"Ummm. No. Social work yeah, but they didn't show today." Marian tries to picture the usual hospital psychiatrist - a cadaverous-looking older man who dresses like a Mormon and talks so quietly you need to be within two feet of his face to hear him - talking to Ma'ar. It's a bizarre and kind of hilarious mental image. 

"Sounds like he could use one. I'll see if I can nab that resident tonight while he's trapped in 192 and can't run away. Hmm. What's his diet?" 

"I've given him some ice chips, that's it so far. He was practically begging for water before, when he first got extubated, but he's been really drowsy since then." 

"Guess I'd better get him something other than morphine for pain, then. He's still got the NG in for now? Convenient. I bet a guy from a fantasy universe has no idea how to swallow pills. I'll see if I can squeeze an order for 'advance diet as tolerated' out of the resident too. Mobility status?" 

...Wow, this is such an embarrassing report. Marian does not normally need to be prompted like this. Normally she has neatly organized notes. 

"Uh, I wouldn't push it yet. You could maybe dangle him tonight if you're feeling ambitious, but he's pretty weak." 

"Well, I've got to do something to keep me busy tonight or I'll lose my mind. Last bowel movement?" 

"...I did not ask." 

"Honestly, if I'd been fighting a war and then got teleported to another fucking universe, I don't think I'd remember my last shit." Nellie's back at the desk, logging herself into the EMR and skimming through. "Ooh, shiny new labs! Guess what, everything except his sodium is normal!" 

Marian squints at the numbers. Sodium up to 132. "At least it's headed in the right direction?" 

"Hmm. Do I have to keep doing hourly glucose checks?" 

"Shit. I, uh. Might've forgot that was still the order. I'd kind of just been checking it when he seemed off, and then the admit happened. - I've been doing it from the art line, by the way, I'm really trying to avoid sticking him, he's got...bad associations." 

"It's not like anyone likes being jabbed with needles! I'll get it changed to Q2hours for now, see if he levels out once I make him shove some Jello in his face-hole. ...I wonder if fantasy-world has Jello? I bet they don't have fake strawberry flavour. Or, heaven forbid, blue raspberry. Ooh, and if he's up for solid food by tomorrow we can introduce him to pizza..." 

"Does the patient kitchen even do pizza?" 

"Eh, Dominoes across the street does. But we'll start him off gently, hypothermia kind of shuts everything down and dumping pressors on him can't've helped." She scoots her chair back. "Anything else, or should we go in and see him?" 

Marian is about 90% sure that she's forgotten at least one thing, but it's not coming to her right now. Hopefully being in the room will shake loose any missing bits. "Sure, let's. Uh, how about I go in first and orient him a bit and then introduce you?" 

"Great, yeah, let's not unnecessarily startle the PTSD wizard. Any idea what else he can do, by the way?" 

"He shouldn't do anything much right now! I even made a picture board for him so he can communicate basic needs and stuff without wearing himself out doing the telepathy. And he can do portals - he got out of the river that way. And then passed out. I thought I was hallucinating." 

"Portals. Rad. I'll wait out here." 

Marian feels bad about waking Ma'ar again, but not very bad, he's satting at 90% and clearly has some upper airway gunk to hork up, she can hear it without a stethoscope. 

"Ma'ar. Hey. It's Marian. Time to wake up for a bit. Hey?" 

It takes him five seconds to really respond, and then his eyes fly open. He tries to sit up, and immediately falls back and starts coughing. 

:...Marian?: 

Yep, that sure is a bunch of lung snot. She really should have been bugging him more about this, but he looked so sad (and also SHINY ADMIT.) 

She cranks up the head of the bed. "That's good, you need to cough that up - here's the mouth suction -" She offers him the yankauer oral suction. "By the way, your night nurse is here. Her name is Nellie. Can she come in?" 

:Can I - have a moment -: Coughing hurts his throat a lot, and is making him gag. He collects the gummy phlegm in the suction thingy - his mouth is still so dry - and then has to close his eyes and focus on breathing deeply through his nose, fighting back nausea. 

That is a facial expression that you learn to recognize after the first few times that you end up with a patient's breakfast all over your scrubs. 

"Do you need to throw up?" 

Ma'ar shakes his head. :She can come in now: 

One also learns not to trust patients' self-assessments of whether their breakfast is imminently about to be all over one's scrubs. 

"All right. One second - Nellie, you can come in -" She ducks over to the counter and checks the third drawer down. At least this one is less randomly and uselessly restocked. She brings Ma'ar one of the vomit bags. "If you feel sick, do it in here, okay? If you can, no one's going to be mad at you or anything..." 

To Nellie, "- I think he just tickled his gag reflex with the yankauer? He did seem nauseated before when he was hypoglycemic, though, we should grab a blood sugar soon."