( Private: Hestia )
|
Page Summary
|
The mark is burning. I would come if I could. forward-dated to monday afternoon
[hexed from Hestia] Apparently Madam Fussypants in room 213 thinks that just because she donates money that she can have me fired. [Private: Hestia] Journal hacked by Dahlia
[written in green crayon and in seven-year-old handwriting style] If the rest of you could put off on getting injured out of stupidity for the next few days until the hospital has cleared out a bit, it would be much appreciated. We have real patients to treat. Patients who got hurt in battle rather than trying out new beauty charms and accidentally singing off their lips. I am boycotting charts. Dahlia has decided that she doesn't do math. She says that's what the counting people are for, whatever that means. We had gotten over the hurdle of simple addition and subtraction, but when we tried the two digit numbers, she told me she was finished with mathematics because she's going to be a ballerina when she grows up, and ballerinas don't have to know math, just music. And then she put a tutu on the kitty and told the tutor to shush up and go home. [Private: Jones] While I've found the television to be an interesting device over the years, I'm afraid it's time to get rid of it. My seven-year-old just asked me for a Blackberry. I didn't think much of it, except it was odd that she was asking me for a berry that she doesn't even particularly like. She quickly informed me that, no, she wants a Blackberry PHONE. NEver mind the fact that we don't even have a telephone in the house--why would we, when we've got floo chat and owls? Temper tantrums are unpleasant. Very loud things. We're going to start reading more book in the Rosier household. She seems to be over the great Blackberry riot of 2002. She's dressed in her princess clothes playing with her kneazle. Crisis averted. It appears there is some confusion. If a person has posted a sign that says "NOT IN THE OFFICE, FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO ANSWER YOUR STUPID QUESTIONS," it means they are, most likely, not in the office and that you should find someone else to answer your stupid questions. If you see said person actually in their office by peeking through the drawn window coverings on the office door like a stalker, they still do not want to answer your stupid questions. No, person in room 212. I will not give you more pain medication. A tranquilizer, however, could be arranged, as I am moments from requiring narcotics of my own from hearing your constant complaints. Idiots. Who: Hestia and Lansing [Private: Inner Circle] Supposedly, the longest anyone has survived without sleep is 10 days. That's 240 hours. Actually, the record was somewhere between 10 and 11 days, but I can't be arsed to look up and copy down the exact figure because I'm too tired. If you ask me, that's absolutely false. I've been up for 5 days, 13 hours and 45 minutes and if I had to double that, I would hex myself to death, but only after i hexed every single incompetent hospital employee in my path. (don't worry, good patients, I would most certainly get off on charges of temporary insanity. I'd just be a slightly more psychologically medicated doctor) 1. Chewing gum loudly. Is it truly NECESSARY to make those horrible little smacking noises? Really, your mother should have taught you to chew your non-nutritional snacks with your mouth shut. 2. Tapping those ridiculous fake nails on the counter. Yes, I'm talking about you, Daria. They're too long, they're very impractical for work, and paired with those ridiculous stilettos that you insist upon clacking around in, you look like a prostitute. 3. Asking stupid questions. Yes, "Should I run a diagnostic panel on him?" is a stupid question. The answer is always yes if they're sick and you don't know what's wrong with them. "Is that normal?" Is another one. If you're asking me, the answer is NO. To speak you young people's language--DUH. 4. SPILLING COFFEE ON THE FLOOR OF MY OFFICE because "Oh MERLIN, I didn't think you'd BE here!" It's MY OFFICE and I'm ALWAYS HERE. If I'm not there is no reason for you to be here. 5. Asking me "Are you all right, Healer Rosier?" Do I look like I'm all right? I have bags under my eyes the size of Eurasia and my patients are dying. 7. The smell of green apple candy. Do not eat that nasty shit around me. 9. Never mind. The patients that have survived are stable, we've found treatment that's working. It's time for me to take a vacation. I'm sure you gum-chewing, stupid-question asking, green-apple candy eating experts can handle it without me until Thursday or Friday. Try not to make too many stupid mistakes. And you can try to owl me, but it won't reach me. Those who need to contact me will be given the appropriate means to do so. The rest of you can use this as an exercise in self-sufficiency. ( Private: Penelope/Lansing ) People are dying and you ask for a personal day? The details of how badly you need a massage and how you've been on a waiting list for this 'physical therapist' for eight months do not interest me. What interests me are the eighteen patients that would die if all of the healers in this place were as self-centered and whiny as you are. I would fire you in a heartbeat if I didn't need all the hands I can get here right now. You'd better prove that you can function without a massage or you're gone at the end of the week and I'll make sure you can't get hired as a janitor at a free clinic in Namibia. I haven't slept in days. Therefore, the list of things that annoy me has grown exponentially longer. If you value your life, don't speak to me until I get some rest. Another late night at Mungo's. Now we've five patients exhibiting much the same symptoms. Gastrointestinal distress, some are getting worse. It looks like the first patient who came in isn't going to live until dinnertime tonight unless whatever God they do or don't believe in steps in on his behalf. |