First Person (entry type): Stardate 2258.04. Personal log entry of Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy. Just finished up another 36 hour shift. Chapel's on my ass again about actually resting. She and M'Benga teamed up to kick me out of medical for at least 10 hours of mandated rest. I'm doin' just fine, they didn't have to be so vocal about it or call Jim in. Damn it. Jim. Tomorrow's his goddamn birthday. No doubt, everyone would want to 'celebrate' with whatever crap Scotty's got boiling in engineering that he thinks no one knows about. I know about it, Scotty! If the goddamn stream of hungover ensigns I get every morning are any indicator! [sighs] Jim doesn't want to celebrate his birthday. Doesn't anyone get that? He prefers to just captain his goddamn ship or get to know whatever's moving past him instead of actually celebrating. Maybe I'll bring the bourbon over. Drink the day away like we did at the Academy. Because guess who's divorce was just a few days after? Luckily, Jo sent me a care package. At least, that's what I was told last time. So it should arrive any day. She's getting so big without me. Sometimes I wonder if she's just gonna forget all about me altogether one day. Ah, might as well get some sleep so Chapel can't accuse me of not following orders. McCoy out.
Third Person: Leave it to Jim to do this sort of thing. Bones moved quickly form biobed to biobed, diagnosing the worst of it before tapping furiously on his datapadd. "Damn it, Jim! What'd you do, piss off the Prime Minister down there?" he glared at the captain's bleeding smile and set about to gather supplies. "Chapel, I need 30 ccs of hydrobenzone for our captain and a sedative for Juarez in biobed 2!" he snapped. He barely heard the "Yes, doctor!" before he flit onto biobed three. "Shit." he cursed. Apparently, someone felt that their first officer would've been better with a gaping hole across his abdomen. Immediately, he picked up the surgery kit and began working at cleaning up the green mess before him and regenerating the skin back together. "I know this is gonna be hard for you, you green blooded hobgoblin, but you're gonna need to sit your ass still so I can make sure you're not gonna leave a green mess all over my sick bay." he snapped as he began to work diligently over the wound.
It was hours and several patched up lieutenants later when Bones collapsed in the chair in his office. Easy part was over. Now came his favorite task of filling out official Starfleet paperwork. He barely got through Jim's file before he saw the inside of his eyelids and dozed off.
Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy - Star Trek XI - 3/3
Stardate 2258.04. Personal log entry of Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy. Just finished up another 36 hour shift. Chapel's on my ass again about actually resting. She and M'Benga teamed up to kick me out of medical for at least 10 hours of mandated rest. I'm doin' just fine, they didn't have to be so vocal about it or call Jim in. Damn it. Jim. Tomorrow's his goddamn birthday. No doubt, everyone would want to 'celebrate' with whatever crap Scotty's got boiling in engineering that he thinks no one knows about. I know about it, Scotty! If the goddamn stream of hungover ensigns I get every morning are any indicator! [sighs] Jim doesn't want to celebrate his birthday. Doesn't anyone get that? He prefers to just captain his goddamn ship or get to know whatever's moving past him instead of actually celebrating. Maybe I'll bring the bourbon over. Drink the day away like we did at the Academy. Because guess who's divorce was just a few days after? Luckily, Jo sent me a care package. At least, that's what I was told last time. So it should arrive any day. She's getting so big without me. Sometimes I wonder if she's just gonna forget all about me altogether one day. Ah, might as well get some sleep so Chapel can't accuse me of not following orders. McCoy out.
Third Person:
Leave it to Jim to do this sort of thing. Bones moved quickly form biobed to biobed, diagnosing the worst of it before tapping furiously on his datapadd. "Damn it, Jim! What'd you do, piss off the Prime Minister down there?" he glared at the captain's bleeding smile and set about to gather supplies. "Chapel, I need 30 ccs of hydrobenzone for our captain and a sedative for Juarez in biobed 2!" he snapped. He barely heard the "Yes, doctor!" before he flit onto biobed three. "Shit." he cursed. Apparently, someone felt that their first officer would've been better with a gaping hole across his abdomen. Immediately, he picked up the surgery kit and began working at cleaning up the green mess before him and regenerating the skin back together. "I know this is gonna be hard for you, you green blooded hobgoblin, but you're gonna need to sit your ass still so I can make sure you're not gonna leave a green mess all over my sick bay." he snapped as he began to work diligently over the wound.
It was hours and several patched up lieutenants later when Bones collapsed in the chair in his office. Easy part was over. Now came his favorite task of filling out official Starfleet paperwork. He barely got through Jim's file before he saw the inside of his eyelids and dozed off.