The kid looks pretty overwhelmed. ...Marian should really try to figure out the kid's name at some point. And, like, get her a nicer blanket and some juice or something. Really what she should do is try...drawing, or something...to find out if the kid knows contact information for any other adult who knows the patient, ideally an adult who speaks English, but that sounds like an incredibly frustrating process and it miiiiight just be easier to wait until morning when the phone interpreter line opens. 

She buzzes them through the ICU doors. Louis-Philipe, sitting at the computer workstation outside 206, spins his chair around to look. 

"Admit," Marian explains. "Could use help." 

Nellie, as usual, has a sixth sense for exactly when an admit is about to arrive, and is already hovering outside 202. "That took a while. How unstable is he?" 

"Suspected organophosphate toxicity," Dr Sharma says tightly, maneuvering the IV pump through the open glass doors. "Or something cholinergic, it's not confirmed. So he's not doing great. He got atropine ten minutes ago, hoping that'll hold him for a few more minutes. - Marian, have that ready to go on the half-hour. I want to confirm dosing with poison control -" 

"Jesus on a stick," Nellie says, heartfelt. "What's he had total so far? Over how long?" 

"Two followup doses, and it's 3 mg per, so...9 mg total?" Wow that's a lot. In, like, one hour. 

"- Bet he'll need a lot more. Patient I had in Texas needed, like, fifty mg before he stabilized. And we'll want pralidoxime but I don't remember the dosing protocol. We should draw labs before we start that, the usual test is for plasma or RBC acetylcholinesterase activity but I don't actually know if our lab even does that..." 

Dr Sharma is staring at Nellie with an expression of abject gratitude. "- I should go call now. Marian, have the atropine ready and - probably give it right away if he goes brady again, I guess? We'll need a Foley and gastric tube, if I'm not back come get me to confirm placement once you have the X-ray. I'll be in the conference room. Tell me if any other labs come back abnormal." 

She hurries off. 

...Marian feels slightly abandoned now. Which is stupid. She's a grown adult who is capable of doing reasonable things without a resident babysitting her, even if something is very unreasonably wrong with her patient. 

They should probably get him transferred to the ICU bed ASAP before he decides to get unstable again. 

The patient does manage to desat down to 78% during the thirty seconds it takes them to get the slidey mat under him and haul him onto the bed, but avoids doing any scary heart rate shenanigans. 

Great, okay, ventilator plugged back in - portable monitor cassette transferred to the main monitor - cycle a blood pressure for what feels like the hundredth time today just on this patient - and then Marian is VERY PREPARED and has suction right there, both to hook to the in-line endotracheal tube suction circuit and one with a yankauer oral suction catheter already attached. The ventilator volumes don't look awful, so maybe she can even properly deal with the saliva first. 

(There's also a towel on top of the clean pillow, because Marian was expecting this.) 

There is a truly unreasonable quantity of saliva. And, if possible, somehow an even more unreasonable quantity of lung secretions. Not particularly gross lung secretions, they're white to clear and slide up the suction tubing without difficulty, but it keeps going. 

Euuuuuuuughhhhhh. 

And then Nellie is nudging Marian's shoulder. 

"Hey. I'll get him settled from here, do the gastric tube and Foley. You focus on the kid for a couple minutes, 'kay? She's having the worst day of her life and she keeps looking at you. Go show her the bathroom, get her a blanket from the warmer and some juice, and– oy! Louis-Philipe! Find a recliner chair for her!" 

...Right. That's a good suggestion. She's pretty sure they're going to end up ignoring the kid for kind of a lot of the night, if it keeps going the way it has been so far, and if it were her in that situation - in a foreign country or something, in unfamiliar surroundings, with her parent-or-relative-or-whatever incapacitated and maybe dying - she would, well, for one she would not be coping nearly so gracefully, but also it feels like a few minutes of someone paying attention to her might go a long way. 

Tsashi isn't getting upset, but it's been an increasingly difficult not-getting-upset. There are so many things happening and she doesn't know how to read the Healing-Sight magic and can't tell whether it's good or bad, which is stressful. The Healers keep doing things to Lionstar that look like they should hurt a lot and he's not moving or resisting or even showing signs that he feels it, which is actually even scarier than if he were fighting them. 

They're a long way from home, though, and right now Lionstar needs her to learn things about this place. She controls her expression and goes with the Healer. 

Marian stops in the hallway, still in sight of the patient. She smiles again, then slowly and obviously points at her own chest. "Marian." 

Oh! That one isn't too hard to figure out! 

Tsashi nods solemnly. "Merr-rayn?" she tries. 

Close enough! Marian beams at her. 

It's good to know one person's name. 

Tsashi points at herself. "Tsashi." She pronounces it clearly and carefully. 

"Sashy?" That's an interesting name. Marian wonders vaguely what ethnicity it is. 

Eager nodding.

...Tsashi hesitates, then points back into the room. "Lionstar." If she were a Healer she thinks it would bother her, not knowing the name of someone she was trying to help. 

That one is slightly more of a mouthful. Marian tries to wrap her tongue around the foreign syllables. "Lionstar?" 

Nodding! 

Tsashi wants to ask if he's going to be all right. Maybe she could even convey that question just by pointing at him and saying him name again and gesturing. It's probably a pretty obvious question for her to have. But she still doesn't speak the language and it's not as though she would understand the answer. 

Marian really wishes she could explain! But she's not actually sure what the patient's prognosis is, her memories of nursing school are failing to dig up anything on whether, with supportive treatment, it's closer to 'full recovery after an unpleasant few days' or 'permanent organ damage.' And the physiological problems he's currently having and the treatments they're trying would be complicated to explain to a kid even if they spoke perfectly fine English or French. 

She'll take "Sashy" down the hall instead and show her where the bathroom is. 

Tsashi had been wondering if they were trying to shoo her to a different place to wait, the village sort-of-Healer doesn't like hangers-on, but she would have expected them to put all the unhurt people in one place to wait; there are definitely lots of other people here being Healed, maybe even dozens of them, it's a big Healing house. 

This room is very small and she's not sure what it's for? It has a strange uncomfortable-looking sort of stool and an equally strange artifact sticking out of the wall and not much else. Tsashi would investigate but she's gotten the feeling that the Healers would rather she touch fewer things, which is sort of reasonable, when she was little her mother would always slap her for touching the loom or poking at things when she was cooking.