That's mildly awkward timing, but eh, Nellie's not in a rush. She'll hang around nearby at the nursing station, watching monitors and reading her patients' charts more thoroughly until Chantal reappears. 

"Hey! Can I get a report from you on the admit? Gonna go get him for Mayumi when the ER calls - by the way, an ETA on that would be great?" 

Chantal squints absently at her sheet of paper. "Drowning, swimming pool, mid-twenties. They think they got to him quickly - bystander saw him struggling and then slipping under - wasn't breathing when they pulled him out but still a pulse, the lifeguard had him breathing on his own within a minute or two. Very decreased level of consciousness on the scene, though, even on oxygen, he was never following commands. So they're suspecting drugs were involved. He did vomit, and probably aspirated, he was satting at 70% on oxygen when the paramedics got there. They were going to intubate him on site, get him stabilized, and then head out, they were guessing half an hour." 

"Great. ...Chlorine or saltwater pool?" 

"I– what? I have no idea, does it matter?" 

"It might. Different physiological effects. Though saltwater pools are a lot less salty than ocean water, probably still rounds to freshwater drowning." 

"Oh. Huh. Presumably the paramedics know what pool they responded to. I didn't ask." 

Sigh. "I'd need to look it up again, anyway, s'been a while. Freshwater causes damage faster, and really fucks with electrolytes if they've swallowed a lot, saltwater's more likely to cause godawful pulmonary edema like you've never seen before. ...Either way, we should plan on everything going to hell at, oh, say, midnight, and take our breaks accordingly." 

Chantal surveys the monitors, silences a beeping alarm. "Ma'ar took his sat probe off again, I'll go fix that. Why midnight?" 

"Oh, just, every near-drowning patient I've seen started tanking hard after a few hours, even if they were stable at first. Guess our guy might not be stable at first, I can't tell from that report. ...It's Dr Beckett again tonight, right? Where is she?" 

"Went up to the fifth floor for something," Chantal calls back over her shoulder, heading 202-ward. 

Nellie sighs, sits down in front of the monitors, props her feet up, and gets out her cell phone to text Dr Beckett. 

[Admission incoming] 

[20s M drowning, ~drug OD?? ↓ LOCs sats 70% on O2]

[coming intubated ETA 30min] 

[be prepared for a shitshow later] 

[like seriously though] 

She gets a response several minutes later.

[thx for warning]

[busy rn, txt me & I'll meet you in ER] 

Ma'ar is groggily hunting for something in the dark. Unfortunately he can't remember what it is. Also he can't seem to move his hands very far before something gets stuck? He remembers vaguely that this is supposed to be the case and he shouldn't fight it or else bad things will happen.

He wishes he could remember why it was important. 

He wishes he could remember what he's lost, so he could look for it better. 

Isobel is stuck in 199 with the care aide for the foreseeable future, changing a bedsore dressing - it's nobody's fault, really, it's just impossible to prevent 350-lb people from getting bedsores if they're bedridden for weeks and also desat every time you turn them. 

Chantal turns on only the dimmest light, by the sink, and then hunts for the sat probe. Oh, there, it's just dangling over the bedrail. 

"Ma'ar? You awake?" He looks kind of squirmy. She slides the probe back onto his finger. "Please try to keep it on? For me?" 

Ma'ar only gets half of that because he doesn't try to read minds unless the person is touching him. (He thinks that voice belongs to one of the people who's okay with mindreading in general even though she's not his main nurse? It's very confusing to keep track of who is and who isn't.) 

:Not that: he manages. :Something else: 

Oh no, is he confused again. Chantal hates it when he's confused. "I'm sorry, Ma'ar, I don't know what you mean?" 

:I lost something else: 

"Oh. Uh, was it your picture board? That's right here. On the bedside table. Do you want it in your hand so you know where it is? ...No? Hmm. Suction's here, but you mustn't try to do that yourself, you need to use the call bell and get our attention. Did you lose your call bell– not that either? Um, I don't know. You can try to point at it on the picture board?" 

Ma'ar really doubts that he can try to point at it on the picture board, but he tries to peruse it long enough to remind himself of his options. 

...Something does hurt. But it's not his body. He hurts because of the thing that he lost, only, it's too big to hold onto when he's so tired... He gives up and shakes his head and closes his eyes again. 

Chantal pats his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Call if you need anything, 'kay?" And she heads back out to see what the rest of the unit needs. 

Ma'ar still feels like there's something important that he should be remembering to do? But it's so hard to hold onto, and also people keep telling him that it's very important that he rest, and so it - probably makes sense to do that?

This feels as though it's probably a rationalization of some kind, because going back to sleep is easier than figuring out the other very important thing, but Ma'ar has no energy for that, so he is apparently going to go back to sleep anyway. 

Nellie is still at the nursing station with her feet up, having briefly detoured to bring COPD/CHF guy in 198 his urinal and empty it. (He's very independent for almost everything; he knows the drill, and he only calls for help when he needs to do something that might risk messing with his BiPAP mask. He's got Lasix at midnight and six, but he repositions himself in bed and might not need literally anything else, he's already had a bowel movement on day shift.) 

"- How's Ma'ar doing? I haven't seen him properly, he was asleep when I got in." 

Shrug. "Seemed a bit confused again. At least he wasn't too sedated to do the telepathy this time." 

"I thought we were supposed to be weaning him off sedation period, wasn't that the plan?" 

"It's all well and good to plan that, until he has one of those awful nightmares of his! Apparently he scared the crap out of Krystal on day shift by starting a fire, and Dr Prissan gave him five mg of olanzapine and then he was conked out for the entire afternoon."