Lt Alex Storm - Chocolate is Not-a-Problem
Karen Morris
(( Primary Sickbay - Deck 7, USS Artemis-A ))
Alex felt in good spirits. Things were going well. She was getting her physical out of the way early…no persistent fussy reminders that she still needed to report in for her physical. On top of that, Doctor Bancroft seemed to indicate that she was in good health. AND she was enjoying the music that her head had decided to inundate her with. It was a better day than she expected, so with a sassy grin, she asked…
Storm: So what’s the diagnosis, Doc? Do I need to start eating more greasy fried foods? Oh….I know what it is. You’re going to prescribe chocolate, right? I mean…I might be able to do that if I tried really, really hard.
Bancroft: ::raising an eyebrow:: Actually, Lieutenant, you’re not terribly far off there. You are in pristine health…
Alex felt the “but” before he even finished speaking. Her toes stopped tapping, and she looked at him with all of the seriousness of a hornet searching for its easiest target.
Storm: But…::She drew the word out.::
Bancroft: ::swiveling the console to face her:: But, your cortisol – that’s your primary stress hormone – is riding a little high. ::a beat, more gently:: Nothing to lose sleep over, unless you already are…
Her counselor aboard the Scimitar had insinuated that if she didn’t get things under control that it could cause her physical issues. Apparently, not only was she right, but it was starting sooner than Alex had planned on.
But her eyes were focused on Bancroft’s blue eyes. She could tell he wanted to ask, but he seemed to understand that some personal things weren’t just spread around indiscriminately. And while she could sense his genuine concern, how was she to know if he was this genuinely concerned about all his patients, and maybe he spoke in his sleep and would blab anything to his partner - if he had one.
Her mouth wanted to clamp shut like an oyster hiding its precious pearl, but while she couldn’t bring herself to speak, maybe some little part inside her wanted to. Wanted to talk to a sympathetic ear, but just then she caught a little movement in her periphery - just a med tech moving some equipment - and her mouth closed of its own accord while she tried to formulate a plausible-sounding answer…It slipped off her tongue as easy as a toddler sprawling across a skating rink.
Storm: No. I’m sleeping just fine. Thanks for asking, though. But what can I try to do to nudge those numbers in the right direction? Somehow, I’m not sure they’ll listen to a lecture.
Bancroft: ::half smile:: My advice? Keep up that exercise routine, but don’t treat your workouts like a battle drill. Push too hard and those hormone spikes will work against you. It’s all about balance, Lieutenant. Don’t try to out-sweat the galaxy… and have a little chocolate from time to time.
Storm: Chocolate? Oh, chocolate is not-a-problem. The rest, that may be harder.
Alex watched as he typed some notes out onto his PADD. A tiny part of her was sad that she didn’t take a chance. But, instead, she chided herself for even considering it. Chances never seemed to break in her favor. It was better to keep her issues to herself.
Bancroft: You’ll get my full report in your personal file shortly. And I’d like to see you again in a few months – check the numbers, make sure you’re still the Artemis’ gold standard for healthy officers. ::softer, with a knowing glance:: And to ensure that whatever’s setting your system on edge has started to ease off. In the meantime, remember, chocolate is an official prescription… and Starfleet Medical takes cocoa compliance very seriously.
Those words - the softer words - the words laced with care like tea laced with arsenic - a deadly combination - beckoned to her. One person. One sympathetic ear. But as she slipped off the biobed, like a balloon that burst, the spell broke, and she found herself saying...
Storm: Thanks, Doc. I’ll check in in a few months so we can keep an eye on things.
~*~
Fin
~*~
Lt Alex Storm
Tactical Officer
USS Artemis
O240103SK2