Daily Drama (In American TV Shows)

Note:

I'm willing to write more chapters per week. However, it's possible that next week I won't be able to upload as many chapters because I'm going to visit some relatives out of town. I'll bring a laptop with me, but it doesn't work very well. If I don't upload more chapters this week, you'll have to wait until next Sunday. I'll do my best to have at least one more chapter.

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The next day, in Mr. Givens' science class, a friend of the man, a NASA scientist, came to give a brief talk about his work.

"Now, what I thought would be fun to talk about today is what NASA's planning on doing beyond the Space Shuttle," after an awkward introduction, where Mr. Givens had to defend himself for dating teenagers while he was in college, his friend Dr. Ronald Hodges said, "things like the first manned mission to Mars."

Dr. Hodges was saying when Georgie, a few seats in front of me, raised his hand. "Uh, yeah," pointing at my friend Dr. Hodges gave the floor to Georgie, surely surprised by a question so early in his lecture.

"Did you see the movie Aliens?" innocently Georgie asked the man.

"I did," once again puzzled by the question, Dr. Hodges replied.

"Did you think it was cool?" Georgie asked cheerfully.

"Uh," obviously skeptical about my friend's question, Dr. Hodges studied the teenager for a few seconds trying to discern if it was some kind of joke, "sure, I enjoyed it."

"Me too," Georgie affirmed, falling silent again.

"Football player, right?" after a few seconds of studying my friend, Dr. Hodges asked.

"Yes, sir," not understanding the man's attack on his person, my friend proudly replied.

"Yeah," nodding slightly, Dr. Hodges murmured, "well now, of course, before we can set out to explore the solar system, we've got a few minor problems to overcome," returning to his lecture, the man said, "not the least of which is, every time we launch, it costs the U.S. taxpayers hundreds of millions of dollars," he continued speaking seriously.

A moment later, and surprisingly much later than I would have expected, Sheldon raised his hand.

Behind Dr. Hodges, Mr. Givens, upon seeing Sheldon's hand up, immediately grew nervous, even murmuring to himself as he shook his head.

"Yes," again seeing a hand up, Dr. Hodges with a cheerful smile gave the floor to another of my friends.

"If you want to save money, why don't you land the booster rockets instead of letting them drop in the ocean?" Sheldon asked immediately, I must admit that to my disappointment, Sheldon's question was not as aggressive as it could have been.

"It's a cute idea, but, uh, it's not technically possible," Dr. Hodges, still smiling, denied it; it was possible, at least it would be in the future.

"Why not?" Sheldon asked, puzzled.

"Well, it's hard to explain," with a somewhat tenser smile than before, the man replied, "the math is pretty complicated," he added.

"Perhaps I could help you with it," confidently, Sheldon offered.

"Well, I bet you could," smiling kindly at my little friend, Dr. Hodges said, "I'll bet you could," surely seeing the seriousness on Sheldon's face, the man repeated, "I'll tell you what, here is a NASA patch," from one of his pockets, the man pulled out a patch, offering it to Sheldon, who slowly took it, "why don't you have your mom sew that on your book bag?" condescendingly, the man offered to Sheldon.

"Now, who here wants to know how astronauts go to the bathroom?" walking past Sheldon, walking between the benches, the man asked, causing almost all hands in the classroom to immediately shoot up.

After that, during the talk, I could notice how Sheldon was upset by the interaction he had with the man, the kid was very easy to read, following the short scientist with a furious look, Sheldon surely planned to show that the man was wrong.

As I predicted, in the following days, Sheldon focused completely on proving the man wrong, even skipping some classes, according to what Tam said when I asked him, to work on the library computers.

On Friday night, when I returned from my training with Case, Sheldon along with his parents were at our house.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, good evening," entering the house, I greeted the couple who responded noticeably tired or exasperated for some reason.

"Hi PJ," alongside them, Sheldon, obviously in pain in his abdomen, made an effort to greet me, "hey buddy, are you okay?" approaching the child, I asked.

"PJ, you're finally here," coming out of the kitchen with cups in her hand, mom said with what I could discern as a forced smile.

"Yeah, what's up?" I asked puzzled.

"Sheldon wanted to get your medical opinion, he thinks he has a..." Mrs. Cooper, obviously stressed, said, pausing trying to remember.

"An ulcer?" I asked.

"Yes," complaining of pain, Sheldon said, "I told you he would agree with me, it's obvious," he continued.

"Yeah, PJ, Sheldon wanted to know your opinion, not mine," handing the steaming cups to the other present parents, mom said with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"You know I'm still not a doctor, Sheldon, right?" secretly observing his behavior, I knew Sheldon, and it was very difficult for him to suddenly start pretending pain.

"But you're the closest thing to one in the vicinity," the child replied, causing mom to snort understandably upset, causing both Mr. and Mrs. Cooper to apologize silently.

"Well, thanks for your trust in me, Sheldon," leaning in front of the child on the couch, I said, "what do you say if I do a quick physical exam," indicating to the child to lift his shirt, I palpate his abdomen feeling it slightly swollen, also finding small patches of different tones on his skin, "have you been under a lot of stress lately?" lowering the child's shirt, I asked.

"Yes, she won't take me to Radio Shack," pointing to his mom, the child said.

"Young man," annoyed, Mrs. Cooper reprimanded her son.

"Radio Shack, do you need a computer for NASA rocket math?" standing up, I asked.

"Yes, how do you know?" surprised, Sheldon asked.

"I have microphones in your house," smiling and widening my eyes, I whispered lying to the child.

"He might have an ulcer," ignoring the terrified look the child was giving me, I told his parents, "the hospital can wait until tomorrow, but he's going to need labs," I concluded.

"I told you," Sheldon said from his place on the couch.

"How sure are you, PJ?" now with concern, Mrs. Cooper asked.

"I'm pretty sure. He has a slightly swollen abdomen, pain in the right places, and a slight discoloration in some parts of his skin. I'm sure it's nothing serious, a course of Zantac treatment and Sheldon will be as good as new," I assured.

"I read an interesting research about treating ulcers with antimicrobials," Sheldon, still in pain, said.

"Yes, treatment with antimicrobials can also be an option. The main focus is to eradicate the bacterial infection that causes ulcers, thus preventing them from spreading, but that depends on your doctor, buddy," I assured the child.

"At the hospital, you can ask for Dr. Allison Cameron. She's an immunologist friend of mine. If you tell her you're there on my behalf, I'm sure she'll treat Sheldon gladly," I said to the Coopers.

"Perfect, thank you, PJ," getting up, Sheldon said, walking towards the door, "also, thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Duncan," the child stopped for a moment, turning to mom, "let's go, Mom, Dad, I have to look for microphones," Sheldon continued seriously.

"Well, thank you very much, PJ," Mrs. Cooper said, getting up somewhat puzzled, "thanks for everything, Amy," she continued, handing her cup to mom.

"Thank you, son," offering his hand to me, Mr. Cooper said tiredly before also saying goodbye to mom.

"It seems like you're the closest thing to a doctor in this house now," mom said with a playful smile.

"He's just a kid, and he interacts much more with me, Mom. Don't pay attention to him, he doesn't know what he's talking about," taking the cups from the woman's hands, I reassured her.

"No, Sheldon is right," stopping slightly with a smile on her face, mom said, "that was an impressive diagnosis, my son the doctor," with pride, the woman affectionately tapped my hand.

The following Monday, Cameron confirmed my diagnosis and told me about the treatment my little friend would follow.

The week passed like all the previous days, following my routine. The only thing that changed was Case's classes. Having learned at least the basics of fighting, the man found it appropriate to start teaching me guard positions from the ground.

Using Tim as an opponent, who was several dozen pounds heavier than either of us, Case showed us ways to bring down our opponents. "Learn the first ten. By the way, you need to get me a new composition notebook, black," handing me 'homework' in the form of a black notebook filled with drawings with explanations, Case said as a farewell on Friday of that week.

At home, surprisingly, the first person I encountered was Gabe nervously waiting on the living room couch with the television off.

"We have a problem," seeing me, the boy immediately stood up, taking me by the arm and dragging me into the kitchen.

"What's wrong, Gabe? Are you okay?" seeing the child so nervous, I asked concerned.

"Okay," always vigilant at the kitchen door, the child began to speak in a whisper, "it's already here," my brother declared theatrically.

"What's already here?" I asked, puzzled by the child's behavior.

"I overheard Dad talking about it," shaking his head slightly, Gabe said, ignoring my question, "we have to find a way to refuse, maybe you can say I have an illness, and we have to stay because of that," hopefully the child said.

"Gabe, I'm not understanding, what's worrying you so much?" quickly putting my hands on his shoulders, quickly getting the attention of the worried child again.

"The annual fishing trip of the Duncans," Gabe replied grimly after swallowing loudly.

"What?" I asked, despite hearing clearly, I didn't understand the problem behind going fishing; I had never done it before, but it sounded like a peaceful thing, a few days out of my routine could be quite peaceful.

"It's true, you forgot about it," frowning, the child said as he nodded slightly, "take a seat, PJ," pointing to one of the chairs in the kitchen, the child said calmly.

Somewhat amused by all the child's acting, I decided to take a seat to listen to whatever he had to say.

"Imagine this, the only two days you have to rest in the whole week, used only to sit for hours watching a bunch of water around you and insects everywhere," walking from side to side theatrically, Gabe said, "the worst part is that there's a slight chance you might catch something. Do you know what that means?" stopping and horrified at the idea of what he had just said, Gabe asked.

"I don't know, maybe cook and eat the fish?" I asked with a bit of irony.

"Well, yeah," surely cutting his monologue short, I interrupted the child, "but you're focusing on the wrong thing. The problem is that it's two days away from civilization, no television, no music because loud noises scare the fish, nothing. Two days of pure torture," exaggeratedly, Gabe said, stopping his monologue.

"It doesn't sound so bad," I said.

"Yeah, that's why we have to think of a way to avoid..." the child was saying, apparently not understanding what he had said until he stopped himself, "wait, what?" taken by surprise, the child stopped.

"It doesn't sound so bad, Gabe. It's just two days where you have to be separated from what you normally do on weekends," I said, "which is basically nothing," I continued, causing the child to nod proudly for some reason, "Dad works every day so you can do nothing, so I don't think it's so bad to give him two days of the year in something he enjoys."

"But you don't understand, it's fishing, insects, let me explain it to you again," incredulous, the child said.

"No matter what it is, it's something Dad wants to do with us, so why not give it to him?" standing up, interrupting the restart of his monologue, I said, shaking my brother's hair, "I'll tell you what, kiddo, we'll go to this for Dad, you'll enjoy as much as you can anything you find entertaining, and next weekend I'll tell Dad to go to a Monster Trucks event. I heard a doctor from the hospital really likes it, and I thought about going to see one," I offered and I could see how the child's eyes lit up with excitement.

"Okay, you've got a deal," quickly taking my hand with fear that I would change my mind, the child said, nodding vigorously.

"Then it seems like we're going fishing."

Leaving the kitchen, I encountered Bob walking from his room to the living room with a big smile. "Hey champ, great news, it's time for the annual Duncan fishing trip," the man said excitedly.

"I just heard it from Gabe. Sounds good," I said, making Bob even more excited.

"Then tomorrow bright and early, we'll head out to the campsite," Bob said with a big smile. "By the way, I wanted to give you this." He pulled a pocket knife from his back pocket. "Your grandpa gave it to me when I turned sixteen." After placing the knife in my hand and looking at it fondly for a few seconds, Bob lightly tapped my shoulder. "You'll have to pass it on to your own son at some point," he continued seriously. "It's a sort of tradition."

"Thanks, Dad," feeling a lump in my throat, I thanked the man.

"No problem. Just don't tell your brother; he might get a little jealous. When he turns sixteen, I'll figure out what to get him," Bob said jokingly in a whisper before walking into the kitchen.

Looking at the knife in my hand, I clenched it a little before tucking it into my pocket.

The next morning, very early, I woke up Gabe, who, already accustomed to our morning runs, got up without much trouble until he remembered why we were waking up early.

After reminding Gabe of our deal, we left our room to find a strangely energetic Bob prepared with a funny fishing hat and a dark green vest, as well as three fishing rods in his hands and a large backpack hanging from his other shoulder.

"Are you guys ready?" energetically whispering, Bob asked. Without speaking, I responded by raising my thumbs, smiling broadly. "Then, the annual Duncan fishing trip officially begins!" Ignoring Gabe's lack of response and cheerfully accepting my response, Bob said, walking happily out of the house.

"Come on, what's the worst that could happen?" taking a dejected Gabe under my arm, I asked as I followed Bob out of the house.

Outside the house, contrary to what I thought before leaving, we weren't entirely alone on the street. In front of their own house, with a comically large suitcase by his side, Sheldon, with a hat covering his ears, stood beside his family's car, apparently eagerly waiting.

"Oh PJ, are you going to the launching of the space shuttle too?" Sheldon asked cheerfully, surprised.

"Oh no, we're going fishing," I said, pointing to Bob, who was struggling to fit the fishing rods into the car.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that for you," the child said somberly with pity.

What's with kids and not wanting to go fishing?

"Well, enjoy the launch, Sheldon," I said as a farewell to the strange kid, walking back to Bob and Gabe, who were still struggling to fit the long rods into the car.

After managing to pack everything into the car, we headed to the camping site that Bob had researched. Being relatively new to the area, Bob didn't know the best camping and fishing spots in Colorado, but taking information from a sports equipment store owner, where he also bought bait, we headed there.

Several hours of driving later, even through a forest trail, we arrived at the camping site, next to a river that bifurcated in the center by a block of land and then rejoined. It seemed like the site was quite popular as there were already other families present.

In the spacious land area in the center of the river, the other families seemed to be having a picnic day. Among them, there wasn't a single child, ruling out any hope of Gabe having fun with people his age.

"More people!, David Wallace, pleasure to meet you," a cheerful man said as we got out of the car, approaching to introduce himself.

"Howdy, pleasure to meet you," shaking the man's hand, Bob said, "I'm Bob Duncan, and these are my sons, PJ and Gabe," he continued.

"Are you guys here to camp?" the man, David Wallace, asked. "Well, we're just here for a picnic day; in a few hours, you'll have us out of here," after Bob nodded to his first question, the man continued.

"Who are they, honey?" walking carefully through the river from the land to the center, a heavily pregnant woman asked. "Callie, honey, these are Bob Duncan and his sons, PJ and Gabe; they're here to camp," the man introduced us before going to help his wife walk out of the river.

"Oh, isn't that sweet?" looking at my younger brother, the woman asked sweetly, "you're here for some quality time with your Dad," she affirmed, stroking her bulging abdomen, obviously envisioning their future.

"Yes, it's an annual Duncan tradition," proudly, Bob affirmed, "I hate to ask this but are you..." Bob was saying, but the woman interrupted him, "pregnant? Yes, quite," pointing to her swollen abdomen, the woman said amusingly.

"Well, congratulations. My wife is also pregnant; it would be our fourth, your first?" Bob asked cheerfully, causing the couple to nod excitedly.

"I hope I'm not being forward, how many months along are you?" I asked a little worried, being so far from society; we were hours away from the nearest hospital.

"I'm in the third trimester, eighth month," hugging her belly, Mrs. Wallace said with a big smile.

As long as nothing serious happened, the woman and the baby would be safe, but for some reason, I felt strangely nervous.

After Bob and Mr. Wallace talked about a couple of other things, we got down to business setting up the tents and preparing what was necessary to make a fire in the land in the middle of the river; there was enough space to be used as a campsite.

Several hours after eating barbecue that the Wallaces happily shared, with the camp already established, Bob was boiling water to make coffee for everyone, while Gabe and I were sitting reading some comics that the boy had brought. "It's not as bad as in Colorado; there we sat in a small boat for hours. At least here, I can decide where to be during all that time," finishing another comic, the boy said.

"You see, just be careful not to finish your comics all at once," I warned him, flipping a page of the comic I was reading about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, quite interesting.

As I read the comic, a drop of water suddenly fell on the page I had open, and moments later, many other drops began to fall.

Closing the comic and handing it to Gabe, I stood up. "Go put the comics back in the car and wait there; it looks like it's going to rain," I said worriedly. The only ways we had to leave the clearing of land were through the river, and if it started raining heavily, those paths could become impassable.

"Dad, I think we need to put the stuff back in the car before we can't cross the river," pointing out what I had noticed, I said, causing Bob to immediately start organizing things after warning the Wallaces and those with them.

While I stayed behind organizing the remaining tents, Bob went to leave things he had with him in the car where Gabe was waiting.

In a matter of seconds, the rain became denser, causing the river currents to increase in speed, removing the safety of passage. "I'm going to tie a rope to the other side to make it safe to cross," a big man from Mr. Wallace's group bravely said as he carried a thick rope and crossed the river, which covered almost the entirety of his upper body.

As people crossed the river, I decided to leave the last tent without dismantling it. The few minutes it had taken for the vast majority of people to cross the river had allowed strong winds, along with a heavy storm, to hit where we were.

The river currents were now practically impossible to cross. "Honey, what's happening?" next to me, Mr. Wallace yelled over the noise of the rain.

Mrs. Wallace, with pain on her face, was bent over her abdomen, holding onto her husband's shoulder. Approaching the couple, "there's still a tent up there," leaving the things I had in my hands, I asked, helping Mrs. Wallace walk with her husband's assistance. "Let's go," the man said, walking alongside us.

"How often are the contractions?" laying the woman down inside the tent, I asked.

"I don't know, every few seconds," the woman responded with pain, suddenly screaming again.

"Mrs. Wallace, you're in labor; we need to get this baby out now," preparing the woman seriously, I said.

"What?" Mr. Wallace, who had been frozen seconds ago, asked incredulously.

"The contractions are almost immediate, one after another, Mr. Wallace, David, we don't have time to hesitate. Do you have any medical training?" I asked seriously.

"No, I'm a journalist," nervously, the man responded, apparently not knowing what to do.

"Okay, I need you to listen to me; it might seem odd because of my age, but I know what I'm doing," deciding to take control of the situation, I said. "I'll go for the water my dad was boiling; I'll be back in a few minutes. David, go with your wife and hold her hand; it's going to hurt, so be prepared. Callie, I need you to breathe like this," I ordered, showing the woman how to breathe.

Outside the tent, the rain had worsened. "PJ!" from the other side of the current, Bob was yelling forcefully, "I'm here!" I shouted back, running to where the bonfire had been. Fortunately, where Bob had heated the water was a closed metal container. Due to its weight, it hadn't overturned in the wind and still held a high temperature.

Dipping the pocket knife Bob had given me into the dangerously hot water, I hurried back to the to the place near where the tent was.

"She's giving birth; try to call for help!" shouting as close to the shore as I could, I informed Bob, who seemed to hear, running towards where the vans were parked.

Inside the tent, I could hear the screams of the pregnant woman. "I'm back; this isn't going to be pretty, but don't worry, I know what I'm doing," kneeling down, I left the hot water by my side, arranging the legs of the pained woman.

"Callie, I need you to keep breathing as I taught you and push as hard as you can when I tell you," positioning the woman's hips, I said. "David, hold her hand; this is going to be very painful, and you need to support her," I said seriously to the frightened man, who quickly nodded.

"Ready, Callie?" I asked, causing the woman, who was breathing heavily, to nod. Placing my hands in the hot water, I endured the pain it caused before returning to the woman, positioning myself. "Push!" I shouted.

The woman's screams sounded much louder than the rain, at least inside the tent. Accompanying the woman's screams, David also shouted in pain, contorting his arm where his wife was gripping tightly.

"I need you to do it again, Callie, push!" I shouted, watching as a second later, the baby's head crowned between the woman's legs.

"I can see his head, Callie, one more time," I shouted.

"I can't!" tears escaping her eyes, the woman screamed, shaking her head, "Callie, you have to do this; your baby needs to be born," I said, trying to feel the baby's head that hadn't fully emerged.

"I can't!" the woman screamed again.

Seeing David, I approached the man gently, "I know how to perform an emergency cesarean, but the baby is about to come out, and right now, it could be dangerous," apparently hearing enough, the man leaned down to his wife's ear, speaking to her for a few seconds before sitting back down, preparing his hand, nodding to me vigorously.

"Alright, Callie, one more time, push!" I shouted, prepared to receive the baby.

With one last horrible, prolonged scream, the woman exerted herself to the maximum, allowing the baby's head to emerge, and allowing me to help pull the baby out completely.

"I've got him," I said, quickly taking the knife from the water and cutting the umbilical cord. "Why isn't it crying?" seemingly forgetting her own pain, Callie asked, worried, catching my attention.

"Darn it," moving quickly, I said, "the umbilical cord is strangling it," removing the umbilical cord from around the baby's neck, I initiated cardiopulmonary resuscitation. "Come on, come on," pressing the small chest of the baby with two fingers, I said before slowly giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, "please breathe, come on," I continued, mentally counting. "Your parents are here, come on, you have to breathe," for the second time I gave air to the child, feeling the heartbeat in my chest and my ears blocked while continuing to do the maneuver in a trance.

"My baby, please," suddenly next to me, Callie screamed, crying desperately, being held back by her husband.

"Come on," leaning in once more to give air to the baby's lungs in my arms, I said for the last time.

"Waaah!" as I removed my mouth from the baby's face, the infant immediately cried, moving in my arms.

"Thank you," feeling a bit weak and tears running down my face, I said genuinely to no one, "congratulations, it's a boy," laughing a bit as I tried not to cry, I handed the exposed baby to his parents.

Quite the eventful weekend for a peaceful fishing trip.

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Author Thoughts:

As always, I'm not American and Not a doctor.

What did you think of the chapter? Let's not tempt fate, eh?

With that said,

I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.

Thank you for reading! :D

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