanced at the time, realizing his own time constraints. "I don’t have all day," he stated firmly, casting a discerning gaze over the assembled group. Among them, Aurora's eyes met his, devoid of the confusion evident in the others. He hesitated to call on her, torn between the desire for her insight and the fear of alienating her.

Before he could make a decision, Milo spoke up, his tone tinged with shame. "My stitches came undone, causing the cavity to fill with blood," he admitted, eyes downcast. Harry nodded, a plan forming in his mind.

"I'll arrange practice sessions for each of you next week to work on your skills. You're all dismissed. Dr. Knight, a word," he instructed as the others filed out of the room without protest. Once they were gone, Harry locked the door behind them.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to face Aurora, his demeanor softening. "I don't regret our kiss," he confessed, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his lips. "If it were up to me, I'd spend the whole day doing just that."

Despite her efforts to conceal it, her smile threatened to reveal her true feelings, while the blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her nervousness. Stepping closer to him, Aurora closed the distance between them, her arms encircling his neck as Harry's hands found their way to her hips. He pressed a kiss to her forearm, his gaze locked with hers, and in that moment, the world seemed to fade away around them.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the tension between them palpable, Harry couldn't help but feel a rush of conflicting emotions. He knew the risks involved in pursuing anything beyond a professional relationship with Aurora, yet he found himself unable to resist her magnetic pull.

Taking a deep breath, Harry leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. In that moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the intensity of their shared desire.

Aurora's hands deftly slid Harry's white coat off his broad shoulders, a sense of urgency in her touch. Harry reciprocated, lifting her effortlessly off the floor as their lips met in a fervent kiss. With a swift motion, he gently placed her on the nearby table, his hands moving with purpose to rid her of her scrubs.

"God, I've been craving this moment since the day we met," he murmured breathlessly, the heat between them igniting with his words. Every touch, every caress sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body, building a fire of desire that threatened to consume them both.

As Harry peeled off her top, Aurora's breath caught in her throat at the sight that greeted her. She hadn't expected to find intricate tattoos adorning his skin, each one a testament to a hidden side of him she longed to explore.

Aware of the ticking clock, Harry felt a sense of urgency creeping in. He understood the fleeting nature of the moment, knowing his beeper could disrupt their intimacy at any instant. With a swift motion, he lowered his pants just enough to free himself, his focus fixed on savoring every second.

As his lips trailed down her body, Harry uncovered her breasts, his mouth eagerly seeking out the tender breasts. With delicate precision, he lavished attention on each voluptuous, perky nipple, relishing the taste and texture beneath his touch.

"We're running out of time," she moaned, urgency lacing her words as she struggled to discard her pants. "I need you, now," she pleaded, her desire palpable. Harry's smile deepened as he peppered kisses along her neck, swiftly removing her pants with eager hands.

With a sense of determination, he pushed aside her underwear, his touch eliciting a shiver of anticipation. Slowly, he teased her wet folds with his head, each caress heightening her arousal. Finally, he entered her, their synchronized moans echoing in the room as they became one.

Their union was a symphony of passion and desire, the intensity building with each rhythmic thrust. Harry's movements were primal, driven by an unquenchable hunger for her. Aurora arched into him, her nails digging into his skin as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Lost in the sounds of ecstasy, they surrendered to the moment, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Every touch, every kiss, ignited a fire within them, consuming them with a raw, primal need.

As their climax approached, the world around them faded into oblivion, leaving only the pulsating rhythm of their entwined bodies. In that fleeting moment, they were consumed by an overwhelming sense of bliss.

As they reached their climax of pleasure, they let out a simultaneous cry of release, their souls intertwining in a moment of pure bliss.

But as the echoes of their passion faded into the night, reality came crashing back, reminding them of the world outside their cocoon of desire. With gentle kisses and whispered promises, they held onto each other, knowing that their love would endure whatever challenges lay ahead. Because even though Harry was risking his entire career by having sex with her in a conference room at the hospital, it was all worth it to him because he finally felt like he was living again.

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mistydeyes · 1 year ago

Note

I had an idea for a fic you might enjoy writing! Reader is injured in the abdomen during a mission (maybe a building collapse with a lil bit of impalement?) Which in itself is a great angst opportunity, but when She's medevac'd to a hospital to have surgery it ends up she is no longer able to have kids due to the damage. BUT WAIT 🫸 this isn't a run of the mill "upset because she can't have kids fic" everyone's worried about what her reaction to the news is going to be. But it turns out she NEVER wanted kids and is actually super cool with the fact she's sterile now? I just thought it would be fun twist! 🥚 Anon

ahhh thank you so much for requesting!! this is such a unique idea especially the little twist at the end :)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: After a sudden building collapse, you are left recovering in the hospital with an injury to your lower abdomen. You surprise the team when you tell them, that in your opinion, it hadn't hit anything vital.

pairing: Task Force 141 x platonic!fem!reader

warnings: swearing, depictions of violence and injury, medical inaccuracies/terminology

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

"IRIS, IRIS GET OUT OF THERE!" was the last thing you heard before your sight was darkened by falling rubble from the war-torn building. As you felt the crushing weight of concrete and miscellaneous items on your chest, you couldn't help but feel the warmth of liquid around your lower half. The air smelled sickly of iron as you slipped in and out of consciousness. You tried to feel around with a free arm but your tac vest was pinned and your comm spewed out random static and the loose strings of words. As your peripheral vision began to cloud with darkness, you could hear the thundering of boots towards your location. You felt a small smile on your lips before you fell completely out of consciousness.

When you woke up, the bed felt cold and the sheets offered minimal comfort. You tried to sit up but were pulled by tubes running throughout your body. You could hear the monitor beside your bed rapidly beep as your heart rate rose at the unfamiliar surroundings. The charge nurse came rushing in, reassuring you to lie back down as she clicked a few buttons on the monitor. As you cautiously laid down, she calmly took a breath and explained she would help to take out the tube currently lodged in your nostrils. "Hold your breath now, love," she calmly instructed before swiftly removing the device and allowing you to breathe in the fresh sterile air. You coughed for a few moments before she returned with a cup of ice chips. "Where am I?" you asked in between your crunches. "Base medical," she explained as she disposed of the nasogastric tube, "you were flown in yesterday." You nodded as you slowly swallowed some of the remaining water. "The doctor will want to talk to you though so I'll be back to check on you soon," she smiled and without another word, you were left alone in the room.

Almost on schedule, the doctor entered your room. As she hastily put on gloves and checked on your vitals, you sat there patiently. "Mind if I take a look under?" she asked and you nodded before you felt her cold hands move the lower half of your gown. As you met her gaze at your abdomen, you felt nauseous. "Are those stitches?" you asked shakily and she nodded as she fixed your gown. "You came in last night stabbed through and through with some rebar," she explained, taking a seat next to your bed, "your team was smart enough to carry you with it still in to minimize the blood loss." Your mouth felt dry as she continued and you couldn't shake that image of your iodine-stained and stitched stomach. "We were able to stabilize you but," she hesitated, "but unfortunately it penetrated through your uterus." Upon hearing this, you breathed a sigh of relief. As she looked at you skeptically, you were more than happy to share your life plan.

"You have some visitors, ma'am," the nurse called, making you feel much older than you were. As the curtain was pulled back, you smiled upon seeing the rest of the team. "Yer alive!" Soap exclaimed and was immediately met with a slap on the back by Ghost. "Alive with some shitty food more like it," you replied as you put aside your jello cup, "they have me on a liquid and soft foods diet." "We heard about that," Price said as he walked over, "how are you holding up?" "I'm doing alright, doctor told me it didn't hit anything major," you replied happily, to the surprise of the surrounding group. "But, it went through your lower stomach and…" Gaz trailed off as he averted his eyes from your body. "My uterus Garrick?" you said laughing, "Don't need that anyway." There was a moment of awkward silence as they mulled over your response. "What?" you asked as you examined the shocked faces surrounding your bed, "didn't want kids anyways." To your surprise, Ghost laughed and you couldn't help but join in with his low tones. "You think I could actually keep up with little demon spawns? I was glad when the doctor told me it hadn't hit anything vital like my liver." As you wiped away the tears that had formed from your laughter, the team took a breath and smiled at your antics. "Good to have you back, Iris."

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endless-summer-soldier · 1 year ago

Text

dr. feelgood - chapter two

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

a/n: the response to this fic has been so unexpected and it's honestly amazing! thank you all so much for reading. a lot of this series is based on grey’s anatomy but I’m putting my own spin on it! all the positive feedback is motivating me to write more often so I’m going to try to post new chapters on a somewhat weekly schedule.

warnings: must be 18+, drinking, some surgery descriptions, smut, self-pleasure, praise kink, very minor character death, unprotected sex, rough sex

Word count: 1.5k

series playlist: here

taglist: @sebsgirl71479 @ozwriterchick @notmeddy @drewsuncrustables @lokidokieokie @hextech-bros @nats-whore @m4nulup1n @arcanebabe @tanyaspartak (message me to be added!)

series masterlist

I had to drag myself out of bed the next morning. I was dreading going to the hospital. Mainly because I was nervous to see the hot doctor I’d accidentally slept with. I didn’t know what to say to him. I wasn’t sure if we should talk about it or just pretend like it never happened. And he was so damn coy it was difficult to tell what he was thinking.

Once we were changed into scrubs, we met with Palmer to go through rounds. As we visited each patient, our knowledge was tested on their diagnoses and treatment plans. Palmer would assign an intern to each of the cases to assist with patient treatment and potential surgeries. Once rounds were finished, I was the last intern left and I eyed Palmer inquisitively.

“Y/L/N, you will be working with Dr. Barnes today.”

I felt nervous butterflies in my stomach, “Oh, I just thought I’d be working with one of these patients,” I said, trying to get out of it.

“Nope, Barnes specifically requested you. He’s down in the pit.”

“Got it,” I replied. I trudged to the elevator that would take me down to the ER, wondering how I was going to handle this.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, nurses were scrambling, prepping beds and trauma rooms.

“There’s my intern!” I heard from across the way. “Good morning Y/L/N,” he said, calling me by my last name. While this was common in the medical field, it felt oddly chummy coming from him.

“Hi Dr. Barnes. What do we have today?” I faked a smile.

“Collision in a bicycle race, multiple injuries, a few pretty serious. The ambulance is on the way. Put on one of those gowns and follow me.” I took a yellow disposable gown and donned it over my scrubs, along with a set of surgical gloves. Then I followed Bucky to the back entrance of the ER where the ambulances would arrive.

The two of us stood there for a moment in silence, listening for the wail of sirens that were sure to arrive any minute. There was a chill in the air which gave me shivers and ultimately put me on edge. I wasn’t good with uncomfortable silence, but I bit my tongue, determined not to give in first.

I lost that imaginary contest.

“Why did you lie to me?” I asked, turning toward him.

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“You told me your name was Bucky.”

“My name is Bucky. It’s what all my friends call me. It’s a nickname from when I was growing up.”

“Then why hasn’t anyone here called you Bucky.”

He sighed, “James is more professional so it's what I use at work. Think about it, who would want a surgeon named Bucky operating on them.”

I considered his point for a moment and realized I believed him. Before I could retort he added, “You weren’t exactly honest with me. You never said you were a doctor.”

I immediately became defensive, “I was just looking for a hookup, not someone to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Oh that was very clear when you hit on me.”

My jaw dropped, “The way I remember it, you hit on me.”

“Mmm…you’re probably right. I do have a thing for gorgeous women drinking tequila by themselves.”

I ran my tongue across my teeth in an attempt to fight the smile that was attempting to spread across my face.

“Okay, you know what, I’m pretending like that night never happened. We are starting fresh today. I am your intern and that’s it. No more flirting with me.”

“Whatever you say, Y/L/N,” he said, flashing me that irresistible smile. I shifted my attention away from his handsome face as the sound of sirens came into earshot.

The gurneys flowed in with injuries ranging from concussions to flesh wounds. I quickly made a move for one of the cases that I guessed to be surgical. The patient was an attractive male in his early thirties. He had three bicycle spokes poking out of his abdomen but was speaking perfectly normally.

“What happened here?” I asked him, inspecting the wounds.

“Just another day in the life,” he replied.

I chuckled, “You make it a habit of ending up in the ER?”

“It’s the best way to meet hot doctors,” he flirted. I stopped my inspection to stare at him, finding myself oddly charmed.

“What’s your name?” I said, pulling out a clipboard to fill out some paperwork.

“Quentin Beck.”

“Well Quentin Beck, I’m going to remove these spokes and stitch up your abdomen. Then I recommend we send you to CT just to ensure there isn’t any additional damage.”

“Ooh I don’t know about that. I’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Leaving so soon?” I joked.

“Can’t miss the big afterparty. I’ll see you there right?”

“You wish,” I applied a numbing agent to his wounds before carefully removing the spokes. I pulled off his shirt and started working on his sutures. Quentin kept trying to talk and I continued to shush him, focusing on tending to his wounds.

“You really should go to CT,” I said as I finished stitching him up and admired my work.

“No can do darling. My presence is expected elsewhere.”

I shook my head in disapproval, “Well I’m going to need you to sign a form that says you’re leaving against medical advice.”

“I will sign anything you ask me to.” I handed him a clipboard and showed him where to sign. He scribbled his signature, handed the clipboard back to me and stood up to leave the room. Then he doubled back and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulled me towards him, and kissed me, taking me completely by surprise.

When he pulled away he said, “That was for good luck.” Then he turned and walked out of the room, leaving for the hospital.

At that moment, I looked through the blinds and saw Bucky standing there, having witnessed the entire exchange. He had a surprised yet smug expression on his face

“Did you just make out with a patient?” he asked, leaning on the door jamb.

I had no words for what had just happened. “He just…kissed me…” I eventually managed.

“So that’s your type, huh?”

“I don’t have a type.”

“No? You don’t like world class doctors with irresistible charm?”

“Are you jealous?” I teased.

“Maybe I am,” he added with a smile. “But I could really use your help with a patient.”

“Of course,” I followed him out of the room and tried to shift my focus back to work. One of the patients was having difficulty breathing and needed to be intubated.

“Have you done this before?” he asked me.

“Not on a real patient,” I replied.

He smiled, “We’re going to change that.” He instructed me to get in position towards the patient's head. He handed me the necessary equipment and talked me through it. I felt my nerves increasing, not sure if I was ready to do this.

He seemed to pick up on this because then he said, “Hey, don’t panic. You can do this. I’ll be right here if you need help.” I nodded and took a deep breath, focusing on what he instructed. I had to make sure I inserted the tube into the trachea and not the esophagus. I angled the device to where Bucky had described and carefully fed the tube downwards. I looked toward him for confirmation I had done it correctly.

“Now place your hand on his chest and see if air is filling the lungs.” I did as he instructed and felt the gentle inflation of the patient’s chest.

“Yeah, I think I can feel it.” He placed his hand next to mine, overlapping ever so slightly to confirm the intubation had been successful.

He nodded and smiled at me, “Yeah you got it. Great job Dr. Y/L/N.” I couldn’t hide the smile spreading across my face and the rush that was hitting me. This was the feeling I’d been chasing for the past few years. This was why I wanted to become a surgeon.

I watched as Bucky continued his examination to determine what the patient needed. He appeared to have a few external injuries but nothing that major.

“His abdomen is swollen, so he might have some internal injuries. Y/L/N, can you take him down to CT.”

“Absolutely,” I replied. And just like that Bucky was gone, off to the next patient. I wheeled down the John Doe we just intubated to get his scans.

Once the CT was complete, I held up his scans to study them. There was severe internal bleeding in the abdomen that would likely require surgery. I paged Bucky, knowing he would need to make the ultimate call.

It didn’t take him long to answer the page. I had the scans displayed against the backlights and was studying them. He walked into the room and said, “What do you see?”

“Internal bleeding.”

“It looks like it’s coming from the kidneys. We need to get in there, stat. Book an OR.”

“Got it,” I replied, leaving the room to complete my task.

“Oh and Y/L/N? Great work today. I’ll see you in the OR.”

“I’m scrubbing in?” I asked, astounded.

He nodded with his signature smile, “You’re scrubbing in.”

next chapter

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes doctor au #bucky barnes slow burn #bucky barnes x you

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thomasce · 7 months ago

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Autopsy Reference Page

A little intro:

I worked in a morgue for about a year as an autopsy assistant / intern. I have a portfolio and a certificate and everything. I've seen a lot of character designs with autopsy scars in them and stories with autopsies featured as a major event and wanted to provide some information on how autopsies through the justice system work, specifically FROM MY EXPERIENCE. This will not apply to private autopsies, though I will include a little bit of what I know about those at the end of this post.

If you are sensitive to gore, go ahead and skip this page. If you like writing gore or learning more about this stuff, welcome!

First thing's first: Who approves an autopsy?

Generally, it is the District Attorney. A DA will approve an autopsy for the following reasons:

It's a suspicious death

It was caused by the victim (self-inflicted)

It was an obvious homicide

It falls under the conditions stated in the state's constitution or laws

What conditions could those be?

This is going to sound really morbid, but most states have a clause that dictates any deaths in which the decedent is under 12 months of age must be autopsied. That's the biggest reason cited in laws outside of criminal justice cases.

Who performs an autopsy?

The people performing the actual evisceration are called Medical Examiners. In order to be a medical examiner, you must have a Medical Doctorate and be board certified in Forensic Pathology.

The Medical Examiner will also have a team of Forensic Pathology Technicians that help them before, during, and after evisceration. They often consist of both Dry Techs and Wet Techs. The difference between the two is that Dry Techs do not dress out in personal protective equipment (PPE) and will log things in whichever system the lab utilizes. Wet Techs assist in the autopsy by taking x-rays, removing organs, and weighing the organs.

What is PPE?

Standard PPE consists of a plastic gown, double disposable gloves to the wrist, disposable gloves to the elbow, boot covers, a surgical mask, a face shield, and what is known as a bouffant cap (the hair net / cap things you see surgeons wear in tv shows and movies).

The order I always put my PPE on was: boot covers, gown (with thumbs through the thumb holes), gloves #1, face mask, bouffant cap, gloves #2, face shield, elbow gloves.

Let's get into what you guys are really here for:

What does a standard autopsy look like?

So I like to make a distinction between these three stages: pre-autopsy, autopsy, post-autopsy.

Pre-autopsy is everything that happens before the body is open. This includes:

Weighing the gurney with the body bag on it

Moving the body bag from the gurney to the autopsy table

Taking pictures of the body bag BEFORE the seal is opened

Cutting the seal

Taking pictures of the body in the bag

Moving the body out of the bag

Taking more photos of the front, side, back, arms, and hands

Drawing toxicology (blood, urine, vitreous)

Taking fingerprints

The autopsy is when the Y-incision is created and the following occurs:

The organs of the thoracic cavity are taken, weighed, and eviscerated

The organs of the abdominopelvic cavity are taken, weighed, and eviscerated

The head is opened and the brain is taken, weighed, and eviscerated

The pituitary gland is removed

The esophagus and tongue are taken, weighed, and eviscerated

All organs are placed into a plastic bag

Post-autopsy includes:

Moving the body back to the bag

Placing the bag inside the thoracic cavity

Stitching the Y-incision closed

Cleaning any instruments used

Cleaning all surfaces, including the autopsy table and sink

Mopping the floor

In my experience, some of the things done during pre-autopsy, such as drawing toxicology and fingerprinting, can be done during the actual autopsy.

Why is toxicology important?

Toxicology is how we gain DNA and fluids for testing. Vitreous (fluid from the eyes) and Urine (fluid from the bladder) can be tested for metabolism of ethanol (alcohol) and other substances. Blood is used in testing for things like ethanol (alcohol) and CO (carbon monoxide) as well as DNA for identification.

Why do we need blood for identification?

In homicide cases, two forms of scientific identification are necessary. The order of importance / credibility of DNA collection is:

Visual identification - if they have an ID on them and we can tell that they are the person on the ID

Blood - a blood stain card is taken to test for identity

Fingerprints

Dental - if we have NOTHING ELSE, a forensic odontologist is called in to compare dental records to the teeth of the decedent

Little facts:

We do the Y-incision specifically for the funeral homes

Anything that you die with that the police doesn't collect for the family before the autopsy is put in holding until your body is released to the funeral home - including money

When blood has CO in it, it becomes a dark cherry red

Different needle sizes are used for drawing toxicology. The smallest size used is a 25-gauge. The largest is a 16-gauge.

Blood is drawn in this order: femoral (thigh), pericardial (around the heart), cardiac (in the heart)

Private autopsies are costly, ranging from $3000 to $5000

i think that's everything important. If you have any questions, have any additions, or find that this helped, send me an ask and let me know!

Be free!!!

#writeblr #writing reference #writing research #writing related #autopsy #forensics

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pavlovianfuckery · 5 months ago

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paging dr debeers and his atrocious bedside manner, it's very urgent actually

MASTERLIST

i hope the whole 'taking one (1) comment about playing doctor and running with it like he stole it' thing isn't too out of character, but i mean this is the guy who dressed up as an old dude complete with fake beard for the sole reason of convincing his asshole dad-sicle that he'd been frozen for decades just to fuck with him, so...what can i say, i fought my inner demons and lost, badly

linky for those more ao3-ly inclined: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56619892

4.5k words of smut under the tag, dr malpractice md is in the house, minors dni and all that stuff

It had started with just one mostly innocent comment, a joke really. You couldn't recall exactly what had been said, just that you'd mentioned 'playing doctor', he'd made a sarcastic comment about it, and that had been that. It had been days ago, so you'd thought nothing of it when you received a text from him that simply said:

Shady Plots, 9 PM. Use the back door.

The first thing that hits you as the door swings open is the smell of rubbing alcohol. The second thing is that he really went all in on this. There is an entire area of the room set up like a doctor's office, or as close as you can get considering that the basement of a funeral home isn't exactly built for it. Sure, the 'examination table' is more like a mortuary table with a sheet on it, but he's clearly been busy.

For starters, there is a desk set up with things you'd expect to find, like a box of nitrile gloves, medical lubricant, gauze and other various things, but there's also a set of instruments neatly laid out. It consists mostly of traditional equipment like a blood pressure cuff, a reflex hammer and so on, but there are also some more unexpected things thrown in the mix. The most obvious ones are a couple of soft hanks of rope, a wand vibrator, and what looks to be a disposable speculum. There is also a set of padded restraints designed to go around your neck and wrists which you pick up, anticipation curling low in your belly.

"Well, he's clearly got the evening planned..." You look around, but you can't see him anywhere. Just as you're about to call out for him, you notice that the rolling office chair by the desk has what looks like a paper gown folded on it, and on top of that, a note with your name. The message on the back of it is short and to the point:

Put this on and wait. The doctor will see you shortly. B

The gown is open in the back which isn't in itself unusual, but it's so short that it only barely covers you, which turns out to be a bit uncomfortable as you sit down on the edge of the table to wait. It's cold, and he does keep you waiting, though it's probably only about ten minutes. It's still plenty of time to get you restless and by the time that the door at the top of the stairs opens, closes and then locks, you're nearly crawling out of your skin.

He's all business as he walks over to the back door and proceeds to lock that too, not even glancing your way. Rather than throwing on a white coat and calling it a day, he has apparently committed to the role. Between the dark slacks, dress shirt and stethoscope around his neck he's already selling it, but he's got an almost suspiciously official-looking ID card hanging on a lanyard too. He even changed his hair, his usual messy style exchanged for something combed down and sensible. All in all, this might be the most straight-laced you've ever seen him.

"So, " he flips through the papers on the clipboard he's carrying, still barely looking at you,"you're here for a physical, is that correct?"

"Um, yes?" You clear your throat and nod, feeling a bit awkward. "Yes, that's right."

"Any medical history I should be aware of?" He flips through the papers again, apparently only listening with half an ear.

"No, I don't think so." You watch him put the clipboard down on the desk and grab a pair of gloves before turning back to you.

"Are there any concerns that you wish to discuss before we begin?"

"No, none."

"Very good." He snaps the gloves on with a few practiced movements. "Let's start with taking a look at your lungs." Unhooking the stethoscope, he gives you a quick nod. "Turn around."

The metal is cold as it makes contact with your skin, almost making you pull away.

"Now, breathe." He's so close that the words ruffle the hairs at the back of your neck, his voice smooth and low. It tickles and you squeeze your legs together, trying to ignore the goosebumps that erupt all over your body. "And again. Deep breaths."

You're not sure if he's actually listening or pretending, but that's hardly the point. When he's satisfied, he turns away and scribbles something on the clipboard.

"Nothing out of the ordinary there." He clicks his pen a few times before putting it down. "Now face me." He almost looks bored as he slides the end of the stethoscope down under the flimsy paper gown, settling it approximately where your heart should be. "Try to relax," he tells you, "just keep breathing..."

It's not as easy as it sounds, because as he moves the end of the stethoscope around your chest he keeps grazing your nipples seemingly on accident, making them pucker in the cool air. You're almost certain that he's not actually listening, but he still jots something down on the clipboard.

"Seems to be in working order." When he fishes a penlight from his breast pocket and shines it in your eyes without warning you jerk back without really meaning to, blinking furiously. "No," he says evenly and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him, "none of that." The way he keeps moving the light around and turning it off and on again is disorienting, quickly making your head start to spin.

"Pupillary reaction appears normal," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your cheek. With the bright light blinding you, you hadn't realized just how close he was. It makes you itch to touch him, but you resist. He's gone to all this trouble so the least you can do is try to be a model patient, even if he makes it difficult. When he lets you go, you shake your head to try and clear the stars stubbornly dancing in front of your eyes.

"I'll need to check your mouth and throat next," he mutters, and you can hear him rifle around the desk before returning, "Open." Even though it's just a piece of wood you can feel your cheeks heating up as he slides the tongue depressor into your mouth. "Wider." He's close enough that you can count his eyelashes as he cradles your jaw in his hand and squeezes, forcing it open. Being close to him is nothing new, but it's different from being outright studied like this, like you're just a sample under a microscope. It's intimate in a way you're not used to.

"Hm..." He removes the tongue depressor and discards it in the nearby trash can. "Let me get a closer look."

When his finger slides into your mouth, you freeze, heartbeat thundering in your ears. It's completely dispassionate as he runs his finger over your teeth and gums. When he adds another and presses your tongue down you try to meet his eyes, but there is just nothing there, his expression a blank mask. He holds you there, casually invading your mouth as he glances at his watch. When the built-up drool starts to run down his hand he briefly adds a third finger, gagging you just a little before pulling away, discarding the gloves.

"That's interesting," he makes another note, though you can't see what he's writing from where you're sitting.

"What?" You wipe your chin and do your best to catch your breath.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with." His tone is airy as he snaps a new pair of gloves on, then picks the reflex hammer up, scooting closer on the rolling chair.

"Now relax, this will only take a minute." As he glides his hand up your leg his fingertips linger at the back of your knee, making your skin tingle as he tests your reflexes on first one side, then the other. Something about the result seems to displease him because he tuts and repositions your legs, stroking the inside of your thighs as he does so. "You're so tense, why is that?"

'Truly a mystery for the ages,' you think, but you don't say it out loud. "I don't really know, sorry."

The second time around it seems to work better because he backs off, going back to his notes for a moment.

"Remove the gown, please." His telling you to undress isn't anything out of the ordinary, but the way he's watching you is completely cold and it's making your skin crawl."Next I will perform a breast exam, "he continues,"you will keep your hands in your lap and be still." Once the gown is off you obediently put your hands in your lap, waiting to see what he'll do. He doesn't give you time to respond before beginning, starting to clinically feel his way through each breast, more thoroughly than you thought he'd be.

"Good." He steps back, apparently satisfied and you let out a sigh of relief. "Now stand up, turn around and put your hands behind your head."

As soon as you do it, he steps in uncomfortably close, then starts repeating the process from the back.

"Have you noticed any pain or discomfort?" His breath is hot on your ear, making it hard to focus.

"Not that I..." You trail off, because he keeps stroking you in that way you know that he knows you like, which is very distracting. When he brushes against your ass you can feel that he's at least half hard, and it's nearly enough to make you break character but you soldier on, determined to see this through. "Not that I've noticed, no."

"I see." He pinches one of your nipples and rolls it between his fingers, making you gasp. "How does this feel? Pleasurable?"

You bite your lip, trying not to moan.

"Please, Bla-"

"Answer the question," he cuts you off, voice stern, "does this feel pleasurable?"

"Yes..." Your legs feel like jelly, and if you didn't have any pain or discomfort before, you certainly do now.

"I see." Then he lets you go, making you stumble to right yourself. You can hear the scratching of pen on paper as he adds to his notes, helpfully reading them out loud as he does so. "Patient exhibits signs of elevated arousal during palpation of breast..."

You can barely look at him. In character or not, does he really have to put it like that? When you think that it can't get any worse, he keeps proving you wrong.

"I'll be taking your temperature now." In his hand is indeed a thermometer, which would be less of a problem if he'd gotten a forehead or even an oral one, but it seems you've got no such luck. "Would you like to lie down, or do you prefer to remain standing for it?"

Neither sounds like an attractive option, honestly. For reasons you can't quite articulate, the thought of him doing that to you feels wrong somehow. Which on reflection is kind of funny since it's not like you've never had him inside of you in different ways before, so it really shouldn't be a problem.

"I, uh, whichever one is easier?"

"Standing, then." He either doesn't notice your distress or is simply choosing to ignore it, barely sparing you with a glance as he dispenses the lubricant. "Bent over the table is acceptable."

Leaning over the table on your elbows you try to not think about what he's about to do. How can he be so-

"I believe I said bent over." Placing the thermometer on the table in front of you, he puts his hand between your shoulder blades and pushes you down. "That's better." Then you feel him slip his knee between your legs, spreading your legs apart. "And that's perfect. Now, just try to relax..."

It's uncomfortable as he starts sliding it in, but all you can do is bury your face in your hands with a whine and wait for it to be over. The entire time he keeps touching you, sliding his hand over your buttocks and the backs of your thighs, and it feels like an eternity passes before he pulls it back out.

"Temperature is normal, so that's good."

You press your forehead to the cool surface of the table with a sigh, not sure what else he's got in store and getting worried about whether you really want to find out. Then he's caging you in with his arms, rubbing himself against you as he leans down.

"I will need you to answer some questions for me," he murmurs right by your ear, "before we can move on to the pelvic exam." Then he pushes off of you, discards the gloves he was wearing and grabs the clipboard. Leaning back against the desk, he clicks his pen impatiently. "You can get back up, by the way. Sit."

Your legs feel weak and shaky as you clamber back up on the table, but he at least waits for you to get as comfortable as you can on the hard surface before leafing through his papers until he finds what is apparently the correct form.

"So," he clicks the pen a few more times, probably just to annoy you, "let's get started. Are you currently sexually active?"

"Yes." This doesn't seem so bad, you can totally do this.

"Mm-hm. And when did you last have sex?" It's a miracle that he can keep a straight face because if anyone knows the answer to that question, it's him. Still, you'll play along.

"Last Tuesday."

"Did you reach orgasm and, if yes, how many times?" He's still not dropped out of character once, so you decide to mess with him.

"I think I did? Really not sure," you shrug, "the guy didn't seem to know what he was doing, so the jury's out on that one."

You think maybe you see the corner of one eye twitch, but that's all. It was worth a try, but you suspect you're going to pay for it fairly soon.

"I see. When did you last masturbate?"

"The day before yesterday."

"And you reached orgasm, I assume? How many times?"

That one makes you blush, just a little.

"Yes, I...twice."

"Have you ever or do you currently use a sexual device, alone or with a partner? If yes, how often and what type of device?"

He must be having an absolute ball with this, because the questions just keep coming, covering everything from what sex positions you prefer to what age you were when you first started masturbating to whether you have any fetishes or paraphilias. By the end of it you're ready to dig a hole, crawl into it and pull it in after you, never to be seen again.

"I think I've got most of what I need." He puts the clipboard down and gets his phone out. "A few photographs for your file, and we can get started on the pelvic exam."

He's as detached about taking photos as he's been about everything else tonight, positioning you this way and that as if you're no different from a mannequin, but it's definitely working for you in a way you had not been anticipating. It's about a dozen or so photos before he's satisfied, covering a variety of angles and body parts, though he's careful to avoid your face.

"There. You can lay back on the examination table now." It's even more uncomfortable laying down on it than just sitting. He must've seen you grimace, because he shrugs his coat off and folds it up, sliding it under your head as a makeshift pillow. "Better?"

"Yes, thanks." It shouldn't be anything but the small gesture still makes your chest feel tight. You do your best not to show it, watching as he pushes the sleeves of his shirt up and puts on a new pair of gloves.

"Open your legs for me." The lack of any stirrups makes it a bit awkward but putting your feet up on the table helps, so you make it work. This isn't the first time he's had his face between your thighs but it almost feels like it, and it makes you wish that you could cover up. It would probably be easier to bear if he wasn't just looking at you, but the reappearance of his little pen light doesn't exactly help to put you at ease, either.

When he touches you it's almost gentle, fingertips pushing and prodding as he examines you, taking the occasional break to jot something down. You can't really see much from this angle and he's talking so quietly that it's difficult to hear everything he's saying, but you pick up enough to get the general gist of it, that everything is basically fine and exactly as it should be.

"Well, on the surface everything appears completely healthy but I will need to do some further testing to make sure."

"What kind of..." you trail off as he runs a finger back and forth over your clit, making the breath catch in your throat.

"Just muscle tone and flexibility mostly," he says dismissively, clicking the penlight off. "Nothing you need to worry about."

This naturally makes you worry even more, which is no doubt deliberate on his part.

When he slides two fingers into you without any warning it's got you gripping the edges of the table, struggling to stay still.

"Squeeze around my fingers, please." Your body is already wanting to clamp down on its own, so it's not a big ask. "And again." He makes you repeat it another six or seven times before he tells you to stop. "Good." Face impassive, he drives his fingers right into your g-spot and presses his thumb to your clit, making you gasp. "How does this feel?"

"That's, hah, really good..."

"Mm-hm." He presses his other hand down on your stomach as he massages you from the inside. "And this?"

"As if you don't know," you moan, legs trembling. It's embarrassing how he can pick you apart like this, with just a few twists of his fingers. "Don't stop, please..."

So of course, he does. You close your eyes, cursing quietly to yourself as you hear him walking off, and then there is the scratch of that fucking pen again as he no doubt scribbles down his findings.

"Patient presents with," he mutters as he writes, "increased production of vaginal secretions during digital exam..."

You can't see what he's doing, but you can hear him rattling things around and then the squeak of the lubrication bottle.

"I'll be testing your flexibility next," he strokes your leg with the back of his hand, "so just try to relax." The lubricant is cold, but thankfully it warms up quickly as he slides his fingers back into you. He starts with two, but quickly adds a third, thrusting gently a few times. You're already twitching on the table, but when he begins adding a fourth finger you can't hold still anymore.

"Am I going to have to restrain you?" It's clearly supposed to be a threat but it has the opposite effect, making you clench around his fingers without meaning to.

"I'm sorry, I'll do better, I promise!" That promise turns out to last for all of three seconds though, so he gives a long-suffering sigh and pulls his fingers out, discarding the gloves.

For a moment you think that you might have ruined it, but then he fetches the restraints. He slides them onto your wrists and tightens them as if he's done it hundreds of times before, but rather than use the collar part like you were expecting he connects it to the bottom frame of the table, trapping your hands over your head as he tightens it. Not stopping there, he goes for the rope next.

"You know..." he says, securing your ankles to your thighs with a few knots, "you're a fairly troublesome patient. We will have to work on that in the future." Then he secures the ends of each rope underneath the table, leaving you unable to close or barely move your legs as he pulls it taut.

"Now, where were we?" Snapping a fresh pair of gloves on, he wastes no time squeezing out some more lube and going right back to tormenting you. This time around he goes right to three fingers, beginning to slip the fourth in almost straight away. It goes in easily and when it does, he hooks them up and presses the heel of his hand against your clit.

"Flexibility seems good," he wiggles his hand back and forth a few times, the squelching noises loud in the quiet room. "Does this hurt?"

"No, it's good, please, oh please..." It makes your toes curl, and you can't hold back a moan. If he keeps this up, you're going to come.

"I see." And then the pressure on your clit is gone as he changes the angle and probes around your entrance with his thumb. As he starts pushing that into you too, you struggle against the restraints, not that it does you any good.

"Oh, you are so mean," you groan, head dropping back which releases a faint trace of his scent from his bunched up coat.

When he slips into you up to his wrist it feels like he could reach up into you and squeeze the life from your lungs, or perhaps your heart if you're not careful. He doesn't dignify your outburst with a response as he continues with the 'examination'.

"Cervix and posterior fornix appear normal," he murmurs, wholly uncaring of the desperate noises falling from your mouth as he probes your insides. When he twists his hand and massages deep inside, your entire lower body starts tingling, and for a second you think you might come, or perhaps pass out. He's apparently focused on reducing you to a drooling mess tonight.

"Blaine...please!" You didn't mean to yell, but it slips out before you can stop it, making him frown as he pulls his hand out, leaving you empty and whimpering.

"Will I have to gag you as well?" You're not sure if that's supposed to be a genuine question or not, because he doesn't wait for a response before going back to his clipboard. "Patient exhibiting highly increased signs of arousal on stimulation of anterior fornix." He sounds entirely unaffected as he writes it down.

You don't see him grab the speculum but you can hear the crinkle as he rips the packaging open and the lube bottle being squeezed again, then he's hunched between your legs.

"This might be cold," he quickly warns, then slides the clear plastic instrument into you. As he starts turning the screw and opening you up he continues, "You might find this next part of the exam slightly uncomfortable, by the way."

Once the speculum is cranked open to his liking he grabs his phone again, making you blush as he snaps a few quick photos, including what is probably the closest close-up you've ever had. After flicking through the photographs he nods to himself, then steps off to the side and gets a tripod out, positioning it between your legs. You can only watch as he snaps his phone to it and turns it on, fiddling with the zoom and the angle until he's satisfied that he's capturing every intimate detail before hitting record.

"Now I will manually stimulate you until you reach orgasm," he states, partly for you, partly for the recording."and the camera will record your vaginal and cervical movements." When he sees the look on your face, he explains, "For your file, you see. Shall we get started?"

He goes to stand next to you, running a gloved hand down your body, carefully studying your reactions as he settles two of his fingers on your clit. For a moment you consider trying to fight it, but the promise of finally getting to come is too much. And besides, you're not even sure if you could fight it at this point.

As he rubs you his eyes never once stray from your face, making your cheeks burn. He's entirely methodical, expertly drawing you right up to the edge and keeping you there for what feels like forever. By the end of it your eyes are stinging with frustrated tears and the fact that you're being recorded is completely forgotten about. The only things that seem to matter are his cold eyes drawing you in and the slick feeling of his fingers on you.

"Please," it comes out garbled, words almost entirely out of reach as he reduces you to a keening mess, "please, oh fuck, please, Blaine..."

Despite how much you beg, he doesn't change anything about what he's doing except put his free hand over your mouth, drawing the moment out like a piece of rubber until the tension inside you is ready to snap and there's a high-pitched noise ringing in your ears. When you tip over the edge it's almost too good, too intense, but the only thing you can do is let it happen, convulsing helplessly as the scream bubbling up through your throat is muffled in the palm of his hand.

When your head slowly stops spinning you're only dimly aware of him stepping away and the tiny 'beep' as he stops the recording. You're still sucking down huge lung-fulls of air, and it barely registers when he loosens the restraints and undoes the knots, settling you down in a more comfortable position. For a minute you feel almost too weak to even move, and by the burning in your shoulders and hips you know you're going to be sore tomorrow, but that doesn't feel very important right now.

"Feel better?" He's leaning nonchalantly against the edge of the desk, clipboard in hand, watching you ungracefully try to sit up.

"Oh my god..." You hide your face in your hands, "you're a monster, you know that? Fuck." As you come down from your high the cold starts seeping into your bones, so you grab his bunched-up coat and drape it over your shoulders. It's not very warm but it'll have to do for now.

"Noted. So..." he flips through the papers and frowns."I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that you seem to be suffering from a severe case of hysteria, I'm afraid. But the good news is that it's very much a curable condition. The treatment is available in both oral form and as a vaginal suppository, to be taken nightly for at least one week." He scribbles something in his notes, then continues, "I can administer the first dose right now, so let me know which treatment form you'd prefer."

Then he smiles at you for the first time this evening, blank mask finally cracking."Do keep in mind that no matter which one you choose, you're going to feel a prick."

#blaine debeers #izombie #blaine debeers x reader #english as second language warning #my shitty shitty writing (affectionate)#my fic tag

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alostwanderernotfound · 3 months ago

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Hostile Power Takeover? Learnings on Urban & Domestic Warfare , “PANDEMICS: How We are Spreading Diseases”:

Want to Stop Pandemics?

We Need to Address How Our Systems Contribute to Disease Spread & How It Is Making Pathogens Stronger

1: Understaffing & too much workload

- When it comes to the greatest factor that influences every other issue in preventing the spread of infectious disease in healthcare settings it is workload vs amount of staffing. Overburdening staff results in more medical errors, more issues missed, less time with patients, less time able to be spent per patient, often limited ability to customize treatment plans, less diseases screened for, less infectious control practices used like hand washing, more grouping of sick people in close proximity, using unsafer practices to save time, attempting tasks distracted, & many other sources of both harm & pathogen spread. This issue is inseparable from safety.

2: Need for Universal safety practices in hospital culture

-Often times many hospitals throughout different regions have different training programs with some similar content & some very different content included in their training. There are some safety-related practices that are not taught universally. I think the lack of standardization across the world has really negatively impacted us. As healthcare, healthcare staff, our healthcare buildings change & evolve, these safety practices can get lost along the way.

For example: Pathogens all spread in a certain & defined way based off their characteristics. Some of the more common disease spread through making physical contact with the pathogen (for instance touching something contaminated), touching & inhaling pathogens in droplets, and by breathing in airborne pathogens. BUT, it is important to remember that we often forget that most of the pathogens that make us sick are autonomous & tangible things. They take up space & they move. It is very easy to not see something & not feel it & for it then to be on the bottom list of priorities. Two major examples of often unknown risk are in 2 common practices:

>New Toilets

- A lot of hospitals got rid of toilet lids. Flushing bodily fluids results in those infectious particles going into the air. Disease that weren’t originally airborne would then be airborne. These pathogens can possibly be breathed in. Even if toilets are moved to a different room to protect patients, staff will possibly breathe in these particles.

>Venipuncture?

- You DO NOT need to get a needle stick injury to get a blood borne illness from someone. Drawing blood (specifically winged butterfly sets)produces blood splatter at a significant rate. This means if you were following the disease precautions that we do for everything else, you should be required to wear protective equipment: goggles, disposable gown, & gloves when drawing blood. This is not a standard that is enforced in the culture & many forget or are not aware. (1)

3: Lack of infectious disease teams

- Staff should be dedicated to prevention, control, & monitoring for success in these topics in each hospital. For obvious safety reasons.

4: Disease Screening & Pathogen identification

- Often times screenings are skipped due to patient’s lack of access to healthcare, understaffing, & lack of resources. But there are MANY practices I will continue to advocate for to get funding & to be done around the globe. I’m going to reiterate strongly that not all systems are perfect, but currently the risk for the world is far too high. I’m in favor of universal screening for blood borne disease with at least all inpatient hospital stays and likewise universal testing for respiratory illness is a good approach during “winter seasons”.

- I also think identification of pathogens & their characteristics inside places where healthcare is done is necessary. Reevaluation of cleaning practices is necessary. The level of antibiotic resistance we now see with MRSA or antibiotic resistant staph could happen to ANY other pathogen & we are not taking enough steps to prevent it.

6: Where “Knowledge” Becomes Deadly

- Unfortunately a large proportion of our knowledge comes from observing problems and then frantically attempting to solve them in the middle of a crisis. We have studies on diseases and then we learn & teach everyone based off the most up to date scientific knowledge we have available at that time. I think our understanding of a lot of disease processes & body processes are very incomplete. I also think that people have been steered in a very dangerous direction over the course of history despite ample warning. The specific directions medicine went into for standards of care over history is deeply disturbing & highly suggestive that someone trying to hurt people was attempting to influence the medical sphere by any means necessary including force. Without a full understanding of all the different functions organs do, the standard in medicine many, many years ago became to just start removing things. This became the “gold standard” of care or best practice for a very common problem that can be treated in other & less invasive ways. But since funding, research, & general direction hasn’t been focused on getting more info on specific important topics- these are practices we still do to this day. To reiterate something I said long ago, when someone has a tummy ache, no one actually suggests to take out the stomach. Despite nonstop pushing for more federal regulation, there are still few regulations on supplements. This is dangerous and it’s hard to recommend these type of needed supplements when they are not standardized across the board in regards to their safety. All your organs do multiple things. If you take any out or damage them you will need some type of “replacement therapy” to feel normal again. The issue is that primarily books & research inform healthcare worker education. But if no one will fund the research or investigate specific topics, the interventions & meds that help never get taught. It’s not that the interventions don’t work, it’s just that someone established the norm to be the most painful/hardest on your body type treatment. I reiterate, that seems HIGHLY suspect for something being wrong in multiple domains to get us to this point.

There are forces trying to take us down a dark path & I continually hope it isn’t too late to prevent harm in all domains of our lives. I debate with myself about including links with each post due to how cluttered it gets. But I think it’s incredibly uncomfortable topics like drawing people’s blood has a somewhat unknown & higher risk for pathogen exposure than people say that’s been demonstrated in research & people don’t make a bigger deal about it. It’s hard information to find on google & many hospital cultures do not emphasize its dangers in the same way even that we do towards MRSA. It’s incredibly uncomfortable reality to find ourselves in, but something’s got to change.

(1) https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0196655308005427

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deusvervewrites · 1 year ago

Note

Ask Game: Here goes nothing- AU where Midoriya has All For One via your original plan for Haigha

I'm not sure I ever revealed this, but Midoriya was always supposed to have rabbit features. In the original concept that's why it took him so long to realize he had All For One. And so, in the spirit of that and that one recent Cat!Midoriya illustration I keep seeing getting fanart, he's going to be a kitty.

All For One wants to make sure that his Quirk Duplication technology is working before they dunk Shigaraki in the soup and that means they need a trial run. Well that Quirkless child looks unsupervised. Yoink.

They successfully copy All For One into Midoriya, and unlike Nine, he can actually hold as many Quirks as AFO can. A perfect success! They can proceed with the plan! All they have to do is get rid of this kid, and how hard can that be?

Okay, so, bad news, the kid panicked when they went to dispose of him and stole a fuckton of All For One's Quirks in the process. They eventually managed to knock him out and throw him through a Kurogiri portal to fucking somewhere idk but uh... All For One's not feeling to well. Or much of anything, really.

Midoriya wakes up in an alleyway wearing a medical gown. He has no idea how he got there or why he's wearing it. Or why he has fur. And paws. And cat ears. He does know why he's having a panic attack though.

The noise attracts attention from a passerby who helps calm him down and contacts the police. Midoriya is informed that he has been missing for five months, as having been sedated in the soup the whole time he was with AFO, he didn't actually know how long it had been. Tearful reunion with Inko ensues.

#asks #ask game #ask game series 14 #cheshire au

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graylinesspam · 1 year ago

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Come to find out, artillery rounds do considerable damage to your body when you're hit by them directly.

Ahsoka yelps as the swirling spinning surgical pod whirls around her again, the high pitched sound searing through her montrals. But even that pain is secondary to the way her back it opened up, the muscles being carefully tended to. charred flesh sliced away and raw muscles stitched backtogether.

There are no less than three medics hovering outside of the pod. each scurrying around completing an endless series of tasks to support her recovery.

When she walked back onto the Resolute after Steela's funeral she'd just been grateful that she'd started wearing backless dresses, which had prevented fabric from melting into her burns.

But for artillery rounds, it turned out that the healing process was worse than the wounds themselves.

Being sliced apart and stitched back together was a lengthy process. She'd been stuck in the medbay, face down, for well over two weeks. The skin of her back was kept alive by bacta treatments and steroids but ultimately kept detached from her flesh as the medics needed continued access to the muscle beneath.

She was also on a constant flow of painkillers to make her condition tolerable. It did nothing for the pain of the operations but it made her idle hours easier to bear.

she also wasn't allowed to dress in any reasonable clothing. only her leggings and disposable paper gowns that tied around the neck and waist. they were dry and itchy and they crinkled whenever see moved. she'd grown to hate that sound.

Maybe she was being bitter and unreasonable. but she'd also lost all the strength in her arms when they started taking apart her back muscles. turns out the shoulders are very necessary for arm strength. and Ahsoka was staring down a very long recovery period.

when the whirring came to an end and the cot retracted from the surgical pod Cadaver was already there looking over the open flesh of her back, noting what flesh was growing back. When he had taken his notes Kix stepped in to reapply her creams and bandage over the wound.

Thankfully they still allowed her to walk herself around even if she needed some support on the very bottom of her back in order to get to a standing position.

Rex was waiting with her lunch and she was allowed to have it on the bench just outside the medbay. The hanger loud around them. He frequently came to chat with her. other men from torrent came and went as well but Cadaver never let them into the bay. convinced they'd get her into some kind of trouble.

Maybe it wasn't just her back that was numbed out all the time. Because this was the first long stint in the medbay where Ahsoka wasn't itching to leave. She wasn't happy to be there either. It wasn't accurate to say that she was content either.

Steela's death had done something to her. Obi-wan assured her that some time would ease the strain of that expirience. Maybe it would. it seemed that for the moment at least time and pain where all she could feel.

---

Meanwhile, news of Ahsoka's injury had made it far outside of Torrent company. Taking an artillery round to the back was no easy feat even for a jedi. To not just survive it but to be up and walking immediately after. That was the kind of unbelievable war story that spread like fire.

The pilots of the 501st had already painted a mural of her across the side of a fighter. with her Sabers held in a defensive hold and the bright blast of an explosion behind her.

Ahsoka was already known for her preference of the sword and saber maneuver. She preferred to fight in tandem with her troops and as their guard rather than Skywalker's Style of sprinting right into the heat and taking the enemy's attention entirely.

But this level of durability? Her ability to take a hit and keep going was quickly becoming gossip amongst the GAR. The mythical glee that had surrounded their idea of the jedi as cadets rarely surfaces now that they work with them but this story was bringing it back.

Some Jedi were just jedi and some of them were built from stronger stock. Skywalker surely was, and by all acounts, Tano was as well.

And she was becoming a legend for it.

#this is just one instance of many that has cemented the idea that Ahsoka was changed intrinsically by mortis for me #because she really did take a tank round to that back and get back up #and we don't even really adress it #like she is wearing a bandage at steela's funeral but that's it???#just baby jedi has a booboo??#she was shot by a god damn tank #and they portray that so casually that we don't even question it.#what the actual fuck #so yeah #i'm thinking the clones might have some feelings about that #Ahsoka tano #star wars #ashoka tano #clone wars #tcw #sw tcw #short fic #please someone talk about this

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8health · 2 years ago

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medilivescaremanufacturing · 2 years ago

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wolveria · 1 year ago

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The Raven’s Hymn - Ch 31

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “What are you doing here?”

AO3

Two guards in hazmat suits led you out, and you were as cooperative as you could be, wanting to be rid of that room as soon as possible. A sense of uncleanliness pervaded you within and without, and you were grateful for the decontamination shower, even if it left your skin raw and stinging.

You scrubbed and scrubbed, trying to wipe away the filth that only existed in your mind, knowing the tainted feeling would linger far longer than any contaminants did. You might have been wearing the mask, but 035 had wormed his way into your thoughts, nudging your body and voice before you’d realized what was happening. 035 hadn’t controlled you in any significant way, it had felt more like he had taken your anger at Leahy, fed his own hatred into it, and caused a sort of merging that had been a blend of you both.

You shuddered and scrubbed harder, turning your mind to other parts of the so-called interview. It didn’t make any sense what 035 had said about 682. As far as you knew, 682 had been neutralized during Site-19’s containment breach, and Leahy had nothing to do with the SCP or its disposal.

Of course, the truth may have been above your previous clearance level. Hadn’t the Foundation already proven to be withholding more information than it shared? You still didn’t know why you’d been trapped within 049’s cell, let alone what the Foundation had actually done with an SCP they’d been trying to destroy for years.

As the cold, chemical spray drenched your hair and skin, you were unpleasantly reminded of 035’s desire for a containment breach. There was no denying you would love to be out of Foundation hands; taking 049 with you had crossed your mind more than once, but it was little more than a daydream. A way to pass the time and wish for things that would never be. Despite your effect on SCPs, you were still human, with no abilities or weapons that made you dangerous or capable of escape.

Once the spray stopped, you were air dried with a machine that made you feel as if you were going through a person-version of a car wash, and after that, you were led to what you assumed was your next test. Except the next room resembled staff accommodations more than a testing chamber.

You were left alone with instructions to rest, and a clean, white nightgown was left folded for you on the full-sized bed. It was impossible for it to be night already, yet your body ached with a fatigue that meant you’d been awake too long. Just how much time had passed in 035’s chamber?

Replacing the paper-thin hospital gown they’d given you after decontamination, you donned the more comfortable nightgown. Even after crawling into the bed and your weary body thanked every soft layer of material, you laid awake. It felt too… kind. Too nice for the treatment you’ve received so far. You didn’t trust it for a second.

But despite your paranoia, you couldn’t fight the exhaustion that weighed you down. You drifted off, curled under two comforters, and remained that way until the entrance door slid open.

You shot upward, clutching the blanket to your chest in a half-awake, childish attempt to protect yourself.

Two guards led a figure inside; tall, masked, and intimately familiar. You didn’t speak as the guards unlocked 049’s chains and collar before vacating and shutting the door behind them, leaving the two of you alone in the fully lit room. It had been dim when you’d drifted off and must have come back on when the door opened.

“049?” You pulled back the covers and rose from the bed. “What are you doing here?”

The SCP flicked his gaze around the room before settling on you, his head at a tilt.

“I am unsure.”

He took a step closer, his gaze troubled, frowning in his own way.

“Do you require medical assistance? Have they caused you harm?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Nothing on the surface, anyway. 049 was already approaching you, reaching out, but then he paused.

“May I perform a cursory examination?”

You blinked, your throat working.

“Uh… yeah. Yes.”

049 gently took your face into his hands in a way that did not feel like a cursory examination.

“Your skin is damaged. Raw from a mild burn.”

“Oh, yeah. The decontamination shows.”

049 narrowed his eyes.

“Barbarians.”

The word was harsh, but he said it quietly, holding you like a precious thing. Warmth spread down your face and neck, spreading at an alarming rate, but you weren’t concerned. It had been a long time since you’d really feared 049.

“I am… dissatisfied with our last conversation,” he said, rubbing one thumb across your cheek. “I wish to apologize.”

“It’s okay.” You smiled, the gesture so easy when it was him. “I’m sorry too.”

He returned the smile, his eyes warm.

“All is forgiven. Now, you should try to get some sleep.”

He was standing close. Too close. But he didn’t pull away, and neither did you.

“I’m not tired,” you mumbled and leaned in, caught up in the wave of warmth spreading throughout your body. You chased it, craved more of it. More of him.

“You need to rest.” His insistence was undermined by the hand still resting on your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. His other hand was a comfortable weight on your waist. You couldn’t recall when he put it there.

“No,” you breathed. “That’s not what I need.”

You leaned forward, pressing your entire body to him. Your face nudged against the crook of his neck beneath his hood, and it was titillating being so close, exploring a place you hadn’t before. His natural scent was stronger here, and you pressed in further, the cloth around his throat blocking you from skin contact, but that didn’t dissuade you from pressing your lips to where his pulse point would be.

049 shuddered and gave a choked off noise, and then his arms were around your waist, lifting you up and moving you backward towards the bed. You held on tight, more in desperation to be close rather than any fear he would drop you, and you didn’t let go even when he deposited you on the bed.

He carefully relinquished himself of your hold, but 049 didn’t go far. Whatever it was, this unquestionable need that had you in its grip, he also heeded its call, his heavy gaze never leaving yours as he bunched up your nightgown and stripped off your underwear.

Neither of you spoke as 049 leaned over you, the movements wanted and familiar, as if you’d done this before. He pressed his weight down on you, and you finally released a noise as something hard and heavy pressed against your thigh.

049 nudged himself between your legs with gentle insistence. You didn’t need any preparation, you welcomed him greedily, impatient as you slid your hands up his back and wrapped a leg around his hip.

He let out a low laugh, as if finding your lack of patience amusing, but then his expression darkened as he prodded at your entrance. Your nails dug into the thick cloth of his back, every inch of your skin tingled with anticipation.

Clenching your jaw, you sensed in the back of your mind you didn’t have much time left.

049 didn’t make you wait any longer. He plunged forward, fully embedding himself with you.

Lightning crackled up your body, electricity racing down your limbs and firing up every synapse in your brain, and you opened your eyes wide. The sensation, almost like an orgasm but not quite the same, faded away, leaving you unsatisfied. Alone, in an empty bed, with no 049.

You slowly sat upright, your body heavy with sleep, and you looked down to see you were still in your nightgown, tucked under the covers, and drenched in cold sweat. You didn’t even have to check to know your underwear was soaked with slick.

Covering your face with your hands, you groaned aloud.

The dim lights between your fingers bloomed into life, and you jerked up your head as two armed guards and a scientist entered the room.

“Get up,” one of the guards said, the manacles already waiting in his counterpart’s hands. “Stand here.”

You followed instructions, figuring they were simply leading you to the next test, but then the scientist pulled out a pair of black, thick rubber gloves from his lab coat pocket. He put them on and then flipped over your pillow, exposing what was beneath.

It was an old coin, specifically Irish gun money. A half-crown with James II on one side, there would be a sigil of the crown on the other, as well as the year 1690 stamped at its top.

The guard who wasn’t holding you moved forward, carrying a wooden coin box, and he opened it for the scientist to carefully deposit the coin inside.

Your lack of sleep and pent-up frustration from the interrupted dream had you pulling at the guard, your restraints clicking at the movement.

“You used SCP-5964 on me? Are you trying to kill me?”

But the scientist only said, “Please, come this way,” as if you were given a choice, and you were pulled from the bedroom—which had just been another testing chamber, after all.

Next Chapter

#the raven's hymn #scp 049 x reader #scp 049 #scp 049 fanfiction #scp containment breach fanfiction #wolveria writes

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