Another crazy night on the South Coast. Actually, the proximity to the sea makes us prone to fog, which is cool in an atmospheric sort of way. So far the department is quiet; I've drained pus from several people's knees, pulled bits of metal out from under fingernails, and tried to explain to a Polish guy I think he's had his heart attack 2 days ago. I've now got to confront a frequent flyer who smells like he sleeps in the sewer. Be still my beating heart. I realise you may be wondering where the compassionate side of Dr Shroom is. It's gone. They cut it out of me during my surgical training. I am bitter, twisted and jaded, all at the same time. It is difficult to muster compassion when the Government insists that all that matters is time in the Department. That bitch Hewitt would give me a gold star if I sat in triage all day administering lethal injections. We'd never breach. Until the men in white coats came for me that is...
Well, for now, I AM the man in the white coat. I'll let you know what the source of the smell is, but I'm terrified it might be code brown...
Till next time
1 comment:
hahaha
yeah......
the jaded life of a hospital worker. my favorite time is when we're all sitting in the lounge on break, eating our food, while Nurse A talks about Patient B's horrific bowel movements or wound leakage of the day. classic!
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