Obsessing Over Too Many Fandoms

ALSO: I just showed this post to my roommate, who is an MD at a clinic that specializes in care for the LGBT community in the Baltimore area. I asked her  whether hormones were responsible for the difference in the “male/female” symptom arrays. I asked how that would apply to her trans patients (which, she treats a LOT of trans patients). She said, basically, that the longer you’ve taken testosterone the more likely you are to get the intense chest pressure and the arm pain, versus the upper back pressure and shortness of breath.

“I always remember having this fight with a random dude who claimed that ‘straight white men’ were the only true innovators. His prime example for this was the computer… the computer… THE COMPUTER!!! THE COM-PU-TER!!!

Alan Turing - Gay man and ‘father of computing’ Wren operating Bombe - The code cracking computers of the 2nd world war were entirely run by women Katherine Johnson - African American NASA mathematician and ‘Human computer’ Ada Lovelace - arguably the 1st computer programmer”

- Sacha Coward

Also Margaret Hamilton - NASA computer scientist who put the first man on the moon - an as-yet-unmatched feet of software engineering, here pictured beside the full source of that computer programme. #myhero

Grace Hopper - the woman that coined the term “bug”  

also computing was typically a job for women (many of whom were black women that made incredible contributions) back in the day, so it’s absolutely fucking wild that straight white men think they are the foundation of computer innovation. men PUSHED women out and took the credit.

what the failed education

system never did.

She invents protograph that allows to copy documents without carbon paper back in the days and it is the precursor to modern day multifunction printer; vacuum ice cream freezee; and bendable arms on dolls, to name a very few. She invents so many that she earned the title of Lady Edison.

Today is Tuesday and also July

But sometimes never

Whumptober prompt no.30-2020

Chapter 2

Summary:

Avery is not having a great start to the day. She's tired, grumpy and the main annoyance to her day- the excruciating pain in her side... She just wants to make it through the day without either Max or Tristan knowing. Can she make it to bedtime with them unaware, or will hiding this pain lead to her fighting for her life and giving Max another grey hair?

(note: this is roughly based on episode 1x4- wellness week but the plot is altered for this story. Medical inaccuracies but it’s Doctor Odyssey where reality is thrown out the window. Also please ignore formatting whilst I get used to posting on tumble )

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 11 pm. He'd normally stay up for another couple of hours in his office, usually catching up on new research studies, but he wanted no more wellness debates from cruisers debating the efficiency of ‘big pharma’, and his room was a safe zone. 

They could only extract him from it if there was an emergency. First aiders were on hand overnight for minor bumps and scrapes that could wait to be seen till morning. 

He had planned to have a long, slow, relaxing bath, trying his new soap from their latest port stop, but his mind couldn't settle. Something was telling him that something wasn't right with Avery. The niggle had been growing throughout the day, not quite believing each reason that Avery gave, defending that she was fine and dandy, and it was just her period. 

The relaxing bath would have to wait, he needed to see Avery. Even if it meant just giving her things back and topping up her painkillers. He couldn't sleep knowing that he hadn't done anything. 

The way she had stormed off and had remained in radio silence since the Captain's dinner wasn't like her. Sure, Avery had a short temper some days, but she would often just retaliate with sarcasm, and the trio would carry on as normal. 

Yet tonight, the squabble about the food was not met with the usual sarcasm. The normal Spitfire of a nurse was deflated and didn't seem to have her usual energy to fight back. She had just left without a word of goodbye, mindlessly leaving the ballroom, not even realising she had left her jacket and bag. Which he had brought with him as an excuse to check in on her. 

Knock. Knock. 

‘Avery?’

….

‘Avery? I have your jacket and bag, you left them earlier’

…

‘Avery, are you ok? Can I come in?’

No response to any of his previous questions led him to immediately walk into the silent room. The lights were on, the bed unmade with her heels from the night at the bottom. But no Avery to be seen. 

Even though they'd slept together, he still felt like he was intruding, but he was no longer a concerned friend, instead turning into a doctor getting incredibly worried about his potential patient. The emptiness of the room led him to follow the hum of the bathroom light, working on overtime, and the sight that greets him threatens to force bile up his throat. 

Avery was lying on the floor of the bathroom on her side, with her head between the toilet and sink, with an alarming red smudge on the sink and a trickle flowing from the side of her head.

The slight pallor he had seen earlier was nothing to now; her skin was almost resembling glass, and even from afar, her breathing was dangerously slow.

Grabbing towels as he raced to her side, he immediately placed pressure on her head, trying to stem the flow of blood and checked her pulse with his other hand. A very weak but steady strum did not ease any of his increasing worry. 

It wasn't a check-up anymore.

Shit

He hadn't brought anything with him bar Avery’s things. The medical watch could only alert them to emergencies if they didn't have their phones on them, and his was still on his bedside table awaiting his return after the supposed quick trip. 

Avery's phone had to be somewhere in her room, but he needed to wait until the bleeding slowed before he could leave Avery alone to get help. Why didn't he call for help the second he saw her? It's one of the first things any medical person is trained to do. 

Changing to a fresh towel, mentally apologising to Corey, he ran through a quick differential diagnosis. Aside from the obvious head wound, she was running a high fever; the vomit still in the toilet confirmed her earlier comment of feeling nauseous at lunch. 

A gentle feel of her abdomen raised the possible diagnosis of appendicitis due to the subtle pained body language gave in reaction, with all her other symptoms matching. 

Shit 

He never swore this much day to day or when dealing with cases. But if he was right and this was appendicitis, this could have started last night when Avery had stayed up all night, and her discomfort throughout the day meant the infection could have been brewing for at least 24 hours. 

Avery hadn't roused since he'd gotten there, testing his ability to keep his doctor hat on and ignoring the fear telling him to scoop her up and run as fast as he could to the infirmary. 

The head wound bleeding had slowed; it was only a small cut, but most wounds in the head area always bled a lot, and could be dealt with later in the infirmary.

 He scrambled around her room desperately loading for either her radio or phone. Not thinking clearly, he checked any spot that may have held either device. He didn't even think to check her bag first. 

‘Aves, it's late, are you ok? Was your phone not in your bag? I thought Max had your b-..’

Max had to stop him, using the tone he used when they worked in emergencies,

‘Tristan, it's me. Avery is critically unwell. I think she might have appendicitis that may be close to rupturing. I need you to grab the medical bag and a stretcher asap. She's unconscious in her bathroom, so it'll take both of us to get her out’

He could hear Tristan already running through the halls, no doubt his own medical brain switched on, ‘ on it, Doc.’

There was nothing he could do until Tristan arrived. 

The Captain's voice could suddenly be heard from over the corridor tannoy, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, sorry to wake you, but I've been made aware that the storm we encountered earlier has grown into a hurricane and has come back into our path. We are currently entering the eye of the storm and will be experiencing another period of stillness before we exit the storm. I need you all to remain in your rooms and to lock any of your loose belongings until further notice’

He needed to alert the Captain about Avery, he knew of their close bond and how the older man would be cross if he didnt know what was going on till later. Using Avery's phone was going to be quicker than finding her radio, ‘Infirmary to bridge. Captain, are you there ?’

‘I've got you, Max, everything ok down there?’

‘Honestly, I need a miracle. It's Avery?’

‘What's happened?  Is she ok? She seemed off today”

‘I've just checked up on her since she left the dinner early. She's unconscious in her bathroom, I'm awaiting Tristan to help transport her. I suspect she has severe appendicitis that has been festering for over 24 hours. We may be taking her into surgery asap, what will the waters be like as if her appendix has ruptured, it's going to be a tricky surgery.’

‘I don't think we’ll get a lot of calm. My best guess is that we’ll have about 20 minutes before we exit the eye. Let me know what your next move is and if surgery is needed. She's in the best hands’

‘Thanks, Cap, understood, ’ a thundering noise along the corridor signalled Tristan's arrival. He was thankful it was a fancy ship, as the corridors were wide enough, even in the staff corridors, to help swing the stretcher straight into the room. 

Tritan looked towards Max for the next steps. He knew what should be done, but after seeing the love of their lives on the floor almost dead, you could forgive him for overthinking any of the simple steps in fear of endangering her further. 

‘It's safe to say she didn't fall from standing, so I'm confident that she hasn't got any spinal or neck injuries. I don't want to waste time loading her onto a spinal board. But as a precaution, I want  you to keep her head stable as I scoop her up’

Neither of the men talked as they ran through the halls with Avery upon the stretcher (screw disturbing the guests). The silence was only broken by Max beginning to list the treatments and tests needed as they got closer to the infirmary.

They had to peel the amazing gold dress off her, which had both men nearly needing a cold shower at the dinner earlier. The thin material was coaxed in a thick layer of sweat, making the task of trying not to resort to cutting it off her difficult for both men, knowing they would be murdered if she found out it had been destroyed.

Somehow, she still looked like the supermodel of the ship once she was sporting the medical gown. The thought was one Tristan was using to stop his hands from shaking as he began to administer an IV as Max was gathering the needed drugs to begin the anaesthesia once in the OR. 

Beginning to scrub in, Max rang the Captain, trying to ignore the increasing sway of the ship, signalling the impending hurricane. It would be Avery to need emergency surgery amid a tropical hurricane. 

‘Infirmary to bridge. Captain…’, a table could be heard rolling across the treatment room, sending tools everywhere, and he could argue there was a tiny ‘buggar’ following the crash, ‘Are you there?’

‘Got you, Max. We have approximately five minutes before we enter the hurricane. What is the update on Avery?’

‘Not gonna lie to you, it's bad. I have to do surgery, I think her appendix has ruptured. Ideally, I would love calm seas, but I'm gonna guess that's wishful thinking’

He couldn't stand waiting for a response; the longer the delay, the higher the risk to Avery, letting Tristan in at the sink whilst he headed for the OR, beginning the anasthesia process. ‘I'm afraid not, Max. What I am gonna do is break a few nautical laws, but it's for one of our own…..’

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It was no doubt the craziest surgery that either of them had performed. The Captain had managed to get them increments of calm, but his trick had led them scrambling multiple times to stop the equipment and Avery from rolling away.

Intubating Avery had been the easiest part of the whole thing. Once Max had opened her up, he and Tristan had realised the scale of what they were about to undertake. 

The contents of the infected appendix had coated her abdominal cavity. Cleaning it all out took both of them working in tandem, with the rough waves leading Max at one point to do a handstand halfway up the wall and Tristan rushing to stop the Doc's scalpel from puncturing Avery's intestines. 

The boy's trust was tested further when Avery began crashing, her BP dropping as a bleed from the burst appendix, which had been knocked from Max’s earlier gymnastics. Max worked blindly to stop the bleeding, accepting tools that were slid to him as Tristan rushed to begin a new bag of fluids and blood. Both only momentarily pausing to place the defib pads on her upper and side of her chest, ready if she threatened to leave them again. 

Removing the actual appendix should have been a breeze, with bleeding and leaking pus minimal, compared to the cleaning, but the stress Avery's body had been through the last 24 hrs took its toll with her vitals crashing again, with this time her heart stopping. 

Both men thanked the stars for the preplaced defib, allowing the machine to do its job to restore her heart from pvt*. Avery wasn't going down with a fight, only needing one shock before the reassuring beep of the cardiac monitor began its safe pattern. 

Nor Max or Tristan hid the tears that threatened to escape as they could safely begin to close their girl up, knowing that this night would haunt them for nights to come, the steady beep of the monitors keeping both safe in the knowledge that they had made it to the other side and Avery would be awake soon.

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They just needed her to wake up now. There was nothing else they could do. Tristan had taken over finishing her post op care, being the only nurse of the team, the small jobs were normally left to him after surgery. 

He slipped away from the recovery room, heading for the safety of his office. It was quiet, clean and pristine, something that had always provided the sanctuary he needed since beginning his medical career. Past ‘friends’ had mocked his need for quiet and cleanliness, saying he had no personality or life outside of work, and he must be a bore to live with. 

The irony of it. Here he was sitting on a couch that he and his nurse practitioner had a quickie on last week, only moments after a heartfelt conversation about the losses they had suffered that week. He doubted that it was dull. 

Though thinking about those few moments he had spent between her legs was a nice moment, it was fleeting, as the horrors of digging through her abdomen looking for any remaining infection were all he could think about. 

His mind was threatening to pull him in deeper, his surroundings fading away as his senses started disappearing. He was about to give in to the demons until a warmth surrounded him, attaching him to it. 

The weight of warmth wrapped around his chest and engulfed his face. The scent of a warm, earthy aftershave and the contrasting tropical scent of sunscreen attacked his nose. A light whisper of raspy Spanish travelled through his ears, battling the demons in his mind. 

‘Te tengo, está bien, regresa conmigo. Ella está a salvo. Te amo, necesito recuperar a mi Max’*

The words somehow worked in slowing his racing heart, bringing him back to his office and away from his mind. The hands holding his face brushed their thumbs along his cheekbones, his brow and jawline, eventually landing on either side of his lips. Brown eyes met his own, 

‘That's it, mi amor. Thought I almost lost you, too. The world would go awry if I were the only sane one left. Tough, that's debatable’.

There was no judgment or shame in the Brit's eyes, only patience as he waited for a response, ‘lo siento, I've never had to …’*

‘To operate on one of your own? Max, it’s normal not to feel ok after operating on one of your lovers. Even the most socially detached doctor in the world would still struggle. All we can focus on is getting Avery back to full health whilst not neglecting our health in the process. She'll be awake very soon, and I think we should move over there, sit by her side, play some of her musical playlist for her to wake up to and deal with the next steps together’ 

God, could he fall in love with his boy any more than he was? 

‘I’d like that’.  ----------------------------------------------------------------------

The album of Camelot was playing in the background of the recovery room. Avery had forced the two of them to watch a recent Broadway recording of it on a streaming service one date night, impressing both men as she sang along quietly under her breath. 

They had debated the next morning, when she wasn't around, on how much Avery looked and sounded like the actress playing Guinevere and how much she would hate them if they volunteered her to sing on a Captain's dinner night. 

Neither Max nor Tristan felt like it, but both of them quickly devoured chips and water that Max kept as an emergency stash in his office since neither of them had stopped for 24 hrs and wanted to be strong enough to look after their girl. 

It wasn’t a surprise that Avery was taking her time to awaken. Surgery ended up taking a couple of hours instead of the usual one for an appendectomy, and her body had taken a beating during the surgery. 

During a particular upbeat tune playing out of the speakers, it was the only thing keeping the boys awake, the cardiac monitor began to increase in its rhythm, leading Max and Tristan to perk up with knowledge that Avery was to awake any minute. 

They each wheeled their stools as close as they could get to her, knowing how awful it was to come out of anaesthesia and how hard it was to fight the drugs still present in your system. Tristan spoke, knowing Max would want to ask her medical questions, ‘Hey Aves, you back with us?’

A very quiet groan was given, yet she remained asleep, the stronghold of the anaesthesia not making it easy for the NP to awake. He couldn't tell if her frown was confusion of how out of it you are when you first wake up or pain; he hoped it wasn't the latter, but it wasn't surprising considering they'd been digging around in her stomach . 

‘Aves, baby, you can do it. Can you open those lovely eyes for us?’

Her brown eyes finally met his own, glazed and unfocused, but they were open as she attempted to smile at both of them. Both men didn't hide their sighs of relief, their emotions had been all over the place since they had found her on the floor the previous night. 

A raspy whisper came from her, ‘What happened? Where am I? Did I have surgery ?’

Max had to stop himself from rolling his eyes as he answered, watching out of the corner of his eye as Tristan did. 

‘Yes, my wonderful Avery. The day's worth of excuses that you thought you were just getting your period turned out to be a ruptured appendix. The appendicitis looked like it had brewed for some time, and I think you had your suspicions and didn't want to admit you were ill. Tristan tells me you make a terrible patient.

The aforementioned nurse had brought over a cup of water and was guiding the straw into her mouth, as she avoided Max's gaze, her face answering for him instead. He could sense Tristan letting him know he'd not phrased the question correctly. 

Once she had finished drinking, he got her attention, he sent a hopefully reassuring smile that he was aware of his wrongdoing, ‘ I'm sorry that was harsh. You just got us very worried; that was the scariest surgery I've ever done. We nearly lost you, Avery. I don't think we'd cope if we had. Why didn't you just tell us during morning greetings how much pain you were in ?’

Tristan spoke before Avery could respond, knowing what she was thinking,‘ I know in the past you've not wanted to seem weak or not capable of your job as the only woman on the team. Alongside that, your family never looked after you when you were sick, but you don't need to put up the wall of independence now. Let us look after you. I don't want to ever have to bring a gurney to your room again. ‘

He could see Max filing his questions about Avery's home life for later, his medical hat coming on, ‘Avery, taking in what Tristan has just said, how's your pain?’

There was a flicker on Avery's face of her old facade threatening to rise before she seemed to loosen up, ‘I feel like you stabbed me through my stomach with a spear, hit my head with a hammer and dropped an anvil on my chest. I'm tempted to say I don't want anything, but I'd really like some of that gooooood’

Max had taken her momentary distraction to administer her next dose of morphine before she could put on her brave act, and she needed the rest, too. 

The drugs affect was almost instant  ‘....goood good stuff, Dr Max Bankman’. The smile reaching past her eyes, the lucidity of the woman before them decreasing. ‘I can see why that wellness lady was all over you…. I'd be too if I could get up. 

Tristan snickered as Avery attempted to look the Doc up and down seductively, attempting to focus on his groin, seemingly forgetting she was in a relationship with the two of them. Though the drug's stronghold was getting stronger, leading her to focus on her own feet instead of the intended anatomy. 

‘How about we discuss that when you’re rested. Get some sleep, babes, we’re docking and shall be back when done and can try to cuddle on this b….’. Avery had fallen asleep before he could finish, having grabbed both men's hands during her lower lucidity and wasn't letting go.

 The Captain would understand if they were a few minutes late. Everyone loved Avery.

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Notes/ Translation

*pulseless ventricular tachycardia

*‘I've got you, it's ok, come back to me. She's safe. I love you, I need my Max back.

*Im sorry