Bonesaw- Tools

Riley looked up from her work, the surgeon’s end of a twenty-four inch set of complex dilators pinched between her lips because her hands were full.  The working end of the dilators were set in the open surgical site of her own thigh, where she had cut past skin, muscle, adipose tissues.  She’d also had to cut and-or use the dilators on prior alterations she’d buried in her leg, including the subdermal ‘skin’ she’d grown around the the maille sheath she’d set around her femoral artery some time ago, and three spherical eggs she’d implanted in her thigh, in case she was ever in an emergency severe enough to literally cut them loose.
...

“I heard you.  I won’t get blood on your seats,” she promised her driver.  She gave one egg a stroke with the back of her thumb, her hands still holding a narrow drill and an articulated tool that was combination scalpel and forceps.
...

She had to use her thumb to switch gears on the articulated forceps and get them to turn slightly on the y-axis, which meant leaving Om-nom to go back to sleep.  The complex dilators had sub-prongs propped deeper in the wound, to pull the maille sheath and the artery it contained to one side.

It was like ten tools in one spot.  Blood welled at the end of the surgical incision by her knee, and she had to move her arm, elbow almost touching the driver’s seat, so she could get the orientation needed to sweep that blood back into the wound with her pinkie.  It obscured what she was working on, but she could work from memory.
...

She worked on extracting the marrow fluid.  It was laborious, not helped by the fact that the hose was a bit too short.  She had to twist in her seat and reorient her leg to get the fluid to flow back, while keeping the blood from spilling out of the open wound.
...

Riley cleaned her hands, and felt a need to gather things.  She was so used to having her automated workshop assistants with her, creatures to tend to, clones, and catastrophic dead man’s switches that needed pass-phrases, tummy rubs, and pats on the head.

The complex dilators telescoped, other tools folded up, and all fit into a small leather carrying case, that fit into her coat pocket.

- Ward, Last 20.e4