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Jack O'Neill - Clinic Hours - Tuesday, October 25th

Jack comes in and sets up his things, homework, radio, mini-tv, and a few notebooks. He was hoping to have a slow night and be able to get some homework done before tomorrow. And to avoid Cuddy like the plague.

Jack clicked on the radio and cracked open a book.

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"Not yet. I've heard that if you wait that long, you're already hosed. It just happened this weekend, and I don't want to wait too late. And the head may still be in there. I just taped it up when I woke up. I can't really see it."

"Come on in the back. I'll check it out and make sure. Do you have any idea how long the tick might have been on you?"

The general rule of thumb being, if more than thirty-six hours, a course of antibiotics. If less, no medication dispensed. Wilson hated giving antibiotics out as if they were some sort of aspirin, though he could understand the young man's concern.

"I'd say 36 hours, then. I'm not sure. I'm not taking any chances though. I don't care if it's overkill, I'll still take the 2 weeks of meds versus lifelong sickness, ya know?"

Oh but he hated when patients did that. Demanded a script he was already on the brink of giving. He never liked to get the idea started that the patients could medicate themselves but 36 hours was 36 hours so he simply rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and made a mental note to mark John's chart.

"Okay, let's make sure the head isn't still embeded and then I'll script you out amoxicillian."

"Sure. Sorry to be an ass, but I've seen this happen before. I mean, I'll suffer through colds med-free like no one's business, but this ain't just a runny nose or stomach flu."

John pulled his shirt off, resisting the urge to scratch his shoulder.

There is a swatch of duct tape across his shoulder blade.

Wilson chuckled goodnaturedly.

"I can understand the thought process and I'm too tired to go into the 'resistance to antibiotics' lecture right now. Am I going to find the whole tick under here?"

Figured it would be better to ask rather then surprise himself because honestly? Wilson hated...as in had a HUGE phobia about ticks. Worse then snakes. Something about their slow moving creepy little legs or their over bloated bodies and have you ever seen their little heads up close in a neutron microscope? The aliens in Alien look cuter.

"Honestly, I have no clue. I saw one on my blanket, but I don't know if it was the same one. I was less than sober and the thing got away. I put the duct on just to be safe. Been afraid to look at it."

Wilson swallowed and went to get rubber gloves a pair of tweezers and a matchbook.

"Okay...this might sting when I take the tape off."

Might? It was duct tape and he had to peel it slowly just in case....

Yep, there was the little black bastard.

"Yeah, all right. Hold still and let me get him."

A swab of alcohol to annoy the tick -not The Tick who is cute- and then a quick yank and Wilson felt the urge to be sick as those slow moving little legs wove in the air at him.

But here came the fun part...frying the tick.

"Tick flambae."

John winced as the tape peeled back. "Damn."

He tensed, waiting for the worst.

Checking the tick to assure himself that he got the head, Wilson lit the critter up, listening to it pop with a nod.

"Okay, one dead tick. Let's get this clean and then script you on out."

His movements where deft and economical as he peeled back the rest of the tape and then cleaned the whole area with alcohol, which should also help with the sticky residue from the tape.

Finished, he moved to the counter and dug out a script pad, writing up the antibiotics and then moving to hand it to John.

"There you go. This should cover all the bases but if you notice any muscles aches or a rash in the area, come back in immediately."

"Will do. Thanks Doc." He swung his arm around experimentally.

"Should I put a bandage on this or just let it air out?"

"Just let it air out. Keep it clean, maybe swab the bite area with hydrogen peroxide if you have some but if not, soap and water will work also."

"Thanks. Sorry to be a hardcase, but... y'know."
John put his shirt back on and prepared to leave.

Wilson made a note in the file, then turned and smiled at John.

"It's all right but...do me a favor and don't imagine that we're just here to write prescriptions as you dictate them, okay?"

"Hey, no prob. I hate meds. I hate being dependant on something external to my body, but I hate it more that there's something that could eat away at me from within. Not my bag, Doc. I've just heard the stories where tickbites are ignored until it's too late. I ain't waiting for the bullseye mark."

John stopped at the door on the way out and gave a gesture that was halfway between a salute and a wave.

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Jack O'Neill - Clinic Hours - Tuesday, October 25th

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