Sirens screaming, the small hospitals one and only ambulance pulled into the circle drive, the EMS personnel calmly but swiftly pulling the guerny out of the ambulance. The confusion and noise was intense, with one EMS at the head of it, working a manual respirator, and the other two attempting to hold the seizing boy so that he would not fall off of the guerny.

Freya was also running alongside, carrying two plastic bags: the two pads that Rayna has used on her son. One was soaked in alcohol, one in iodine, but there had to be something else in them to make Conan have seizures. She had brought them along so that the lab team could test them and figure out what it was that was causing Conan's reactions.

With the precise efficiency of experienced medical proffessionals, they began to wheel the guerny inside, calling to anyone in the general vicinity. Conan was not, at the moment, able to breathe on his own, and his temperature was rising rapidly, not to mention the constant serizures, lasting for minutes at a time. He needed help, and fast.

Soon enough, a few more people were on the scene. One headed to where Freya was, while two others went to assist Conan and get everything ready for him.
The single human stopped by Freya, and began speaking, "Are these the causes?" she asked, ready to take anything that could help them figure out what was going on.

Freya's eyes were still the mirrored ones she always displayed, not showing any concern as the doctor approached her, though she certainly felt it. She was... just not keen on letting anyone know it. Instead, she nodding, and dropped into doctor lingo. Yes. Iodine and alchol, obviously one or both mixed with an abrasive compound to produce the allergic reaction. He also has four bullet wounds, three across the chest and one that peirced the left lung before passing through the body cavity. I provided feild treatment for the lung, and I've applied a simple skin grafting to cover. So the most urgent problem is the allergic reaction, though you might want to look at the wounds once he's stable.

At length, Conan's current seizure ended, and his body flopped limply back against the bed, and the EMT's moved away, stretching and rubbing sore muscles. Now it would be the job of the ER staff to save Conan.

She listened intently as Freya spoke, with a handy clipboard positioned on her arm as she wrote down some things with the free hand. She figured she would need all of this info, of course, so once she had it all down, she gave a brief nod and reached out to retrieve the pads from Freya. Once she had them, she placed her clipboard under her arm and carried the pads easily, pinching them with her fingers. "You can just wait here, till things are done," she spoke then, turning to walk off to tend to this new business.
By then, as she walked back into a room quick speedily, she was joined by her two 'helpers' whom had since helped to get Conan ready. Back in that room, the tests were quickly begun, and one more docter was seen leaving the room.

Waiting wasn't one of her strong suits. When you've found out what's in those pads, please... let me know. She had a hunch... and if she was right, then Rayna ought to be glad she was dead. Because that was illegal...

She did not sit, but stood leaning on her staff, rubbing a bit at her eyes. Now that Conan was being taken care of, it was okay for her to be tired. Slowly her eyes closed, and it looked as if she might be asleep... but her mind was whirring.

It couldn't be tri-cyclen, because that was only a sugar-tylenol compound, and the boy wasn't allergic to tylenol. Klonopin might cause the seizing, but it was too hard to get, and wouldn't be readily available to Rayna Carlyle, who had no reason to need it. Finally, a light switched on in her brain, and she turned to the nurse at the desk. Tell them to run a scan-test for microbial phenoprine. It's high enough in neuro-toxins that it could cause the seizures, but odorless, and even swiping it on the wounds with those pads would be enough to cause the reaction.

Meanwhile, Conan was not really improving. The bluish tint to his gums and lips told the frightening tale that not enough oxygen was getting into his system. He still was not breathing on his own, but the hand-pumped respirator was only doing so much. If the oxygen level got any lower, his brain cells would start to die, which could do anything from causing a mild, temporary slur in his speech to causing permanent, crippling paralysis... IF he lived at all.

In the back room, tests were still being done, and so far nothing had come up. Yet. A few glances were being exchanged between the few people there, wondering what had caused the reaction. It wasn't until one noticed something unusual from one of the tests, and they studdied it intently. Just maybe...

The nurse at the desk looked up as Freya started talking to her, and once she was finished, the girl gave a nod and turned away, heading back for only a moment to relay what Freya had told her. Then, as if there was no time laps, she returned to her position at the desk and worked on some papers.

Back in the room, just what Freya had spoken of came up. As if by luck, the cause showed up. Hurrying out of the room, she headed to Freya. "I believe it's exactly what you spoke of, and it doesn't appear good," she stated.
Since then, someone had begun giving Conan some necessary fluids for the fever, and also a few other things that may help with the problem. Soon enough, they figured he'de be stable.

Even though the news that the doctor brought back was not good, she let out a sigh of relief. Now that they knew what had caused the reaction, they could treat it. Now that she was done thinking, she finally sat, praying silently under her breath. Trader and Bookkeeper... keep the wanderer's eye on him. The boy has done no wrong, his parents have done all the harm. Balance the books, close the door, light the candle.

Slowly, slowly... he began to improve. Whether it was the fluids, or the prayer, or the two working as one, the fever began to drop, though it still remained too high to be considered normal. The bluish look also began to subside, and though he was still not breathing on his own, the oxygen they were providing was now coursing through him, restoring lost energy to the cells that needed it. It would be some time before it could be determined whether or not the low oxygen level had effected him... but for now, he was stable, if not very well in a general sense.

The docter gave her a nod. "He should be doing pretty well... In just a few moments." she then stated, giving one last nod before turning to walk off again.
Off where Conan was, fluids were still being given to him, ones that would help the aspects of what had gone wrong. Soon enough, he would probably be fine from the fluids.

Freya returned the doctor's nod, wishing she could see what was going on in the room, but knowing that, not being a "certified physician", it was against the hospital's policy for her to be present. So she contented herself with pacing the floor.

And things were still getting better. After a few moments with the respirator, the oxygen level on the charts settled at a normal rate, indicating that he was now stable enough to be moved. All that could be done now was to wait.

The docter had sent off a couple of the nurses to get Conan settled into a room then, once everything was finished and he was stable enough. Soon they appeared and both went on opposite sides, easily carting him off into the nearest open room. There, they got him settled in, and quietly left the room.

Freya followed the procession of nurses, looking over a tall man's shoulder to examine Conan with a critical eye. What she saw pleased her: the seizing had stopped, for the moment, and his coloring was much better. Though he was still getting oxygen from the respirator, he was still in much better shape than he had been when she'd brought him in.

She stayed out of the way as they settled the boy into the room, but as soon as they were gone she slipped inside, doing her own quick going over before she finally sunk down into the provided chair. Now, if only Sanuye could find Aralyn... and if Aralyn would put aside her hatred of the girl in order to come help her brother... everything would be alright. The T'sashw believed that even an unconcious person could feel the concern of others around them, especially if they happened to be a close personal friend or family. If Aralyn would come... Conan would have the best chance of getting well.