Smells Like Teen Spirit Baby
All Work and No Play
I glanced up at him and grinned.
“I dunno, lots of our patients think lying down for hours and having needles poked into them is Hell, but, hey, I guess you’re different.” I said lightheartedly.
The corners of his mouth tweaked up a smidge. Not quite a smile, but a huge leap of improvement from depressive to the point of suicide.
I took a deep breath and began the mandatory round of questioning.
“Sir, do you know why you’re here?”
Any traces of a smile were stolen from his face, and a terrible cloudiness engulfed his expression.
“You know the answer to that question.” He replied coldly.
“I know it sucks, but, you know, hospital procedure.” I tried explaining.
He regarded me with stony eyes and sighed.
“Please,” he said, “please don’t make me talk about it.”
I observed him for a moment. More than his words were tempting me to forget about the rules. He was either genuinely miserable, or the best actor in the world.
“Tell you what,” I offered, “if you cooperate and make the whole rest of this experience easy for me, I won’t make you talk about it.”
At that moment, I felt proud.
He relaxed, just a bit, mind you, and the corners of his mouth tweaked up.
“Deal.”
****************
I’m not going to say that the next few weeks were easy, but there did seem to be a certain flow that was unlike any other I’d encountered since starting my last year of med school. One of my classes had finished exams early, and, after concocting a few very good lies, I’d been able to convince the Student Schedule Coordinator to let me take one of my exams early. I had single handedly finished my last year of med school a month early.
Unfortunately, there was still my internship at the hospital, and Mala wasn’t going to go easy on me.
“Sleeping again?” Mala whined through the phone. I opened my eyes and contemplated throwing the godforsaken phone against the wall.
“Of course not,” I yawned, “What do you need Mala?”
I heard him sigh, and my curiosity instantly piqued.
“We…need your help.” He said.
“I dunno, lots of our patients think lying down for hours and having needles poked into them is Hell, but, hey, I guess you’re different.” I said lightheartedly.
The corners of his mouth tweaked up a smidge. Not quite a smile, but a huge leap of improvement from depressive to the point of suicide.
I took a deep breath and began the mandatory round of questioning.
“Sir, do you know why you’re here?”
Any traces of a smile were stolen from his face, and a terrible cloudiness engulfed his expression.
“You know the answer to that question.” He replied coldly.
“I know it sucks, but, you know, hospital procedure.” I tried explaining.
He regarded me with stony eyes and sighed.
“Please,” he said, “please don’t make me talk about it.”
I observed him for a moment. More than his words were tempting me to forget about the rules. He was either genuinely miserable, or the best actor in the world.
“Tell you what,” I offered, “if you cooperate and make the whole rest of this experience easy for me, I won’t make you talk about it.”
At that moment, I felt proud.
He relaxed, just a bit, mind you, and the corners of his mouth tweaked up.
“Deal.”
****************
I’m not going to say that the next few weeks were easy, but there did seem to be a certain flow that was unlike any other I’d encountered since starting my last year of med school. One of my classes had finished exams early, and, after concocting a few very good lies, I’d been able to convince the Student Schedule Coordinator to let me take one of my exams early. I had single handedly finished my last year of med school a month early.
Unfortunately, there was still my internship at the hospital, and Mala wasn’t going to go easy on me.
“Sleeping again?” Mala whined through the phone. I opened my eyes and contemplated throwing the godforsaken phone against the wall.
“Of course not,” I yawned, “What do you need Mala?”
I heard him sigh, and my curiosity instantly piqued.
“We…need your help.” He said.