"They got something other than morphine where you're from? It's in the yellow cabinet, key's at the nurses' station, I'll put in for the x-ray."

"Yeah, we've got other things." Merrin's mysterious language knowledge is informing her that morphine is a painkiller, which she already knows just from context, but it doesn't seem like whatever-happened is telling her any more about it. She'll need to look it up or something. Probably there's a reference book or something somewhere around here. "Um, just to clarify, do you want me to use my own judgement on the dose and route of administration?" It would be FASTER if he would just TELL her since she doesn't have the faintest idea what the range of options is, but also that's probably a very silly use of his time. "Also, how does 'putting in' for the X-ray actually work, we have different systems for that kind of thing." 

"Do 5 milligrams subcutaneous, it's what we always do, I'll put the x-ray on his chart when it exists, if you don't know how to run it talk to the charge nurse." (Ugh, new people. Nobody should ever change jobs.)

There's no point interpreting this as rude, he's busy, it's not his fault that this place has nothing in the way of reasonable onboarding processes. 

(Merrin is tempted to give someone advice on that, but now isn't the time. She'll just take thirty seconds to make a note of it for herself. Maybe at the end of her half-shift she can go find Carson and ask if this is something they want her advice on and if so who to talk to.) 

"Thanks," she says. She doesn't at all have a mental picture of what his 'chart' actually is, but she can figure that out on her own, or by asking whoever's in charge of that side of things. Probably she's also supposed to document the morphine order in there? For now it goes on the paper she's dedicated to notes about this particular patient. 

She heads to the nurse's station to ask whoever looks least busy about the key to the yellow cabinet and also the location of a reference book about the drugs they use here; she has to explain again that she's new and trained in another country that used different drugs. 

The charge nurse gives her the key to the yellow cabinet, which is attached to an eight-inch metal stick. The reference book on drugs is right he--nope someone else is using it, how about the charge nurse just explains the effects of morphine and what to look out for really fast.

Well, that's one way to avoid losing a small object, if your world doesn't have the tech to put tiny locator chips in everything, which on reflection obviously they don't. It's kind of unwieldy though. 

...Merrin does NOT LIKE giving a drug where she only has a short verbal explanation of what it does, and also she suspects she doesn't like morphine period. Dath ilan also mostly doesn't use needle injections - if a patient can't take oral drugs, or needs a faster effect, there are much less invasive ways of doing it - but fortunately as part of Exception Handling training she at least knows how, and the empty syringes and needles look pretty straightforward. 

- the actual morphine receptacle does NOT. "Um, sorry, excuse me?" she calls after the charge nurse. "I haven't - what do I actually do with this?" The morphine, rather than being in a receptacle that can be affixed directly to a needle and injected directly, or even a multidose vial or bottle, is in some kind of tiny sealed glass tube-thing that...doesn't...as far as she can tell...have a lid. It's utterly mysterious to her how she's supposed to get the contents out. (Also it's the wrong amount but presumably she can only give half? Probably?) 

The charge nurse looks at her like she's wondering where the hell Merrin went to nursing school and then explains that you're supposed to break the top off at the little score line.

You're supposed to WHAT. 

Merrin has spent literally thousands of hours training for weird scenarios that involve working without access to her usual equipment and supplies, including 'your city is being invaded by aliens who have captured the hospital complex and the only way to get access to medications at all is to requisition them from citizens' personal supplies', or one (very memorable and fun) scenario that involved being holed up in a biochemistry research lab and needing to instruct students on how to synthesize the substances she needed. But even then, there is absolutely no sane hypothetical she can imagine that would involve someone handing her drugs in a CONTAINER WITHOUT A LID. And this, as far as she can tell, isn't even slightly an exception! This is just what's in the standard medication cabinet! What!!?? 

...She can wonder what the drug manufacturers are thinking later. Maybe this world lacks any sensible regulation around Ill-Advised Consumer Goods and all of the researchers who design drugs are taking them all the time  Actually it's probably somehow WORSE than that. Never. Mind. Later. 

...Also, right, this is a timely reminder that this entire country exists in a state of extreme poverty compared to what she's used to and she should not assume anything about resource availability. "I, um, is there a good way to save the half of it I'm not using right now, or should I just dump it out? It's not going to stay sterile once it's open, right?" 

"Yeah no it won't keep, you just gotta toss it."

"Huh. Okay."

Breaking open the stupid tube is mildly nervewracking, but Merrin finds an antiseptic swab to protect her fingers against glass edges, and then peers very carefully at it to make sure no glass fragments ended up in the liquid inside. 

...After a moment's consideration, she pulls the second half of the contents into a different syringe and caps it, with a random unopened needle since she can't find dedicated caps. It'll stay good for a couple of hours, at least, and the patient might need a follow-up dose, especially if the doctor wants to do a painful examination or - and this seems concerningly plausible! - set the bone by hand right there in the patient's cubicle-bed, rather than taking him to a procedure room for it and doing a more thorough job under sedation and with continuous scanning. Probably they don't even have that. 

(Merrin is actually trained in setting bones by hand with no scanning equipment or supplies other than improvised splint materials. She's even done it on actual patients, though only as a temporary measure, the times she was sent to stabilize patients injured in remote wilderness locations so that they could be safely evacuated. There's absolutely no reason for the doctor to know that, though, or trust her claims to expertise, since she has none of her documentation with her, and her particular training is...unusual. Nobody has asked her for any details on it, either. If the doctor asks her to do it herself she's going to have CONCERNS about this place's due diligence.) 

She pockets the capped syringe and screws the other one to the tiniest needle she can find, which is still a half-inch long and - she doesn't actually know what the 'gauge' measurement means but it looks thicker than really necessary to inject subcutaneously, poor guy, this is going to sting.

She takes it to him, though, and quickly explains the medication and dose and possible side effects. "I'll check back in fifteen minutes," she promises. "It may take longer than that to feel the full effect but you should be noticing some relief after that long. But do please get someone's attention and ask for me if you're feeling worse in any way, all right? ...I'm sorry, the injection is going to hurt some." 

"Course it will. Go ahead."

It's something of a relief that he at least knows what to expect! "Have you had morphine or something like it before?" she asks, to distract him while her hands are busy swabbing a patch of flesh on his upper arm and injecting the drug. She practiced the motion of it ten times in a row, earlier, so despite the materials not being what she's used to, she has it done quickly and neatly in about five seconds. (She doesn't want it to hurt him more than necessary, and she also tries to always look confident in what she's doing in front of patients, since most people find that reassuring.) 

"Just the once. When I got my tonsils out."

"Good, so you'll know what to expect. I'll check on you soon, all right? Oh, and I've spoken to the doctor - he agrees with me that you should have an X-ray of your leg, and once he's had a chance to look at that, I'm sure he'll come talk to you about the plan." Though given how swamped everyone seems, here, Merrin is increasingly suspecting that this hospital exists in a permanent state of limited-resource-triage and, given that her patient is stable and not likely to deteriorate over time, this might take a WHILE. "Um, do you want a book or anything to pass the time while you're waiting? Or is there someone you could call to come be here with you and keep you company?" 

"I'd take a book if you have one? Or I can just try to catch a nap."

"...I don't actually have a book on me, sorry, but I'll see if I can find one." 

And, since she hasn't immediately been assigned another patient and she could use a minute to gather her thoughts anyway, Merrin decides that she might as well walk a circuit around the unit to look for ambient books or other reading materials. She'll feel more comfortable if she's oriented to what's going on with the other nurses, and in the meantime she'll hopefully look busy enough that no one interrupts her, so she'll have a chance to gather her thoughts a bit. 

There's a kid with a dog bite and a nurse stitching him up. There's a woman apologizing for her clumsiness to the nurse bandaging her hand. There's an elderly man breathing with the difficulty and sound of operating a blunt saw. There's a woman with what Merrin might not have the priors to recognize as alcohol poisoning getting set up with IV fluids. There's a terrified-looking young woman with a baby in her arms answering a bunch of questions.

There are also a bunch of patients currently waiting rather than being attended by nurses, who are all very occupied. Most of them have already been bandaged or stitched or hooked to IVs and are waiting, looking bored, some reading newspapers or books, some accompanied by family. 

...That older lady in the corner bed is alone. And looks - not great? 

Merrin makes a face, but she stops walking, and approaches the patient. 

"Hey. Excuse me. How are you feeling?" 

This gets a not particularly coherent mumble about whether the 'nice firemen' left the oven on. 

The patient looks very unwell. Pale and clammy, eyes unfocused, breathing faster and shallower than it should be. 

Aaaaaaaaaaaah why is nobody with her! The kid with the dog bite and the woman with the cut on her hand are clearly lower priority than whatever's wrong here! 

"My name is Merrin, I'm one of the nurses here," Merrin says, as reassuringly as she can, while she checks the woman's pulse. (Rapid and thready and noticeably irregular.) "I'm going to take your blood pressure, okay?" Fortunately the cuff-and-stethoscope setup, while different from what she would use in an improvised-supplies-only scenario, is possible to figure out just by looking at it. "Can you tell me your name and where you are right now?" 

The woman squints at her. "In the hospital, dearie. Could I trouble you with one thing? I'm so very worried about the oven -" 

"I'm sure it's fine." The woman didn't answer the first question, but she has a hospital bracelet. "You're - Sherry Williams, that's right?" 

"Yes, dear. Those nice firemen..." She trails off, as though forgetting her next thought entirely. 

Blood pressure cuff on arm. "Sherry, can you tell me what happened? Why did they bring you to the hospital?"