Chapter 15
Making a lifelong commitment to a partner or partners is a big decision and not one to be taken lightly.
That said, as the saying goes, when you know, you know!
You and your life partner are undoubtedly over the moon right about now, but there are some serious matters you’ll need to discuss.
While this might be obvious, a refresher never hurts.
Here are some of the key topics to cover early on to make sure there aren’t any oppositional expectations or preferences that could engender major problems later.
First, you’ll want to discuss the essential question: to cohabit, or not to cohabit.
Not all partners want to share the same living space.
In some cultures, it simply isn’t done, while in others it’s a fundamental expectation.
Don’t skip this one! Second, you should address the matter of offspring.
Do you want any or not? If you do want them, who would give birth to any children—you, your partner, or perhaps a surrogate?
Alternatively, would you prefer to adopt offspring?
This is a weighty issue, indeed, and one that can derail many a relationship if both partners aren’t of the same mind.
Third, it is advisable to discuss money matters in advance.
How will expenses be paid, shared, etc. Will you maintain separate financial accounts or merge them?
Do either of you bring debt to the relationship?
These are but a few key financial considerations you should ponder together as a couple.
There are plenty of other issues to discuss, but for now, these are pretty high on the priority list. So go ahead and get talking!
Gemma
My medical responder instincts kick in immediately, and I find myself racing toward the emergency situation without thinking about it. I suppose this kind of thing is hardwired in me by now, enough so that I don’t even notice the clear ground beneath my feet as I race toward whoever needs help.
I push my way through a crowd of people to find an older female-presenting alien and an accompanying child on the ground.
The former is cradling the juvenile in her arms, lines of stress marring her pale blue face.
I have no idea what species they belong to, but they’re fairly humanoid in their overall external physiology as far as I can tell.
The two most pronounced differences are their skin, which is bioluminescent, and the two pronounced antennae coming out of their foreheads.
I’m not sure if I’ll be able to help them, but at the very least I can try to stabilize the child while we wait for park staff to come to the rescue.
I fall to my knees beside the young alien. If they were human, I’d guess they were maybe around eight to ten years old, but I can’t be certain. What is immediately apparent to me, however, is that their blue skin is losing its bioluminescent glow, dimming rapidly even as I watch.
“What happened?” I ask the older woman. “I’m a medical doctor from Earth. I’ll do whatever I can until the park’s medical support arrives.”
Relief washes over her face. “I’m Elunara Jynthar, and this is my granddaughter, Phyrellia. Although she prefers to go by Phee.” Tears run down her cheeks. “Phee suddenly collapsed out of nowhere, and her glow began fading at the same time.”
My brow furrows. “What does that mean for your people? Can you explain?”
Her face showing the universal signs of anxiety, Elunara wipes her eyes. “It’s usually a sign of a problem with our circulatory stability, but I can’t imagine what would have caused that. Phee was perfectly healthy earlier as far as I could tell. There was no hint of any issues at all.”
“May I examine her?” I ask.
I have to do something so she doesn’t crash on me.
Elunara nods so I begin assessing Phee’s ABCs—-airway, breathing, and circulation.
Opening her mouth, I see that her airway doesn’t appear to be blocked, but her breathing is a little shallow, and her pulse is all over the place.
I ask Elunara what a normal baseline for breathing and pulse would be among her people and find my initial assessment about the abnormalities in Phee’s breathing and pulse are indeed accurate—but I still have no idea what’s causing the issue.
It’s also incredibly frustrating not having any of my equipment with me. What I wouldn’t give for my medical bag right about now!
Trying to rule out some potential root causes, I gently rest a hand against Phee’s forehead and test for any signs of fever that might indicate a viral illness or infection, but her skin isn’t hot. On the contrary, it’s almost cool to the touch, whatever that means for her kind.
I turn to Elunara. “What can you tell me about body temperature for your people?”
“We are Zidalis, and our species tends to run warmer than most. Phee’s temperature is concerning. As her bioluminescence fades, her body will continue to cool until organs start to shut down.” She chokes back a sob. “Please help her.”
The danger meter for Phee has kicked up a notch.
“Does anyone have a jacket or makeshift blanket?” I call out to the crowd of onlookers.
Someone passes me a large shawl that I use to cover Phee.
Turning my attention back to Elunara, I ask, “Can you start warming your hands? Press them against your own skin, preferably under your shirt, against your chest or belly or wherever you have a greater degree of body heat. Once they’re suitably warm, I want you to place them on Phee’s torso, under her clothes if possible, to help try to warm her core.
Getting her warm is essential. While you’re doing that, I’m going to press my ear against Phee’s chest and try to listen to her heartbeat to the best of my ability. ”
Elunara follows my instructions, and those who have crowded around us go silent.
They all disappear from my vision as I focus all my attention on Phee, placing my ear over where I believe her heart is, if her organ placement is like a human’s, and cupping my hand around it.
She seems far too young to have had a stroke or heart attack, but if she’s experiencing circulatory problems, it could mean some other kind of undiagnosed heart problem.
I’ve always had impeccable hearing, but I have to strain to listen. My method isn’t great, but I manage to hear enough to come up with a possible answer to what’s happening, but I need more info. Pulling back, I focus on Elunara.
“What’s considered normal for your species’ heart rate, as in beats per minute. Or even rhythm?”
After all, it could be different from humans.
She gives me a quick rundown, and I realize my initial assessment is probably right—or really damn close.
“Like I said, I don’t have appropriate equipment to officially diagnose. However, it sounds to me like your granddaughter may have a heart arrhythmia that could very likely be congenital.”
Her eyes widen. “Phee’s had no symptoms of such a problem until now, and her scans when she started school were normal.”
“Again, I don’t know all the details of Zidali biology, but it’s quite possible that the arrhythmia has been lying dormant until now.
I can’t say for sure how or what triggered it to suddenly start acting up, but time is of the essence.
I would like your permission to perform CPR until the park’s medical staff arrive. ”
“What is CPR, and would it help?”
“CPR is a form of manual chest compressions accompanied by mouth-to-mouth breathing that is used to help keep the heart pumping blood in cases of a heart attack or other cardiovascular problems. It’s recommended for an arrhythmia episode until other interventions can be implemented.”
Elunara studies me for a tense moment and then nods her head. “Do it.”
I don’t think, I simply act. At this point, I’m half convinced that I could perform CPR in my sleep.
It’s almost automatic for me as I push hard and fast on Phee’s chest to the beat of the Bee Gees’ “Staying Alive” in my head—it was one of Nana’s favorites.
After I’ve reached roughly one hundred, I tilt her head back and give her mouth-to-mouth.
Once I see her chest has fully risen, I begin the compressions again, then repeat the process with a dogged determination.
I only come out of my zone when Elunara gently clasps my arm. “They’re here.”
Blinking, I finally notice two uniformed medical responders.
One carries a portable case, and a mechanized stretcher hovers in the air between them.
I move away from Phee while one of them pulls out what appears to be a portable version of the biometric scanner we have on the ship to examine her.
I hurriedly explain the examination I performed and what I suspect is the underlying cause of Phee’s symptoms to the other responder, an orange-hued individual with a bird-like head, complete with feathers and a full-on beak.
The first responder finishes his scan, then glances at me with an obvious look of professional respect. “Your diagnosis was spot on. It appears to be a heart arrhythmia that has gone undiagnosed but has most likely been there since birth.”
I nod. “It’s one of many probable causes for these symptoms, but listening to her heartbeat confirmed it.”
My new bird-like friend pulls out what appears to be a much more advanced version of a portable defibrillator. “Whatever move you were performing on her seems to have helped a bit, but we still need to get her heart rhythm stabilized.”
In total agreement, I step back as they attach an unusual-looking pad with an electrode to her chest. In short order, the defibrillator shocks Phee’s body, and the bird-like responder uses the biometric scanner to assess how the girl is doing.
“Her heart rhythm has stabilized.” He gets to his feet and reaches out a feathery hand, which I shake. “Good work. She’s going to be fine now. We’ll take it from here.”
The crowd around us starts cheering and clapping while the two responders, wasting no time, swiftly load Phee onto their hover stretcher—so damn cool—and prepare to take her back to their medical bay.
Even as I watch, I notice that Phee’s skin starts to glow brighter and healthier, and I heave a sigh of relief. Her grandmother hurries to me and clasps my hand in hers.
“Thank you so much for your help. If you hadn’t been here, I don’t know what might have happened. You saved Phee’s life.”
“I helped a little. Thankfully, the park’s medical responders arrived quickly and now it looks like your granddaughter will be okay.”
Elunara reaches into what appears to be some type of handbag and takes out a small, brooch-like object, placing it in my hand. “Please keep this transmitter token so I can properly thank you at another time.”
“Oh, that’s not nece—,” I start to say, but she ignores me and hurries to follow the responders booking it back to the park’s medical bay.
Dazed and a bit confused after all that’s happened, I’m not terribly aware of my surroundings, so I’m nearly knocked over when Luna slams into me, wrapping her arms and all eight of her tentacles around me.
“Whoa!” I squeak out, barely managing to keep the token safe.
“Holy fucking galactic gods, you were so awesome! I can’t believe I got to watch you in action. It was epic and ridiculously hot.”
I flush with embarrassment. “I didn’t do all that much.”
“The hell you say. You were a real hero. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
I try to protest, but Luna pulls back and cups my face in both of her hands, her tentacles still holding me tight.
“You were the hero of the hour. Even better than that Xena Warrior Princess, I bet. You kept that poor girl alive until the on-site medical personnel could get to her. What you did played a critical role and I won’t hear otherwise.
” She punctuates the last words with a defiant tilt of her chin.
Unexpectedly, my vision blurs as tears fill my eyes. The whole experience gave me a metaphysical smack upside the head and made me realize that helping people and saving lives is truly my calling. I don’t want to give it up.
However, I have no clue how I’m going to make my passion a reality going forward.
Fortunately, I was able to use my training and knowledge from Earth to assess this particular patient successfully, but that wouldn’t be the case with all the species I could encounter, especially any that are far less humanoid in their physical makeup. I got seriously lucky this time out.
And even if I had the knowledge, how would I go about helping? It’s not as if I can join a hospital or set up a clinic on a space station or a planet when we’re basically on an intergalactic space RV, living the cosmic nomad life.
“Are you all right?” Luna asks, worry written all over her expressive face.
I sniffle and chuckle. “Yeah. I think part of my emotional response is due to coming down from the adrenaline rush and part is due to the fact that I’ve figured out I want to continue using my medical expertise to save lives.
But my training on Earth is nowhere near enough to treat the diverse range of extraterrestrial species we’ll encounter.
So I’m not sure yet how I’ll be able to keep doing what I love, especially while part of the crew of the Sleigh Belle. ”
Luna pulls me close again and murmurs softly in my ear. “We’ll figure it out together, I promise. I’m no bozo. I saw how you shine brighter than a supernova when you’re in your element as a doctor. That isn’t something I want you to give up. And as they say, where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
Smiling, I bury my face in her neck, my heart doing a happy tap dance in my chest. For the love of Xena, this tentacled woman is so damn precious to me.
No one has ever gotten me the way Luna does so naturally.
Her enthusiastic, committed support of my life’s passion gives me renewed strength and optimism about the future.
“You’re the fucking best,” I mumble into the side of her neck, which is now wet with my tears. “I hope you know that.”
Her tentacles rub my back while her arms wrap around my neck. “Don’t worry, I’ve never been in doubt of that, my darling.”
The crowd around us has dispersed by the time we emerge from our cuddle cocoon, and Luna gently leads me back to the entrance of the skyway.
“Sorry our romantic date turned into an unexpected medical rescue,” I say.
“Dr. Taylor, I’m so fucking proud of you and thrilled to call you my girlfriend. Saving a life trumps a date any day. Besides, we’ll have plenty more opportunities. I plan to bust out all my Love Master Luna moves with you.”
I try not to get all choked up. “Bring it on. I can’t wait.”
My love life is the best it’s ever been and I know what I want on a professional level.
I simply need to figure out a few pesky details.