Personal Log # 1 - Arrival

Posted on Thu Sep 20th, 2012 @ 8:42am by Lieutenant Reagan O'Neil M.D, Ph.D.

I'm finally here, and except for a mildly irritating rash from the uniform that I actually think is psycho-somatic, I'm feeling pretty comfortable to be back in the Fleet again. Thus far, I haven't been met with skepticism or anything bordering on hostilty, but I wouldn't expect any of the junior officers I've come across to know, or even to care, that I once resigned my commission while being choked by rage and grief so powerful, I wasn't sure I was ever going to breathe again, let alone work again.

None of that appears to matter here, and while part of me is glad, my cheeks still redden when I think about returning to Starfleet after swearing I never would. I have my pride after all, and I can't blame the brass for thinking my resignation was a major "screw you!" to all the people who supported me and devoted their time and resources to my training. I can't blame them because that's exactly what I was saying at the time. Without my parents in the universe any longer, the people who rescued me after my real parents had abandoned me, Starfleet was all I had, and I wasn't prepared to be told they were "collateral damage."

The irony I see now, which I didn't see then, is I left Starfleet because of its perceived moral failings for a civilian venture that was entirely profit driven. The SS Fawkes may have helped me feel closer to Mom and Dad, but healing for a price didn't exactly cleanse my soul of its moral outrage.

Bad things happen to good people.

It seems trite even now, but it also happens to be true.

Until my parents were murdered, I had never truly appreciated how hard it could be for the heart to accept what the head already knows. I can only hope this will make me a better healer.

For now, I'm focused on moving forward. Though I know I will have to make my presence known to more than the duty officer, I like being just another face in the crowd right now. On the Fawkes, there was no room to hide. Here I feel like I can breathe.

I've set up an appointment with the base's Second Officer, as I'm told the CO and XO are away. Much has happened here of late, and though I'm not privy to the specifics just yet, I'm looking forward to diving into work. It feels good to have access to extensive medical facilities again, and though I have yet to meet Dr. Swift, the rest of the staff tells me he is friendly and more than willing to give a certain degree of autonomy. I'm pleased to hear this, as it's been awhile since I've had to abide by a formal chain of command. The junior mental health staff seemed more than a little eager to pass me their notes and reports, however, and I'm reminded I'll be expected to lead in Swift's stead. How often is yet to be determined, but I am ready.