Nemo Resideo

Part 6

"Call radiology. Put in a rush order for a CT. Now." The nurse wasted no time looking at the injuries, just scurried straight to the given task, wedging the receiver between her ear and shoulder as she dialed through to the department. Meanwhile, Dr. Arata grabbed a pair of scissors from the equipment cart beside the bed and started to cut through the thick material of the linen hoodie. As he pushed the severed fabric out of the way, he couldn't help but unleash a string of curses under his breath as he exposed the rest of the young man's back. "Make that an MRI, both if they have the capacities," he grumbled, his strained tone a clear indicator that he wasn't happy about whatever he discovered. "And get those meds in him stat."

Alerted by the urgency and irritation in the surgeon's voice, Isabel glanced over her shoulder to see what had him so disturbed. The sight that greeted her was truly shocking. Multiple bruises, varying in size, shape, and color, were scattered all over the detective's pale freckled skin, and while most of them didn't look too worrisome, one stood out like red ink. An angry dark purple contusion decorated the right flank, about three inches wide and ten inches long running parallel to his spine from just below his ribcage all the way down to the waistband of his jeans. The entire area was significantly swollen, the injury further aggravated by the frequently flexing bow-taut muscles. No wonder the kid was writhing with unimaginable debilitating pain.

"That's a pretty nasty bruise you have here, Detective," Dr. Arata noted parenthetically as he grabbed the small pillows the nurse had discarded near the headboard, stuffing one under Halstead's shoulder blades and the other against his backside to stabilize his position at a ninety-degree angle. "Not exactly the kind of damage a fist or a foot would cause, though," he added wryly as he regarded the almost rectangular outline of the discoloration. Jay remained silent but couldn't hold in a pained whimper when the doctor touched the bumpy skin. David could feel the tremors ripping through him under his fingertips, and the fact that the young man was desperately trying not to flinch didn't go unnoticed by him either. Neither did he miss how the kid clutched the cushion in front of his torso impossibly tight in his right hand. His patient truly needed that pain relief.

Dr. Arata turned around in search of the nurse, but just as he was about to ask Isabel what was taking her so long, she had already discarded the receiver on the counter, put the phone on speaker, and grabbed the tray with the equipment. She carried it over to the left side of the bed, placing it on the cart there, and wordlessly started prepping Jay for the intravenous line. Satisfied with that, the surgeon focused back on his patient, who warily watched the nurse as she disinfected the crook of his arm. "Detective, have you experienced any other symptoms besides the pain?" The officer's Maui blues shifted towards him, furrowing his brows in contemplation. "Any trouble passing urine?" The brunette closed his eyes in embarrassment and tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, nodding hesitantly. "Was there any blood?" Halstead thought about the question for a moment, then shook his head no. "That's a good sign, Detective," David reassured his patient.

Facing the nurse, he added a hushed, "we'll check for microscopic hematuria, anyway, so urinalysis and Hct once he's calm enough." Isabel nodded absentmindedly, simultaneously inserting the needle of the vein catheter into the crook of Jay's elbow, earning herself a tiny flinch and a soft glare from the young man. Knowing of his trypanophobia from his many previous stints at Lakeshore, she offered him a small apologetic smile and patted his sleeved forearm affectionately before pushing the long-overdue medications into the IV.

With pain relief hopefully soon approaching, the surgeon continued his questioning, tackling the more generic symptoms the detective was likely to present, even if they might not be conclusive for his diagnosis. After all, they could just be related to his concussion. "Any nausea? Dizziness? Vomiting?" he asked, receiving two more confirmative nods and one shake of the head. "What about your back pain and cramps? Can you localize it? Is it just the right flank giving you trouble, or does it hurt anywhere else as well? Ribs? Spine?" Halstead tensed involuntarily and averted his gaze. Bewildered, Dr. Arata leaned over the bed as far as he could and searched his face. He was surprised to find Maui blue eyes misting with a myriad of emotions, pain, and anguish, sure, but the one that stood out most looked suspiciously like panic. "Detective?"