Stitches | Poe Dameron

ii

After I got a few nurses to quickly put him on the table, I shooed them out for giggling too much at the unconscious pilot. Unprofessional behaviour like that was not something I wanted to deal with, but shock affects people differently. Regardless, his arm is inside out, and no one wants a dead man on their table.

I quickly hook him up to the heart monitor, IVs, air mask, place on my own mask and get to work.

The most damage was on his triceps and up near his left shoulder around the deltoid muscle, ripping it. The gash also ran partly down to his thoracic, and also towards his forearms.

The first thing I needed to do was cut the top half of his clothes off for better access. After I would start the repairs.

~*~

A full 6 hours later I had finished stitching the pilot. The only thing left to do was clean the blood. I could have gotten one of the helping nurses to do it for me, but instead I did it myself. I applied little pressure as I cleaned the new and dry blood. All the stitching that I had to do made him look like Frankenstein, but I thought it was a beautifully done job. Along with his arm I also needed to do a few above his right eyebrow.

Now that I had finally finished I took a step back to fully comprehend the impact. If this man's arm moves too much it could rip the stitches and his muscle. He was not allowed to move anymore than what I say is allowed.

After nearly 6 and a half hours in my room I washed my hands and walked outside, not expecting to be greeted by a person and a droid.

General Organa and the droid looked at me.

"Hello." I said, "I fixed him, but you are not allowed to touch him what so ever."

I allow the two to enter my now stuffy surgery room and I sit down in my chair with a pen and paper, documenting the patient.

"Oh my, look at him." The General immediately moves towards the strapped down arm.

"No touching!" I remind her and she jumps. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but too much movement can cause his triceps to rip more and his deltoid to rip completely in two." I say and place my pen down to my paper.

The General nods in understanding.

"So what's my commander going to do?" She speaks.

I think for a second.

"It'll be about a week before he can move his arm, so he'll stay in here for a couple days before it's safe to move him onto a bed and put him in recovery for another three weeks. After that it's physiotherapy for a couple weeks, then he can get back to work slowly." I inform the General.

She nods slowly again, taking in the information.

"How come I've never met you before?" The General asks.

"You have ma'am, but it was about a year ago, right before I became a specialist."

"Ahh," she snapped her fingers. "You're the one who patched up Admiral Akbar."

I nod and smile, feeling good that General Organa remembers me.

I get back down to writing as the General leaves, and I'm left alone, or so I thought.

I get a small nudge against my shin. Looking down I notice that it's the BB droid.

They beep.

"Oh, he's your friend." I say and look towards the man on my table.

The droid beeps again.

"Yes, of course he'll be alright, he's just going to be sleeping for about another day."

Buzz. Buzz.

I press the button on the intercom, only to hear Esma's voice.

"Hey, Stitches, if you're done with the pilot. We need someone stitched up-" I hear an alien dialect in the background, "-pretty urgently."

"On my way." I say and stand up.

I walk outside my room and let BB-8 out, lock the door, and then start walking down the hall. As I walk I notice the whirring of the droid following me.

"BB-8," I say as I continue down the hall. "I need to do some serious stuff right now."

The droid lets out a series of beeps.

"Well, yea, I guess you have nothing to do."

More beeps.

"Fine, fine, fine, you can help me, just be very careful and only do what I say."

They beep happily.

~*~

"BB-8, pass me the scissors."

The little droid rushed towards me with a platter of tools, I turned my eyes away from the torso to retrieve the object.

"Thank you very much BB-8," I say as I finish. "You're a very good helper."

BB-8 beeps happily as the helping nurses walk in the room and we exit.

"Now, I would suggest you go back to... what you normally do, thank you for all your help." I smile, kneel and pat the droid affectionately.

BB-8 whirrs loudly, I get confused and rock back on my heels. Its head starts spinning and a bit of smoke releases from somewhere inside him.

"Woah, BB-8," I say and stand up. "You're over heating."

After a few seconds the droid calms down, no more smoke. It looks up and me and I smile down at it.

It beeps a goodbye and heads out of the ward.

I smile again before heading back to my surgery room to check up on the pilot.