1. I asked him what he wanted in life. He paused, fighting back tears. “To be in love,” he eventually whispered.
2. “This is Mr. Smith in room 15,” he said, his voice full of static over the nurses’ speakerphone. “I need help… with my life!” The psychotic man’s name was actually Mr. Jones, he was in room 19, and the nurses couldn’t help but giggle.
3. “A patient grabbed my boob—can you assure me that my breast isn’t broken?” she jested. The nurse lifted up her shirt and pulled away her bra. The skin on her breast was red, raw, and tender.
4. A bag of candy slouched on the countertop. Walking past, I suddenly stopped, shyly looked around, and asked, “May I have one?” A nurse brushed past and said, “Yes, I believe that is public domain.”
5. A ring of clouds encircled the waist of Mt. Rainier. The setting sun cast a rosy glow over the snowy mountain. It soon faded into the midnight blue darkness of seven o’ clock.
4 Nov 2007 |
Amazing.
Comment by Don | 5 Nov 2007 @ 6:52am
i’m seventeen. yesterday i called my parents and let them know “i don’t want to be pre-med, i would rather be a clinical psychology/environmental science major.” they were not very happy. so i spent today thinking about the future (as usual) and tried to find a blog written by a psychiatrist. i won’t be offended if you don’t reply, but i just wanted to ask
is it really possible to help people (not just the ones that can afford it) as a psychiatrist?
and
did medical school leave time for you to live an examined (left time for reflection, travel, books, writing) life?
feel free to email me
i usually don’t do this, but i trust writers
Comment by hai-jung theresa kim | 5 Nov 2007 @ 2:34pm
What about writers who are psychiatrists? Might be either a double dose or an antidote to each other…
Comment by Greg P | 5 Nov 2007 @ 6:56pm