Gill's Surgery: Part 2 (Day 4, Late Afternoon)

OOC: Joint Post from Wandering Wolf and Sail

With each pass of the gun, the mesh softened and adhered to the underlying tissue. Both teams watched as the sheet took a topographical appearance , it’s crosshatching rising and falling to reflect the surviving muscle.

“Good!” Palmen declared. “Who is doing the painting?”

“Yeva will apply, but Ah was thinkin’ Sistah Lyen might paint.”

“Great,” Lao chuckled. “She’s got quite the following here at VMC. We’ll be publishing this capture, too.!”

Dorian cast a mischievous glance toward Lyen. “Y’all makin’ this difficult...Ah didn’t include ‘celebrity’ as one of her job requirements.” He turned his eyes toward Yeva. “Those two squeeze tubes...labelled Rheumone...kindly empty ‘em both into tha site.”

With a nod of understanding, the widow squeezed both, releasing two thick streams of a clear gel onto the newly applied mesh. She worked to distribute the viscous application as evenly as possible, until each tube sputtered and went dry.

“Sister Lyen,” Dr. Palmen spoke next, “you should have a small brush? Like a paint brush? Please brush the gel across the entire surface. We’re looking for a smooth, even coverage of the mesh.”

Ly couldn’t decide if she was flattered or terrified that this live feed was going in the first place. To think that the entire thing was being recorded was a fear completely different. The first time around she’d known Dorian’s surgery was being recorded, but they didn’t have an audience. It was just the three of them, trapped in the black, rising to the occasion. Her temples tingled as a pink hue broke across the skin. Thankfully her cheeks were covered by the surgical mask. Ly made a slight bow to the capture instead of exhaling because she was sure it would have been a chortle or some awkward unbecoming sound.

Instead, her hands moved to the instrument Dr. Palmen indicated. Ly had painted before, but painting inside a wound was worlds apart from painting houses. The brush splayed as she exerted light pressure over the gel in short strokes. Soon, the two medicines mingled together into a single shining layer along the mesh.

“Rheumone,” Dr. Palmen explained, “is a sort of wonder drug, a combination growth hormone and a myostatin blocker. Myostatin regulates muscle growth in the body. It this case, we’re removing its’ control over this muscle, to permit accelerated regrowth of the damaged tissue. You’ll be reapplying this each day for the next seven days. The results are very exciting,” he said. “This young man should able to walk and begin exercise within three weeks post op. That’s good Sister. Very good work, team! You may dress the site now...don’t forget my dermal measurements!”

“ Two questions?” Dorian asked as Yeva began to apply a protective dressing. “”When should we attach tha dermal graft yah sendin’?”

“Forty-eight hours after the final Rheumone application.”

“Perfect,” the medic nodded. “Any side effects tah applyin’ a myostatin blockah?”

“There is a possibility of migration,” Palmen responded. “Potential muscle growth in other locations of the body. Given the hormonal processes of puberty, your patient may see minor muscular enhancement…”

“Six-pack abs,” Dorian asserted.

“Exactly!” Palmen laughed. “Or other enhancements...biceps, pectorals, difficult to say. Please keep us updated on his progress. You may dress the site now.”

“Sistah? Yeva?” Dorian smiled. “Care tah do tha honahs?”

Instruments placed down on the metallic trays, Yeva and Lyen worked in tandem to gently place the gauze and bandage around the incision site. The drape was finally off their subject, off of Gill, and the reality of what they had just done wormed its way back to reality. She’d been a part of cutting and cleaning and patching and dressing the teen, and the doctors a trillion miles away deemed it a success. Gill would run like any other child in three weeks time. Of that she was thankful. Lyen blinked as she started to feel the fatigue in her knees from standing for the duration of the short surgery.

As the pair set to work, Dorian turned toward the observation window. With a smile that caused his mask to ride up, he delivered a “thumbs-up: signal to Haddie and Serena. “Doctah Lao,” he said to the hospital team, “thank yah, This was invaluable.”

“We agree,” she replied. “You can wake the patient as soon as you’ve finished. Goodbye, Lunar Veil team!”

Once he’d seen the boy’s dressing was complete, Dorian lowered his mask. “Y’all did great,” he grinned. “Tha comin’ week will need tah see us on eight hour rotations. Gill’s gonna rest in mah quartahs,” he cast a glance toward their patient, “Marisol was kind enough tah set up a traction rig fah us tah keep his leg elevated...and yah know what that means,” Dorian quipped as he hoisted a gleaming bedpan before his two assistants. “We suffah and suffah alike.”

As the team cleaned up the infirmary around the sleeping Gill, Dorian keyed the intercom mic. “This is tha medic speakin’. Our patient is outta surgery. Sistah Lyen and Yevah Schnabel performed about as pretty an operation as Ah’ve evah seen. We expect Mistah Gill tah have a complete recovery.”

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