[JP] Samantha Richards & Doctor Roy Bancroft - What to Expect When You're Expecting the Unexpected Part 2
Samantha Richards
(( Primary Sickbay - Deck 7, USS Artemis-A ))
Bancroft: oO It’s probably just scanner drift. Or a mild calcium absorption variance. Or… just nothing. Probably nothing. ::beat:: I’ve been wrong before. Twice. One of them involved a Targ. I don’t want to think about the other. Oo
He slid his PADD aside and looked back up at Sam. The moment had gone soft again. The hum of the ship’s systems. The quiet between two people who weren’t quite strangers anymore.
Bancroft: ::offering a warm smile:: So, before we start handing out gold stars and naming constellations after your two little ones, there is one tiny, barely worth mentioning thing I want to flag.
He turned the display slightly – not in alarm, but with the calm curiosity of someone pointing out a smudge on an otherwise flawless window.
Her heart dropped. The shift in Roy’s tone was concerning. She shook her head in disbelief.
Richards: Is there something wrong with them…
In the small moment before he spoke again, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest and a tightening making it hard to breath. She tried to listen to his words through the emotional static taking over.
Bancroft: It’s the little one on the left – your daughter. Her bone density’s just a smidge lower than I’d like to see it. Nothing dramatic, nothing concerning, and very possibly just a quirk of development or even a scanner misalignment. ::beat, watching her face:: But it pinged my radar enough that I ran a quick metabolic panel. Turns out her osteogenic markers are a bit sluggish – again, not worrying, just… a little out of rhythm with what we typically see at this stage.
He paused, choosing his next words like someone navigating a very polite minefield.
Bancroft: Now – like I said, this could be scanner drift. Or it could be a completely harmless variance. Or maybe she’s just rebelling early. ::smiling gently:: But… sometimes tiny flags are still flags. Anything in your own medical history – genetic, metabolic, mitochondrial – that might help me draw a clearer picture?
A deep ache reverberated inside of Sam. Suddenly the room felt cold as a heavy dose of loneliness surged through her.
She shut her eyes tightly for a moment, scouring her brain for something– anything– that might give a possible reason as to why there was something wrong with her daughter.
Richards: I uh, not that I can think of, I- ::the realization hit her like a ton of bricks:: This is my fault…
Her eyes settled on the doctor.
Roy worked hard not to furrow his brow. Clinically, he knew the truth: there was almost nothing she could have done to cause this. Sure, severe substance abuse could alter fetal development – snakeleaf came to mind – but Sam Richards was here. At a routine prenatal appointment. Clearly invested in the highest wellbeing for her unborn children.
People like that didn’t huff snakeleaf.
Bancroft: ::gently:: Sam, take a deep breath in through your nose for me. Hold it for a four-count. Now out through your mouth – long and easy. Now… tell me why you think this might be your fault.
Richards: It was uhm– Frontier Day. ::Looking at the floor.:: I punched a Borg drone and broke my hand. ::Closing her eyes as the memories flooded her.:: When they tried to fix my hand, it– it didn’t work. There was some kind of adverse reaction to the bone fixer thing and it had to heal on its own and it took a long time. Dr. Orrey found- ::shaking her head and gesturing wildly:: -something wrong with my bones.
She gave him a pleading look, unable to recall what exactly it was that Jansen told her, like somehow he would have all the answers.
Roy almost smiled. Almost. Not at her distress – but at the vindication.
Definitely not snakeleaf.
Bancroft: Whatever interesting quirks your bones may possess, Sam, I can promise you – none of them are the fault of a heroic right hook to a homicidal cyborg. And even if your daughter has inherited something – which, I’ll remind you, we aren’t even sure of yet – then that would be genetic. Not something you did. Not a punch thrown. Not a choice made.
Richards: What if she has the same problem I do? What’s that going to mean for her? I don’t understand… How did this happen?
Sam’s questions came out quickly and were full of heart ache.
Roy smiled. Not the placid, almost sanctimonious ‘there, there’ smile some doctors gave patients. His was genuine. Real. Warm.
Bancroft: Sam, breathe easy. First – and this part’s important – if your daughter has inherited this… she’s going to be okay. Just like you’re okay.
He bit his tongue to avoid adding, ‘depending on your definition of okay.”
Sam Richards was, medically speaking, almost entirely normal. In almost every other respect, she was an outlier. Not the dangerous kind. Just… delightfully complex.
Bancroft: Now, I don’t know yet what makes your physiology special – but I do know this: you’re here. Whole. Healthy. Whatever this anomaly is, it hasn’t stopped you from living a full life. We have every reason to believe your daughter can expect the exact same.
He was right. Unfortunately, while Sam knew that, it still felt like some kind of loss. It was her job as their mom to keep them safe and protected. If she couldn’t do that before they were even born, how did she expect to do it after?
Richards: It’s just– ::furrowing her brow:: – it’s not fair.
He tapped a quick note into his PADD, his fingers making a soft tik-tik-tik against the screen.
Bancroft: I’m also going to reach out to Dr. Orrey over at Amity. Just a little doctor-to-doctor, peer-reviewed chinwag. See if he can shed any additional light on what he found.
Richards: Yeah, ::nodding lightly:: okay.
Even though her words may have felt a bit hollow, she didn’t intend for them to be.
Bancroft: And even if he can’t, I say this with the least humility possible: I have extremely unreasonable faith in my medical mystery solving skills. And, of course, I’m not alone. We’ve got Dr. Sadar–
He caught himself and almost amended his statement, but as yet there hadn’t been a shipwide announcement about Lieutenant Sadar, and he didn’t feel it was his place to share that news.
Bancroft: –and a whole host of other brilliant physicians and scientists here on the Artemis.
Richards: But if what I have is something that hasn’t ever been seen before– ::feeling her frustrations rising:: What do we even do? What if hers is worse? When will we even know if she does have it? What if they both do?? I… I- hate this!
She folded her arms and let out a huff of air through her nose. Why was it, when it came to most things Sam knew herself to be a well rounded person. Confident, level headed and fairly logical. But when it came to her children, all of that went flying right out the airlock.
After a few moments, she finally let go of the sour look on her face and looked at Dr. Bancroft.
Richards: I’m sorry. I’m sure you are a very capable Doctor, as are the others on the Artemis. ::beat:: I assume it's going to take a while before you can give me an actual answer, won't it?
Roy frowned – just a flicker, barely there. He’d heard this sort of thing before. Dozens of times, in a dozen variations. It wasn’t meant as a slight. It was just fear, dressed up as doubt, knocking on the wrong door.
Bancroft: ::softly, with the faintest smile:: Sam, I’m not a very capable doctor. I’m an exceptional one. And I’m not saying that to pat myself on the back. We all are. ::a beat:: They don’t hand out stethoscopes and starship assignments to the merely “capable.” Not out here. Not on a ship like the Artemis. ::leaning an elbow casually against the biobed:: Medical science has an answer for every mystery. Maybe not immediately. Maybe not neatly. But we get there. That’s the job – and I will do it.
Richards: What can I do in the meantime? Is there even anything I can do?
She looked at him then – not as a scientist, not as a patient, but as someone hoping for something solid to hold onto.
Bancroft: Live. Nest. Put things on walls you’ll hate in five years. Argue about baby names. Look forward to the moment you get to hold those kids for the first time… and then every moment after that. First laugh. First steps. First time they throw oatmeal at you with genuine malice. ::a beat:: That’s the timeline I want you to think about.
Richards: ::Letting out a long sigh:: Okay. I understand. I don’t like it. But I understand.
He nearly reached out – just a hand on her shoulder, nothing dramatic. But he stopped himself. She didn’t need comfort. She needed certainty.
Bancroft: Sam, it’s my job to worry about this. And I’m not worried.
Slowly, Sam nodded. If the Doctor wasn’t worried she had no reason to be worried… Right?
END
Ensign Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1
&
Samantha Richards
Civilian Scientist
((OOC RANK: Lieutenant JG))
USS ARTEMIS-A
A240103SR3