literature

Patient 0 or Patience.

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Patient 0 Or Patience.
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(Title as of yet undetermined.)
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Patient 8: Placeholder

Patient 7:

Sometimes I really, really hate being a greeter for a mass mega-mart chain of all you can want or need stores. You have to be smiley and cheery to even the most miserable, sick, and angry human beings you can come across. Like today for instance, A lady came in who looked as though she'd be ready to be hung out to dry or stuffed and hung on the wall by a taxidermist. I smiled, as the rule book says we're supposed to do, and welcomed her to our store, just like the rule book says we're supposed to do too, and she looked at me with the scariest bloodshot eyes. My friends tell me that I don't scare easily but seeing this old lady come in with eyes that could just of easily been dripping blood, quite frankly, terrified me. It doesn't help that when she asked for help getting a cart, she sounded remotely similar to Dr. Claw on the old cartoon Inspector Gadget. I didn't expect that at all. You do what you do at these jobs just because you've got to earn a living, but I swear, there are some days, I just don't think it's worth it.

Patient 6:

Sam came into work today. She wasn't looking all that good but assures me with a doctor's note that it's nothing more than seasonal allergies. Still. I'm a little worried. She coughed quite a bit today while working on the grill. She usually stays within rules and knows to cover her mouth if she's sick, but with the constant coughing, I let her work an hour, and then sent her home to get some much needed rest. Speaking of being sick, if this sickness is really truly going around, it sure hits like a sack of bricks and it hits fast because I was feeling fine before Sam came in. I think I'll go take some headache medication and then go rest in my office for a little bit.

Patient 5:

Doc says I'm going to be fine. How he knows this, I don't know because he wasn't looking all that healthly himself. He said I'm having seasonal flu, which happens to be going around. Apparently he's seen two other people today with the symptoms. He sent me to pick up some amoxicillin like stuff and sent me on my merry way. It was nice of him to ask me how my job at the burger joint was going though. I suppose I should take his advice and take  the medication and then get back to work.

Patient 4:

Roger got home from the Subway a few moments ago and just doesn't look good. He asked for some chicken noodle soup, coughed a few times and then went straight to bed. I don't think I've ever seen him like that. I told him before he curled up into bed that I'd head out to the grocery store to get the makings for the chicken noodle soup. He seemed grateful. It's nice to have such a loving husband. So, here I am, heading out to the grocery store in the middle of the afternoon to make chicken soup. I'm feeling a little dizzy and congested, but I think that's just the summer allergies making their rounds through my system. I'll make it home in no time, make the chicken soup and then take a hot bath and take some decongestant to see if it helps.

Patient 3:

Stupid nurses. I swear. I remind them time and time again to put gloves on before they interact with our patients here at the hospital. I just saw another who forgot, or let it slide. I kindly remind her to change out her bandage to get a fresh one on and don gloves before she spreads some sort of infection, and what thanks to I get? She sneezed. Right in my face! Forty years in this job helping and curing people of what ails them and the people who are the most careless aren't the patients, it's the damn nurses. Ah well. I suppose I should ease up. I'm turning into a mean spirited crochity old man whose time will be up when the good Lord decides it'll be my time and take me then. Until then, I've got to find a cure for this damn headache. Where in Hell did it come from anyway? It's a dull throbbing pain unlike any other one I've ever had. Usually I don't get headaches at the office. This is most peculiar. I'll write more on it when I get a moment later. I've got to go throw down some all-purpose cure all and get back to work.

Patient 2:

I've seen the flu. This wasn't the flu. I don't know what it was, but when the gentleman who just wandered in here, he genuinely didn't seem like he was all there. There were little bits of his finger nails hanging off, and his hair was falling out. Death warmed over seems to be an adequate term.. but in all my years as a nurse, I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like this. I sit the gentleman down, and tell him I'll be right with him. I happen to notice he has a cut in his hand, I don't know where that came from, but I let him know that I'll patch that up for him at no cost to him. He moans a little bit, and then plunges back into a stupor. I head into the closet where we keep the bandages, and grab a few and some anesthetic in a jar. I admit, I probably should have worn gloves for this, but I was in a rush because it's been busy around here, but I anesthetized the gentleman's hand and then put the bandage on.  I noticed some of his blood got on my hand and the bandaid on my hand. I make a mental note to take care of it when I get a moment free, but in the mean time, I wander off to wash my hands.

Patient 1:

Damn it. Some guy was coughing and sneezing on the subway again. I'm honestly not a germaphobe. Honest. My doctor just tells me that I'm .. more susceptable to that kind of thing than the average person. Whatever that means.  I ask them if they need a tissue or hankee, and they just stare at me like I'm a slab of roast beef. I don't understand it and I'm quite frankly kinda mortified by it, so before they can make me a dish, or worse, sneeze or cough on me, I back away. That's when the headaches and body aches start. It starts at the nape of my neck. You know that feeling you have when you have a bite and you just want to itch it? It's kind of like that, only four times worse. The cramps in my neck come out of nowhere and flair up something fierce. I could compare them to what my wife tells me menstral cramping feels like, but I don't even know if that'd begin to describe it. My head is sweating and I'm not feeling good. I'm starting to get hungry so I take a bite of my roast beef sandwich. It's not very satisfying. I make my mind up to just keep quiet and try to buckle down and sleep the rest of the subway route home. Maybe some of the wife's chicken soup can make me feel better. I sure hope so.

Patient 0:

Jerry, God bless his little soul. Pulling in a mediocre $60,000 a year, we can barely get by. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't know where we'd be. He tells me that I have to get a job. So I do, in hopes that it'll show him that I'm ready for a more sturdy commitment. I take a job doing experimental drug testing. When I get there, they, the US Army, inject me with some cocktail of this and that and send me on my way. It's a pretty easy life for 250 extra a week. I don't ask questions, and they say I'm good at reporting the side effects of whatever the rainbow fluid they've injected into my veins this week. That's where things start get strange. I got home from the Subway and Jerry tells me that my eyes are looking a little glossy and that I look like I'm coming down with the flu. I feel fine. I've told him it's nothing big.. so we goto bed that evening. When we wake up the next morning, he tells me my skin has lost all color, and I happen to notice I'm losing hair. He sends me to the local hospital. As we don't have a bike, or car, I take the subway. I get into the subway, and take the first empty seat. That's when the coughing and sneezing start. I begin to cough up blood and that's the last thing I remember.
This is my first piece of writing (in a very, very long time), and I've been working on this for the past few days. I don't know if I should continue it or not.

Should I?

-A.
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