The hospital

After yesterday's illustrious day off, I was hesitant about returning to the hospital today. "I've given it four days, time to stay home again." Needless to say, Amiel was had other ideas, and I was back to work this morning. The hospital is like a casino. The lack of windows and miserable artificial lights make it impossible to appreciate the true time of day. There is always someone on the go. The building services guy is pushing a dumpster of soiled linens, the stroke patient's husband is looking for his wife's room, and a gaggle of white-coats is making its way down the hall. The nurses are wearing muted pastels and speaking Tagalog. One of them has a bandaid beneath her left eye; another has a long hair sticking out from the side of his face. Silence is elusive. Monitors are beeping, phones are ringing, and pagers are buzzing. I see someone swipe a jello from a patient's tray.

After rounds, I head outside with my resident and med student. The sun blinds us and the swooshing wind soothes our ears. My resident smokes a cigarette and pulls out a bag of barbeque potato chips. I'm thankful that he's a smoker because it gives me an excuse to slip outside the hospital.

Back in the workroom, I vie for a free computer and start writing my notes. The computer table is cement grey and littered with piles of paper. When no one is looking, I covertly wipe down my mouse and keyboard with an alcohol pad. A few hours later, I'm preparing to leave when our team receives a new consult. More on her to come.