Allison Cameron (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
as_damaged) wrote2009-08-19 08:05 pm
as_damaged) wrote2009-08-19 08:05 pm
Entry tags:
☤ nineteen
[Accidental Video;]
[The view is wavering and poorly focused, the camera on her PDA just barely poking out from a pocket as Cameron walks down a clinic hallway. The lights are dimmed, the exam rooms on either side dark.]
Chase? [She's not bothering to hide the frustration in her tone. She's only here because he isn't answering his phone, even though he paged her. Even though she suspects it's likely some misguided game, the slim chance that it's an actual emergency is enough to lure her down to otherwise closed clinic.]
Here. [The answering voice, and the hope in it, is weak but audible. On the floor of one of the exam rooms, Chase has managed to elevate his leg with the help of a chair. The amount of blood soaking through his pants and pooling on the floor suggests this is a recent development.] C-Cameron? In here.
What is-- [The question dies with a gasp as she marches in upon the scene, shocked into a moment's pause before training, habit, takes over. The view shakes as she rushes to grab something off a countertop-- a bundle of gauze, something clean to apply pressure-- and kneels next to him, heedless of the mess.] What happened?
[He's been applying pressure himself, tie pulled off to make a crude tourniquet. A last resort move, but it's obvious he wouldn't have gotten far in this state. Shaky and sweating, pale as a ghost, he lets himself fall back as she takes over.]
Came off my bike when I was s-six. Severed... popliteal. [He twitches, swallowing hard to force his jaw into unclenching.] Would have called House. Didn't... think I had... time.
It just... opened up? [She doesn't look up at him, fingers shifting over his leg, trying to get a sense of the damage, pressing the gauze on top of his soaked trouser leg, unwilling to risk pulling or cutting it away, lest it make the damage worse. She presses as hard as she can, trying to keep the artery against the bone, above where she judges the break to be.]
It was Eden. For God's sake, Cameron. [He doesn't have much of a voice left, and still less colour in his face, words hissed through teeth that won't ungrit.] ...Help.
[Cameron doesn't reply, bending to peek between her fingers to see how much blood has seeped through. Too much. One hand still curled firmly around his leg to keep pressure, she reaches up to press her fingers against his wrist, feeling for his pulse.]
I'm calling the ER. [The camera view jostles as she shifts back, obscured by the shadow of her hand as Cameron reaches for the pocket it's sticking out of.] I can't staunch the bleeding, and you're hypovolemic. You need a transfusion, and I can't move you mys--
[The transmission cuts off midsentence as Cameron turns off the device, never noticing it was recording.]
[ooc; speech color = Chase, Cameron. all network replies will come after Chase is out of her hands and in more stable condition. ♥ ♥ ♥]
[The view is wavering and poorly focused, the camera on her PDA just barely poking out from a pocket as Cameron walks down a clinic hallway. The lights are dimmed, the exam rooms on either side dark.]
Chase? [She's not bothering to hide the frustration in her tone. She's only here because he isn't answering his phone, even though he paged her. Even though she suspects it's likely some misguided game, the slim chance that it's an actual emergency is enough to lure her down to otherwise closed clinic.]
Here. [The answering voice, and the hope in it, is weak but audible. On the floor of one of the exam rooms, Chase has managed to elevate his leg with the help of a chair. The amount of blood soaking through his pants and pooling on the floor suggests this is a recent development.] C-Cameron? In here.
What is-- [The question dies with a gasp as she marches in upon the scene, shocked into a moment's pause before training, habit, takes over. The view shakes as she rushes to grab something off a countertop-- a bundle of gauze, something clean to apply pressure-- and kneels next to him, heedless of the mess.] What happened?
[He's been applying pressure himself, tie pulled off to make a crude tourniquet. A last resort move, but it's obvious he wouldn't have gotten far in this state. Shaky and sweating, pale as a ghost, he lets himself fall back as she takes over.]
Came off my bike when I was s-six. Severed... popliteal. [He twitches, swallowing hard to force his jaw into unclenching.] Would have called House. Didn't... think I had... time.
It just... opened up? [She doesn't look up at him, fingers shifting over his leg, trying to get a sense of the damage, pressing the gauze on top of his soaked trouser leg, unwilling to risk pulling or cutting it away, lest it make the damage worse. She presses as hard as she can, trying to keep the artery against the bone, above where she judges the break to be.]
It was Eden. For God's sake, Cameron. [He doesn't have much of a voice left, and still less colour in his face, words hissed through teeth that won't ungrit.] ...Help.
[Cameron doesn't reply, bending to peek between her fingers to see how much blood has seeped through. Too much. One hand still curled firmly around his leg to keep pressure, she reaches up to press her fingers against his wrist, feeling for his pulse.]
I'm calling the ER. [The camera view jostles as she shifts back, obscured by the shadow of her hand as Cameron reaches for the pocket it's sticking out of.] I can't staunch the bleeding, and you're hypovolemic. You need a transfusion, and I can't move you mys--
[The transmission cuts off midsentence as Cameron turns off the device, never noticing it was recording.]
[ooc; speech color = Chase, Cameron. all network replies will come after Chase is out of her hands and in more stable condition. ♥ ♥ ♥]
[don't go out tonight, 'cause it's bound to take your life]
"Like crap," he answers, obligingly. "My head's killing me." Beyond the headache and the dizzying tiredness, there's a blood bruise from the IV on one arm, spread out in varying shades of purple to about the size of a tennis ball. His legs are stiff, but it's when he tries to bend one that his face really falls.
Popliteal artery. Back of the knee. There's a helpless irony when he looks up at her again. "Think I'm going to be walking with a limp for a while."
[don't go out tonight, 'cause it's bound to take your life]
She might have smiled, joked, if the air were clear between them. He and House could have matching canes. But this conversation only works because he's a patient for the moment, and as such she can push aside their issues.
"It doesn't look like there's any permanent damage, at least," she consoles him.