Title: Doctor's Logs
Author: Istannor 
Series: TOS
Part: 1/1
Rating: PG13
Codes: Lang., content
Summary: McCoy is ordered to keep a personal log as a
physician, of his observations aboard the Enterprise. They
are for his use only, for therapy, and to work out any
issues he might have.

Disclaimer: These are the characters of Paramount and
Viacom, they own them I only check 'em out from the library.
I promise to bring 'em back.

McCoy's logs are often out of order, as far as dates,
secondary to ion storm damage to the memory banks and
his forgetting to back them up on a secondary site, like
Spock told him to.

Doctor Logs 9



Damn, damn, damn, I am really good, handsome too.  Today,
there was a leak in engineering.  The coolant started coming
out from all of the systems in the secondary engineering
room.  Five engineering staff inhaled some of the vapors and
were rushed to sickbay.  Only one of the people that I saw
had a bad reaction. This Ensign had the worst asthma attack
I have ever seen in my life.  His peak flow was only 75 liters
per minute.  He was looking at me with these big brown eyes
that said: please don't let me die.  Don't worry, I had it under
control.  I whipped that boy into shape so fast he didn't get a
chance to have his eyes blink.  That felt good.  Now I
remember why I'm out here.

Sometimes, I forget why I bothered with medicine, and then
something happens to make you know that there really is a
good reason to do this stuff for the rest of your life. When
someone is really sick and they are looking for you to get the
answer for them, it makes you feel like you really can make a
difference.  The simple act of giving someone that chance to
breathe better today made me feel right.  I was dancing on
the edge of a cliff, and I didn't fall off. Most importantly, neither
did the patient.  Seems simple when you look at it, but it
really is one of the most complex phenomena's in the entire
universe.

Everyday  we are out here in space, we are trying to win a
battle against nothing.  Let me explain myself.  There's
nothing around us.  There is nothing protecting us.  There is
nothing to rescue us, except us.  So, when we win a big one,
or even a small one, it feels like we have pushed back the
nothing once again. It felt good to have that kid come in
because he couldn't breathe, shoot him up with steroids,
nudge him a little with mast cells stabilizers, use a lung
specific beta-adrenergic stimulator, and pop his airways
open like the pneumatic doors on this ship. He's breathing
like a baby now.

I sent him out with instructions to take the rest of the day off
and spend it in his cabin.  Knowing how folks his age bounce
back so fast, he probably will be in the rec room tonight
playing games with the crew.  What the hell.

I'm glad there are two doctors on board the ship.  With <500
people on board ship at anytime, we probably don't need two
physicians. But, each of us serves as the fail-safe for the
other. If one of us is hurt, or out of our depth, we can cover for
each other. If there was only one doctor on board a ship like
this, if anything happened to that physician the entire ship
would be out of luck. Also, sometimes we run into problems
where two physicians are needed because of the
emergency, the numbers we encounter, or the severity of
disease.

The only problem with such a small crew and two physicians
is, in the end you get to know most of your patients better
than you want to know them. For instance, I think I'm getting to
know Kirk better than I want to. I think I'm getting closer to him
than I probably need to be. It is very hard to want to keep your
distance from that man. On the contrary, I want to get closer
to him. It's not like he invites you in, he really doesn't. He
keeps a wall around him as thick as the great china wall.
Time and close proximity has permitted me an opportunity to
see through the very few cracks that he allows in that wall.
What I see, makes me wonder about the man that sits the
center seat of this ship. He's guarded, even while he is
smiling and joking with the crew. It is all planned and
controlled camaraderie.

I have had some time to think about the chewing out that Kirk
gave me. When you're right, you're right. He was right. I'll do
better with Spock, I promise. It has been smooth sailing since
then. I saw Kirk the next day and he was through with it. He
had told me off and had nothing else to say on the subject. I
guess he expects me to do better and he didn't even mention
anything about the fact that he tore me a new hole in my butt. I
did tell him that I did look in the mirror, and didn't like what I
saw. He smiled at me and nodded once, and that was all. I
like that. I don't want to have to deal with a man that holds a
grudge, and if this past incident is any indication of his
personality, he lets it out and then goes on. That's real good.
This five year mission may work out after all.

Last night, I was in engineering with Scotty. That man drinks
like a good old boy from Georgia. We all were drinking, lying,
and playing poker.  Chekov, Sulu, Rand, Chapel, and Uhura
were there. Uhura plays poker like a damn shark. If she
hadn't been called out, we all would have been swallowed
whole last night. I ended up even for the night, only thanks to a
glitch in the communications panel on the bridge. Thank the
fates for small miracles.

Scotty told me that Kirk used to play poker with them before
Gary Mitchell and Kelso died.  He said the game used to
come down in the end to Gary and Kirk, time and time again.
Nobody, but nobody, could tell when Kirk was bluffing, not
even Mitchell.  Probably Mitchell's esper abilities gave him a
slight advantage in reading Kirk, but not enough to help him
win any money.  Kirk would win the game, and then give
everybody most of their money back. He would keep part of it
and put it into the ship's general fund. He always said that it
was unfair for the Captain to make his entire crew broke,
especially before Shoreleave. I wonder how much money the
man has of his own. He doesn't spend any money on
extravagant things that I can see, and he doesn't gamble
anymore. I bet Kirk lost his taste for poker after he had to kill
Gary.

I wonder what our Captain Kirk does for fun, now. I think I'll
find out.

At first glance, Kirk seems really friendly and open.  Then, I
think about what we've talked about and he actually reveals
very little of himself.  What he does is listen and make you
think he has been talking. I should have recognized that
sooner since it's a skill they try to teach in medical school.
The goal is to create an atmosphere conducive to a patient
reaching their own level of personal insight. We use it in
psycho-therapy. He uses it with his crew. I know they don't
teach that in Academy Command School; I've taught at the
academy. Very rarely, a little of the real Kirk peaks out, and
the view is intriguing enough that you want to dig, and dig
again, to find the center of the man.

I have been thinking about that lately.  The man doesn't play
poker; he doesn't really drink, he sips; as far as I know, he
has no love interest on board ship.  I have never seen him
play an instrument, and he doesn't participate in any of the
ship board intra-mural activities.  Come to think about it, the
only thing I know this man does is work, exercise, and read
books.  What kind of life is that?

It really isn't fair, that as the Captain, the only people he can
have sex with on-board this ship is his command crew.
Believe it or not, those are the regulations. Shoot, I can tell
you I've been having fun. All my parts work and I use every
last one of them, especially with Laura in hydroponics. So,
my Captain is a 32 yr. old, a healthy adult male with a really
strong sex drive, according to his records, and he is stuck out
in space without any opportunity to get his rocks off for
months at a time.  He has no hobbies, he plays no games
except chess with the Vulcan, and he has no close friends.

I'm sorry, I don't consider his relationship with Spock to be a
friendship.  You can't tell me that Kirk can unload emotionally
with a man who denies he has any emotions.  Who the hell
does he laugh with? I think that one day that young man is
going to explode on us. I hope and pray, the responsibility
doesn't get so great that it crushes him and takes us along
for the fall. I guess I need to sidle up alot closer to James T.,
and be his shoulder to lean on. I bet he really does play a
mean game of poker.

End Log