Robert Maudeville
The hospital is a bleached white antiseptic building with warm air and a cool atmosphere. It smells of ruthlessly combated sickness. The waiting room isn't full, but there is only a half staff working. You wait for a half hour, fill out more paperwork, and then wait some more. When you think about your foot hard enough the cut throbs, but that may just be hypochondria. Or it could be the North Carolinian Creeping Death. They'd probably tell you if you had the NCCD.
The more severe injury is probably your writer's cramp as you sign your name on the fiftieth piece of paper. By this point the medical jargon is swimming before your eyes, making less sense then it did to begin with. You're fairly sure the you're working on a waiver indemnifying the hospital if as a result of this shot an alien pops out of your stomach and breaks all your dishes when you get home. Then you hear a deep, gravelly voice.
"Hello, Mr Maudeville."
The hospital is a bleached white antiseptic building with warm air and a cool atmosphere. It smells of ruthlessly combated sickness. The waiting room isn't full, but there is only a half staff working. You wait for a half hour, fill out more paperwork, and then wait some more. When you think about your foot hard enough the cut throbs, but that may just be hypochondria. Or it could be the North Carolinian Creeping Death. They'd probably tell you if you had the NCCD.
The more severe injury is probably your writer's cramp as you sign your name on the fiftieth piece of paper. By this point the medical jargon is swimming before your eyes, making less sense then it did to begin with. You're fairly sure the you're working on a waiver indemnifying the hospital if as a result of this shot an alien pops out of your stomach and breaks all your dishes when you get home. Then you hear a deep, gravelly voice.
"Hello, Mr Maudeville."