Phoenix

[Doc Holliday]

Surgery Room, Canaria Medical

Three hours into surgery, Doc found himself just about re-educating himself on anatomy. He had already pulled the broken ribs from the man's lung and fused the ribs with a laser stitcher and set the remaining ribs as well. He had also removed what was left of his spleen. He looked up at the vital's monitor. All was good.

"Nurse, what's the status of our blood supply?" he asked.
"We will be fine, Doctor," she answered, "we have more than we need."
"Excellent!" replied Doc. He then began examining the man's liver and raised his eyebrows a bit.
"Heavy drinker it seems," he commented as he examined before turning to another doctor on his team, "do we have a liver for someone AB negative?"
"I'll go look," he answered and casually left the room. Playing the assuming there isn't one available mentality, he stitched a puncture on the liver. Shortly after he finished, the doctor returned and announced they did have one. He would return yet a short time later with it.

"Scalpel," he asked of his nurse to which she handed him one.
"Clamps," he asked. He quickly was handed those.
"OK, when I cut, apply the suction," he instructed. Doc cut and right on cue, the assistant dealt with the blood and Doc clamped off the organ. After some more well placed cuts, the liver was removed. Taking the new one from ice, he began the process of putting it in place.
"Stitcher," he asked as he held his hand out. His demand was met. As carefully as he cut out the old one, he sutured the new one into place. Once satisfied, he removed the clamps. He then put some anti-rejection drugs into the IV flowing into the man's body.
"Well done, team," he stated, "let us continue."

They would work for another three hours, fixing a man who by all rights should be dead. Once his internals were fixed, he was closed up. The laser stitcher as usual, left no sign that anything had ever happened.
He then briefly looked at the arm of the man. He was curious to the nature of it. He was sure that his robotics team would want to see it.

Another team worked on the twisted leg. They found the femur dislocated at the hip and the knee totally wrecked. Something had hit him hard forcing a sharp turn in direction he didn't want. For now, they fixed the dislocated joint but knew the knee was a whole nother day's work and most likely in need of replacement. Having been in surgery and fatigued, satisfied that the man would survive, the team broke for the day. Instructions were left to keep him under heavy anesthesia for the next 48 hours. As Doc and his assistant cleaned up, they spoke.

"What's your plan, Doc?" he asked.
"I'll need to call Order command but I'll do so after I can get a better report on him. Before that, I'll probably head home for some food and a rest," he answered.
"Ah. Good plan. How is that wife of yours anyway?" he asked.
"Jeff, she's pregnant with twins....but keep it quiet," he explained, "we don't want the bother."
"Congrats," answered the assistant, "and I'll keep your wishes."

With that, Doc headed home while DeSouza recovered from his first round of surgery.

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