(no subject)
Characters: Martha Jones...and you!
Location: The makeshift clinic, somewhere on the first floor, next to the morgue/autopsy lab.
Time Period: Modern
Rating: PG? PG-13?
Date: Threads ranging throughout the plague, depending whenever the characters drop in.
Status: Open, of course!
(Sorry it took me so long to post this - LJ fail + computer fail = general Megan fail.)
Martha was worried. This might have been an understatement, given the situation, as mysterious contagious diseases with a high mortality rate in a castle with rudimentary medical technology were typically, well, sort of bad. (Also an understatement.) She'd been trained in biohazard quarantine protocol, of course, but all her training involved having the proper materials. To be honest, she wasn't even sure it would help, trying to keep the diseased away from the healthy - but gathering them all in one place at least meant it would be easier to care for them.
Though some miracle or another, she'd managed to locate a number of folding cots and had set them up in the parlors she had commandeered, pushing the original furniture out of the way. They were all covered in clean white sheets - another miracle of the castle, and Martha wasn't sure where she'd get more, or how the beds would get changed regularly, or all the other things that a hospital's staff normally took care of. She was, after all, only one person - and she didn't want to ask for volunteers to assist with such tasks, because then they'd be exposed, too.
Still, it would definitely help to see which of the other doctors were still up and about, she decided - so while she was waiting for her patients to arrive, she left a message using the mobiles.
Location: The makeshift clinic, somewhere on the first floor, next to the morgue/autopsy lab.
Time Period: Modern
Rating: PG? PG-13?
Date: Threads ranging throughout the plague, depending whenever the characters drop in.
Status: Open, of course!
(Sorry it took me so long to post this - LJ fail + computer fail = general Megan fail.)
Martha was worried. This might have been an understatement, given the situation, as mysterious contagious diseases with a high mortality rate in a castle with rudimentary medical technology were typically, well, sort of bad. (Also an understatement.) She'd been trained in biohazard quarantine protocol, of course, but all her training involved having the proper materials. To be honest, she wasn't even sure it would help, trying to keep the diseased away from the healthy - but gathering them all in one place at least meant it would be easier to care for them.
Though some miracle or another, she'd managed to locate a number of folding cots and had set them up in the parlors she had commandeered, pushing the original furniture out of the way. They were all covered in clean white sheets - another miracle of the castle, and Martha wasn't sure where she'd get more, or how the beds would get changed regularly, or all the other things that a hospital's staff normally took care of. She was, after all, only one person - and she didn't want to ask for volunteers to assist with such tasks, because then they'd be exposed, too.
Still, it would definitely help to see which of the other doctors were still up and about, she decided - so while she was waiting for her patients to arrive, she left a message using the mobiles.