|
Suggested
Rating: for teen and
older readers
Category: Daniel/Janet friendship
Setting: a missing scene during The Broca Divide
Synopsis: General Hammond has ordered Daniel and
Teal’c to return to the planet and obtain a
sample of blood from the untouched natives. But they’re going to require a
little instruction first.
Author’s
Comments: This was
spawned by recent discussion on tv.groups.yahoo.com/group/danandjan. Thanks ever so much to my friend,
Glenda, for her nursing knowledge and expertise. Any errors with regard to the medical
procedure discussed in this story are entirely mine. And although it’s not my norm,
I’m opting not to have this one beta read before inflicting in on
everyone. Apologies in advance.
DISCLAIMER: All
publicly recognizable characters and places (the Stargate
SG-1 stuff) are the property of MGM, World Gekko
Corp and Double Secret Productions.
This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment only and no
infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and
places, and this story, are creations of the author. Any similarity to real persons, living
or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the
author.
PHELBOTOMY 101
- by
Michelle Lunsford (March 2007)
Brows
furrowed in concentration, Daniel got a firm grip on the orange. His tongue darted across dry lips as
he placed the beveled point against the orange’s rippled skin, making
certain to keep the bevel side facing upward. Perspiration dotted his nose and he
felt his glasses begin to slip.
With a slow intake of air he pressed forward…
The
needle slipped, barely missing his knuckle where it rested against the side of
the orange, and he cried out in something between a yelp and a rather
colorful Abydonian curse.
“Doctor
Jackson, you mustn’t force it.” The voice was kind and for a moment
Daniel wished she’d be a bit more reproachful so he could at least have
the satisfaction of stewing at her.
“I
wasn’t trying to,” he retorted.
One brow
arched above chocolate eyes reflecting perfect impassivity as Doctor Janet Fraiser planted a hand on one hip. She held the pose for a couple of
heartbeats, then shook her head and managed a smile. “I think you’re just a bit
nervous,” she ventured.
There’d
been no condemnation in her voice and Daniel experienced a prickling of
regret for his petulance. The
sensation was not helped by the fact that she’d managed to pinpoint his
problem rather succinctly – he was
nervous. But what irritated him
most was the fact that he couldn’t figure out why. He wasn’t a total novice with
this sort of thing. He’d
completed standard first aid instruction as part of his field work training
years ago. He’d implemented
that knowledge on more than one occasion, without any problems
whatsoever. He’d even
helped to deliver a baby at one point.
So why was he having so much trouble learning how to draw blood?
He
realized she was staring at him, her entire stance communicating
long-suffering but determined expectation, and one possible answer to his
conundrum flashed in his mind.
Good grief, this is just like
being back in first-year studies with Doctor Murphy.
The
comparison was somewhat absurd, he reflected an instant later. Doctor Jonathan Murphy was a
six-foot-six African-American archaeology professor who was built like a tank
and had a voice to match. And Daniel
guessed that Doctor Fraiser barely reached
five-foot-two on a good day. But
Murphy’s favorite method of teaching had been to quickly rattle off the
basics and then let you get to work, often while he hovered just over your
shoulder. Despite her diminutive
size, this woman was managing to achieve a similar effect, even as she stood
several paces in front of him.
“Doctor
Jackson?” She took a couple
steps toward him and pointed at the orange in his hand. “I suggest you try again.”
He looked
down at the offending object and fought against an urge to stab it with the
needle he still held in his other hand.
“Right.”
“This
time,” she added, stepping still closer, “why don’t you try
not to think too much about what you’re doing.”
His head
jerked up and he blinked at her.
Not think about it? The list
of instructions she’d provided earlier ran through his brain in quick,
but lengthy, detail and he blinked at her again. Is
this some type of medical humor that I don’t know about?
She
smiled, as if sensing his thoughts, and pointed at the orange once more. “Try again. Only this time, I want you to tell me
something about yourself at the same time.”
Daniel
doubted that was going to help but he nodded and set to the task. “I, um… I studied at the University of Chicago,” he began, setting the
needle against the orange in what he hoped was somewhere between a 30-45
degree angle.
“Was
that for your doctorate in archaeology or linguistic studies?”
He paused
to peer at her over the rims of his glasses.
“I
have read your file,” she replied, and Daniel thought he detected a trace
of impishness in her tone.
“Ah.” He returned his attention to his
task. “I actually did some
work for both while at Chicago.”
He
noticed, in his peripheral vision, that she had now
stepped around beside him, presumably to get a better look at his handiwork
with the orange.
“It’s
a shame we didn’t know each other when I was in med school,” she
said matter of fact. “I had the devil of a time trying to get through
Latin. Really could have used a
decent tutor.”
“Were
there none available where you studied?”
“Yes. But after two different attempts, with
each tutor being more interested in trying to get me into his bedroom than in
helping me actually understand Latin, I decided to just slog through it on my
own.”
He nearly
dropped the orange. He certainly
would have dropped the needle if it hadn’t been securely placed by
then.
And
that’s when it hit him. The
needle was positioned in the orange, exactly as it should be. He’d done it.
“There,
see how easy that was?”
He looked
up, caught sight of her genuine smile, and managed one of his own. “You were right. It was easier when I wasn’t
thinking too much about it.”
He shook his head.
“How did you know to try that?”
She
shrugged and turned toward the row of cabinets along the wall. “Just took a chance, I
suppose.” She was rummaging
around now, pulling out various supplies. “I used to have the same problem
when I first started out in medicine.
I’d get so worked up thinking
about what I was supposed to do, that I couldn’t actually do it. I had to learn to talk myself down,
let the knowledge that was in my head kick in automatically so to
speak.”
“Ah.” Daniel eyed the collection of items
she’d just placed on the cart beside them and his stomach sank. “Are these
what I think they’re for?”
“Mr.
Teal’c was such a quick study, exampling the
proper technique so well, that given our current situation I figured we could
forego tracking down a human subject on which he could practice.” She began to slip out of her white lab
coat. “But something else
just occurred to me – I actually haven’t had time to test myself
yet.” Standing with her
back to the bed, placing her palms against the surface for support, she
hopped up onto it with ease.
“Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”
Daniel
swallowed. “Um, Doctor Fraiser, I’m not so sure—”
She waved
a hand, cutting him off.
“You’ll be fine, Doctor Jackson. Just do exactly what you did
before.”
He
glanced back and forth between her and the supplies on the cart, a wary
resistance holding him in place.
“Listen,”
she sighed, and titled her head to catch his eye. “It’s Daniel,
right?”
He
nodded.
“Daniel,
you’re not the first person I’ve allowed to test on me their
newly-developed skill of blood drawing.
And although we’ve only recently met, I can honestly say that
based on our interaction thus far I trust you as much if not more than I have
most of them. You can do
this. I know you can. So…” she extended her arm
and nodded toward the waiting supplies.
Steeling
his resolve, Daniel reached for the cart and rolled it closer as he moved
toward her. Don’t think too much about it, just do it, he repeated to
himself as he pulled on the rubber gloves. Don’t
think too much about it… find something to talk about.
“So,”
he began, and tied the tourniquet around her upper arm. “Are those captain’s bars
I see on your shoulder?”
“Yes.” Her tone was
conversational, but Daniel knew she was watching him closely.
He wiped
the inside of her arm with an alcohol swab. “What made you decide to join
the Air Force?”
“Actually,
I wanted to be a doctor first,” she confessed as he began probing her
skin with his fingers, searching for a proper vein. “I received one of those toy
doctor bags for my birthday when I was like five or six, and my parents
always told me that’s what cinched it –
I never talked of doing anything else after that.”
Her story
was helping him to relax and he managed a hint of smile as he met her eyes
before reaching across to the cart for the needle.
“But
when I got to high school,” she went on, “I became best friends
with a girl whose dad was an Air Force pilot and he made a very positive
impression on me.”
Daniel
fixed his thumb against her skin, providing the necessary tension to help
anchor the vein in place.
“So then you decided to do both.”
“Exactly. Now, what about you,” she asked
as the needle found its mark.
“Uh…
excuse me?” He’d been
paying close attention, to make certain he lowered the needle almost horizontal
against her arm before advancing it further along her vein, and so
wasn’t clear what she’d intended by her question.
Part of
his mind registered that Doctor Fraiser was no
longer speaking, even as he noted that the blood didn’t seem to be
flowing into the collection tube as freely as it should be. His forehead creased, eyebrows
scrunching in confusion, and then he felt a light tapping on his shoulder.
“Tourniquet,”
she said simply after he looked up.
“Oh,
right – sorry.” He
quickly released the pressure on her upper arm.
“I
meant,” she continued, unruffled, “was there anything specific
that influenced your career choice?”
He made a
show of watching the vial fill with blood before murmuring, “My parents
were archaeologists.”
Nothing
more was said as he completed the remainder of the task and Daniel avoided
making eye contact as he fixed the piece of cotton over her puncture point
with a strip of medical tape. He
didn’t know why she was choosing not to follow up on his last
comment. Maybe it was simply
because he’d finished drawing her blood and that provided a convenient
stopping place for the conversation.
But he suspected she hadn’t missed the tension he’d been
unable to keep from his voice.
With
tenacious effort he clamped down on the grief of that loss during his
childhood and lifted his eyes to her face. The compassion he saw there was
earnest and bold, and he felt a peculiar sense of empathy. Her smile was fleeting, with a hint of
sadness about it, and then she graciously glanced away.
Before
the silence could become awkward, Daniel cleared his throat and said,
“Well, I commend you on being an excellent teacher, Doctor Fraiser.”
He offered the vial of blood as proof.
“I
told you that you could do it,” she replied, taking the blood sample
from him. Daniel thought he
detected a glimmer of her former regard, lingering around the edges, and then
she shifted into full medical mode once more. Easing down from the bed she held up
the vial and said, “I should get this to the lab.”
“Right,”
Daniel nodded. “And I
should probably go check in with Teal’c. I’m sure he’s gotten our
gear together by now.”
He turned
to go but was halted by a light touch at his elbow.
“Be
safe, Doctor Jackson. And good
luck.”
Her
manner was professional, but Daniel didn’t doubt the sincerity of her
words. “Thanks,” he
replied.
As he
watched her walk away, it occurred to him that he’d learned more than
merely how to draw blood from someone.
In a short time this petite doctor had managed to reveal an interesting
mix of intensity and gentleness.
She was counting on him, and he realized that he didn’t want to
let her down. With renewed
resolve, Daniel headed toward the locker room.
~ THE END
~
|