"Your body experienced a full overload to its sensory and motor nervous system."
What was that glorified veterinarian saying? It was all very well for Carson to stand there and pontificate. I was the one lying here paralyzed! I opened my mouth to remind him that I wasn't deaf, but all that emerged was, "AAHHWAAH!" Just great.
"You took one of those wraith stunners right in the face." And there was Sheppard, trying but failing to be helpful.
"It's really quite fascinating actually; the wraith weapon impedes a fire of neurons that enables the necessary..."
Hello? Remember me? Frozen scientist here! "OHHHHAAA!" Yeah, that sounded intelligent, all right. But at least it reminded Dr. Kildare that he had a patient to deal with.
"The paralysis is only temporary. Don't worry, Rodney. You'll be up and about in no time." Then he spoiled the caring moment by snickering. "Bloody good thing that wraith weapon is only designed to incapacitate, or he'd be dead."
Fine. I'm sorry I compared medicine to voodoo. Happy now? Wait a minute, where were they going? You guys can't just leave me like this! There's the little fact that I CAN'T FUCKING MOVE! "Allo? Allloooo!"
Nothing. Those traitors have left me alone. Oh well, how bad can it be? I'll just lie here and stare at the ceiling. Maybe I'll count the tiles. One, two, three... Should that cracked tile be three and a half, or four? They just don't make tiles like they used to. These should have easily been able to last ten thousand years.
Hey, was that my toe twitching? No, just my imagination. Now I'm officially bored. I think I'm going into sensory deprivation. Nothing to see but ceiling, nothing to hear except that annoying heart monitor. I think I'd even welcome a visit from Kavanaugh right now. At least I could gather data for my study of human stupidity.
Uh-oh. Now I think the stunner is starting to wear off. Unfortunately, the first thing I can feel is my nose itching. Okay, I just need to remain calm. There's no need to get excited, it's just a little itch. I can ignore it. Think about something else. Oh, crap.
"AAHHH!" Is it just me, or did I say that already?
Carson's head popped into my field of vision. "What's wrong now, Rodney?" he asked impatiently. Nice physician empathy there, Carson. He picked up a reflex hammer and tapped where I presumed my knees to be. I still didn't feel anything there, but something obviously happened because he smiled and said, "It's definitely wearing off, lad. You'll be waving your arms about like a loon again very shortly." Then he patted me on the shoulder.
I wanted to bite his hand.
And as he walked away, whistling the "Colonel Bogey March," my nose starts to itch again.
I'm starting to go nuts here. How long is this going to take? I need to be in the jumper bay soon, run some diagnostics with the little Czech guy. What the hell is his name anyway? I can never remember it. Zalorka? Jalenka?
I can't deny that he knows his stuff. He's not as good as me, of course, but you can't hold that against him. Few people are.
Oh, look. Sergeant Bates just walked into the infirmary. My favorite person. Ugly as a bulldog and not quite as clever. What could he possibly be here for? A rabies shot? A personality transplant?
He's talking to Carson now. Could the Athosians have done what? Hidden Wraith transmitters where? Oh, God, I did NOT just need that image of Bates ordering body cavity searches of the Athosians. Bad brain!
I think I really am losing it now.
Finally. It only took forever, but I can now move and talk again. I still have a hard time feeling my extremities, but who cares about little details like that? Now I can change out of these ridiculous-looking scrubs and get out of here. Why the hell do we have red scrubs, anyway? To distinguish the inmates from the keepers?
And there's Carson, right on cue.
"What are you doing out of bed, Rodney? You need to be monitored for at least another hour or so."
Yeah, right. "You know, Carson, that's a good idea. Let me just lie down motionless on the bed again so you can observe me after I've been lying motionless on the bed!"
He muttered something unintelligible but lethal-sounding under his breath.
"Thanks for your hospitality, but I think I'm just going to mosey on out of here now. And who did you practice your bedside manner on, anyway. Sheep?" Oops. As he turned bright red, I realized that statement didn't come out quite right.
As I left the infirmary, I saw that the good doctor was actually speechless. Hmm. Maybe that statement came out okay after all...