ArchivedLogs:Primum non nocere

Primum non nocere
Dramatis Personae Iolaus, Dr. McCoy
In Absentia	2013-04-25 Iolaus and Dr. McCoy have a brief consultation.
Location <XS> Medical Lab
<XS> Medical Lab - B1 Gleaming and sterile, the school's medical facility is all cool science in contrast to the mansion's old-world old-fashion. All stainless steel and antiseptic tinge, the room is filled with the quiet whir-click of the various implements that comprise its medical equipment -- all state-of the art. The hospital beds are curtained off for privacy when they have patients, and in one of the alcoves there is a small operating theatre visible. More heavy-duty equipment is visible in the lab in the back, where the securely locked cabinets keep sensitive equipment out of the reach of teenage fingers. "Iolaus?" Dr. Henry McCoy is dressed for work; the furry blue mutant is clad in his usual white labcoat, dress shirt, tie, and dark-tan slacks - shoeless, his large feet - complete with opposable big toes - slap roughly on the med-lab floor, clawtips clicking. He's currently clutching a clipboard, tapping it steadily against his belt as he walks in. "I'm glad I caught you - I actually wanted an... unofficial consultation, if you don't mind. On Mr. Parker." Iolaus is also drabed in his white labcoat, and he turns to lift one gloved hand up in the air, a single finger extended. With the other, he carefully takes the eye-dropper out of the vial and squeezes several drops carefully out into a small test tube. He stoppers this off with a rubber cap, and places it inside the centrifuge. Once the machine is merrily whirring away, Iolaus turns and gives the other man a polite, apologetic smile as he peels his gloves carefully off. "Sorry about that, Henry. What can I do for you?" The clipboard is passed over to Dr. Saavedro without another word. On top of it is a picture - a photograph - of Parker's leg. Iolaus probably recognizes the stitches he himself put in just a few days ago; what he likely /doesn't/ recognize is the bluish-black splotch-mark - it almost resembles advanced frostbite - that has extended around the injury in a tight-but-fretful halo. "Look underneath," Dr. McCoy adds, a moment after Iolaus sees the picture. There's another one tucked underneath - marked as being taken today. The halo has gotten bigger - almost twice as large, in fact. It extends out in a blossoming swell around the injury - almost five inches in diameter. "I know it looks remarkably sinister, but - so far, it's benign," Dr. McCoy explains. "Aside from the injury, there's no pain or numbness in the afflicted area; I took a sample for a biopsy. It's actually remarkably close to /chitin/. My best guess is a secondary mutation." "Well, well, what do we have here?" Iolaus murmurs, as he looks over the picture. He turns it around in his hand, as if lining it up on an invisible frame. He flips to the next one, briefly, before holding them up side by side. His lips purse, and he frowns at the pictures. "If it's chitin, it certainly sounds like it could be a secondary mutation coming into play." Iolaus says, looking up at the other doctor. He places the two pieces of paper on top of each other and lets his hand drop to the side as he studies the other man's face. "The million dollar question is... is it self-limiting? Do you know if skin is still underneath, or does it go straight to tissue?" Dr. McCoy produces a grim, fanged grin. "I took a second, deeper biopsy today - much to Mr. Parker's protest! Peter is not a fan of needles. The mutation is replacing all layers of skin in the afflicted area - but only the skin. No deeper. It's more of a glucose-based shellac than anything." And then Dr. McCoy drops down to a nearby stool - reaching up to worry away at the bridge of his nose. The fanged grin has disappeared. "I'm not sure what options to offer him. On one hand, I could attempt to remove the afflicted area - skin graft. Very painful, but he might prefer it immensely to the alternative. On the other hand, I don't know what the alternative /is/. We could leave it alone; perhaps it will stop. Maybe it won't. It's not causing him any trouble at /this/ stage - but who's to say what it might do down the road?" Then: "My apologies if this comes off as rather maudlin of me, Iolaus. I sometimes find it frustrating to deal with conditions for which there are no precedents. And every mutation seems to be without precedent." Iolaus chuckles and leans against the countertop of the lab bench, crossing his arms over his chest and flashing the other doctor a warm smile. "That is, in fact, the exact reason why I am so excited to do primary care at my clinic, once it opens." He shakes his head, giving a bemused little chuckle. "Never a boring moment, I think." Iolaus' smile does not last for long, however. "Even before we worry about the grafts, we have to remove it. I think some of the Bacillis are chitinases, and I seem to recall there is a solvant for it as well." His lips purse. "Though it might be poisonous. The Vibrio's, too, but we're not bringing those anywhere near the school." He looks up at the ceiling. "Definitely, removing it is not going to be an easy thing. What choice do we have, though?" "I think I would prefer a little banality now and then," Dr. McCoy counters, although it's more amused than depressed. He reaches, then - behind the medical cabinet he's sitting besides. Tucked away, out of sight. A bottle! Oho. Is that...? Yes. /Sherry/. Dr. McCoy apparently is a naughty physician, sometimes. He reaches for a nearby glass graduated cup, pops the bottle with his thumb-claw, and pours himself... hm. 200 milliliters ought to do the trick. He glances up at Iolaus, one shaggy eyebrow poking up toward the ceiling, as if to ask - if he would care to partake...? "It depends. Removing it might /accelerate/ it. As far as I can see, this happened in response to trauma; what if removing the afflicted area prompted the same response as the initial injury? All that pain and suffering for naught. Worse still; it might hasten the process." Dr. Murphy lifts the glass toward his mouth - but before it makes contact, he adds: "Boy thinks he's turning into a bug." This notion seems to simultaneously amuse and concern him. "Boy might be right." Iolaus points out, raising a finger. This statement causes his lips to purse and he nods his head towards the sherry. Booze + Science = Best Times. "If it's not self-limiting, I suspect he very well may turn into a physical mutant. I'm not sure how much we can do to prevent that, if his body is really trying. It'd certainly be a dangerous attempt." Iolaus' eyebrows furrow, and he looks up at the ceiling."Odd, though. You don't usually see physical mutants present with that dramatic of changes that late in life." he says, rubbing his nose with one knuckle. "Anything else interesting in his chart?" Another graduated glass; another 200 milliliters of sherry, /stat/. Doctor's orders. McCoy might even write Iolaus a prescription for it. Like they haven't heard /that/ joke before. "He's already a physical mutant. Absurd muscle density. Strong, fast, tough. Unusual," McCoy adds, nose furrowing. "Doesn't have any /outward/ signs of mutation." And, ah. There it is; the elephant in the room. "I must admit. Part of my interest in his case is because I'm a doctor, and it's my job - but part of it is also because of the similarities. I didn't turn blue and furry until much later on." Then: "His brain activity is a bit strange, but it's hard to see a connection." "Perhaps, but radical physical mutation later in life seems to be rare." Iolaus accepts the graduated glass and takes a sip, holds the cylinder up, and takes another, small, sip. 25ml, on the nose. "At least, as far as anyone is actually tracking this kind of thing, and we actually know whats rare and whats not." he adds, with a flash of a small smile. The greek drinks another 16ml of the sherry before he starts up again. "I imagine it presents a somewhat different set of psychological impacts." he murmurs, looking the other man in the face. "But, in a way, it is good that you are his physician. It always helps to have the experience." he says, softly. "If we think that is where he is headed." "Mm. Rare, yes. I've seen spontaneous secondary mutations before, but - only in a few instances," Dr. McCoy agrees. "There is so much we don't know, though. But..." He drinks! Another sizable gulp; 60 milliliters, at /least/. McCoy's not stopping to savor it. Criminal! "If that's the direction it goes - he's in the right environment, at least," he agrees, but soon adds: "But - as much as I've learned to live with - even revel in! - my own condition, I'd prefer he'd have the opportunity to /choose/. I cannot say with absolute confidence what, if given the opportunity, /I/ would choose." Then, with a sigh: "I'll talk with him tomorrow. If we're going to do something - we'll have to move fast. The longer we wait, the more uncomfortable the procedure will be." "Even with his strength and his propensity to get into trouble much larger than he realizes," Iolaus frowns at the other doctor. "I am not convinced that there is even anything we /can/ do." He takes a drink - more, this time, draining 50ml out of the cylinder in an instant. He lets out a long sigh, and shakes his head, once. "Primum non nocere." Dr. McCoy suddenly laughs; the glass of sherry is relifted - another pour, once again up toward the 200 ml mark. "Well said! Perhaps doing nothing /is/ the better path in this case. I would like to think so - it is a charming thought - I often feel powerless to help. Perhaps our impotency is sometimes to our benefit." His own - finished. One last drought. The bottle is near-empty. "Mm. But, it is his decision. I think he would be happy as a bug," Dr. McCoy adds, almost absently, "although he would also likely be happy with /not/ being one. We shall see." "Let us hope he is happy with whatever we can give him." Iolaus says, softly. This rather deppressing statement causes him to drain the cylinder and place it down on the counter. He turns to glance over the still-humming centrifuge, checking the timer on the side of it. "I must admit," he says, turning back to the larger man. "It is, perhaps, the hardest lesson that I have ever had to learn."