Posted by Lieutenant Symar (Chief Medical Officer) in Sickbay – Kastarak reporting for duty and physical exam

Posted by Ensign Kastarak (Doctor) in Sickbay – Kastarak reporting for duty and physical exam

Posted by Lieutenant Symar (Chief Medical Officer) in Sickbay – Kastarak reporting for duty and physical exam
Posted by… suppressed (5) by the Post Ghost! 👻
It had been a long day. Kastarak has set out early in the morning from the Star Fleet transportation ship which met up with the Chernov today. He had been travelling for three days from San Francisco, taking up duty as soon as he graduated. He had seen no need of taking time off before setting off. That would be illogical. Keeping himself busy made him more content and peaceful. Moreover, intrusive thoughts and memories of the destruction of Vulcan were kept more manageable this way – with the added aid of regular meditation and physical exercise.

Keeping fit was important for Kastarak. He was sure he’d get proper amount of time to engage in physical exercise and meditation once he saw how much (or “little”, as he thought) he’d actually be working on the Chernov. During the Academy, he kept himself completely busy with studies and extracurricular studies (in comparative physiology) and working some shifts in the Academy clinic. Recreation was for humans, Kastarak needed to keep himself busy.

The Chernov would be the site of his first-ever space duty. Of course, he had been in space during the Academy. In fact, his first real ride in space occurred during the destruction of Vulcan. He had been on an ambulance shuttle when it occurred. The shuttle was normally used for speedy transport across the vast range of rural land for which his hospital was the only one. It was also an important tourist region for its scenic beauty – mainly by non-Vulcans – and this was where Kastarak’s inter-species medicine specialization was appreciated. During one of the missions where he, and a nurse, were supposed to pick up some Andorian hikers having been injured in the wilderness and assess their injuries. In the end, he was unable to save them. Midway en route, Kastarak received the all-Vulcan order of immediate planetary evacuation. The nurse and he had a quick assessment if they would be able to pick any other people up before leaving the planet, but they were in the middle of nowhere. In the end, they decided they had to leave immediately. Their shuttle hadn’t been to space for years, but it was a gamble of odds. They thought it would carry, and they were right. It took them to space, and they saw the destruction of the many ships around Vulcan, and then, a few seconds later, they saw the implosion of the only planet they had known.

That had been Kastarak’s first space trip (save for one when he was 8, when his grandparents took him to a nearby moon). Now, Kastarak began his first mission. He had become aware that there would be a few other Vulcans on the Chernov. Perhaps, that’s why Star Fleet assigned him to it. There weren’t that many Vulcans left in the universe, even fewer in Star Fleet. It seemed logical that he would be given a crew where other Vulcans existed, so that they might understand one another and help one another with meditation and practicing their rituals and traditions. An added bonutrs was that his closest supervisor, the chief medical officer, was a Vulcan too. At the Academy, they had complained about Kastarak’s bedside manner, and though he had worked hard on making himself more approachable and warmer to non-Vulcans, it gave him a sense of trust in having his closest supervisor and mentor being a Vulcan too. No extra energy was needed to communicate with doctor Symar.

Kastarak entered Sickbay, looked around, and saw the only Vulcan he could find in there.

“Dr Symar, I presume? I am Ensign Kastarak, I have been assigned here as your assistant physician. I am told I need a health check from you, too. Would this time be suitable, or shall I come back later?”

Closing the file on his office console, Lieutenant Symar stood and gave the new medical officer the traditional Vulcan greeting, “Peace and long life Ensign, please take a seat. Can I get you anything?”

-Lieutenant Symar: Chief Medical Officer-

“Peace and long life”, replied Kastarak, still standing. “No, thank you. I look forward to working with you, I have read your file, and your career seems most impressive so far. I trust I have much to learn from your supervision.”

Kastarak looked around, wondered a little where his station would be, but thought it best to wait with impatient questions. He seated himself on the chair across the table from Symar in the CMO office.

“What is it like working here?”

• Ensign Kastarak – Medical Officer

“As I’m sure you will no doubt find out as you settle in to life aboard Chernov, the crew have recently gone through a significant amount of loss due to the death of both their Chief Medical and Engineering Officers. This, of course, has made the human members of the crew decide to make rash decisions when on missions. I am of the hope that this will eventually calm down and the humans will be able to move on from the loss, until then, we must always be prepared to heal any form of injury, both physical and mental.”

-Lieutenant Symar: Chief Medical Officer-

Kastarak took a moment to reflect upon what his CMO had just said. Humans dealt with loss in a strange way, and this was very much a human-centric ship. The last sentence that Symar had spoken peeked Kastarak’s interest.

“Mental injury is, as I understand, common among humans even for smaller events than the loss of kinspeople. The openness of humans to explore those emotions with others, both in constructive and non-constructive ways, has since my Academy days been an interest of mine. I understand that humans find difficulty connecting to us Vulcans. I’ve practised human psychotherapeutic methods such as mirroring, using my own facial movements to mirror the face of the patient. It works well when humans do it on humans, but I have been told I appear insincere when I do so.” Kastarak was quiet again. “How do you express empathy and concern to our patients?”

Symar arched an eyebrow, “I have found, during my encounters with the human members of the crew, that offering a comforting word to them in a difficult time, even though we may not articulate the feeling in a noticable way, it is as close to… feeling their problem as we could.”

-Lieutenant Symar: Chief Medical Officer-

Although not entirely in agreement of Symar’s reply, Kastarak decided not to make a thing out of it.

“Thank you, sir”, he said, using sir to show that he remains subordinate to his superior officer. “Now, what else is required of us to finish in this meeting? A physical examination?”

– Ensign Kastarak, Medical Officer

Symar inclined his head slightly, the Vulcan eqivalent of a nod and gestured to one of the biobeds behind him, “Indeed, are there any previous conditions of yours that I, or any member of the medical team should be aware of?”

-Lieutenant Symar: Chief Medical Officer-

“None somatic,” replied Kastarak promptly. He considered whether to tell Symar of the intrusive thoughts, memories, and emotions of terror, shock and grief that overcome him frequently, all related to the destruction of Vulcan. How long had it been now? The years fly by quickly. While he knew from medical school that post-traumatic stress could and would affect Vulcans, and how research into the societal stigma of psychiatric conditions in Vulcan showed that psychiatric disorders had been long underdiagnosticised, he could not shake off the uneasiness of telling Symar of it. Should Symar be aware of it? Was it necessary? Was it logical for Symar to know? What went on in Kastarak’s mind was Kastarak’s own business. Vulcans don’t discuss pon-farr, yet everyone goes through it on a regular basis. It is something everyone knows and yet never discuss. Presumably, the destruction of the Vulcan homeworld would affect every single survivor in one way or another. Yet it is nothing Vulcans discuss. Indeed, it is not logical or necessary to discuss emotions. The remedy is simple. More meditation, more mental discipline. More logic.

“Two of my great grandfathers suffered from Tuvan syndrome. Perhaps there is some heredity there, but they both lived to 150 or so. Other than that, the only thing I can think of is a childhood infection of choriocytosis. I recovered well. There is no need for concern. As the humans say, I believe I am as healthy as a horse. What does your scan say?”

– Kastarak (Ensign, MO)