The Life Criterion 5a/??
anonymous
July 2 2010, 06:11:07 UTC
OMG I'm so slow. RL you nasty bitch! Really sorry guiz ;_; Anyway you have no idea how many times I look at your comments with a stupid grin on my face, love you so much!<3
The birthday party the nurses held for him was not exactly fancy or big; it was, however, nice to spend the last few moments of one's birthday on something more than just a usual graveyard shift. They brought him a cake, bags of donuts and sang him birthday songs. Alfred really appreciated it. He liked nurses; they were cute and sweet and helped a lot. Unlike doctors, they often got transferred or left Brehmer for a better job. It's reasonable they took guesses about his presence.
Well, reasonable he supposed . . . But saying that he only came to backwater Brehmer because he was left no choice after being kicked out from the previous hospital due to an (amorous) affair with his former director's wife was just-too much! Alfred was horror-struck when he found out what the nurses had told Arthur. Did they really think that was why he was here? God, what did they take him for? He got this feeling that he stood out in Brehmer like a sore thumb no less but seriously, dude, he hadn't had sex or been in a relationship since his ex-girlfriend dumped his ass, which was busted for internship and that was so, so ancient like, a million years ago. Sometime nurses were really beyond him.
Pros and cons went along with a career. Guess that's all he could say. He was that kind of doctor whose rumors were much more widespread than his talents (which, mind you, was good enough on its own account). He knew things and saved lives, met people and lost contacts. He owned an empty apartment just for sleep, bath and clothes. He felt fulfilled at his work.
Kiku, when he didn't have meetings or clinic to take care about, spent most afternoon visiting the sanatorium. He cared about all his patients, that much Alfred could tell from the time he had seen his mentor searching articles and textbooks for a case. Sometimes when a personal examination was not allowed, Kiku would even page him to have lunch together just so Alfred could brief him on the patients' progress. As a chief doctor, his assigned hours for rounds are considerably fewer than Alfred's. But from the first day at Brehmer, he had told Alfred to feel free to call him if anything happened. "It's not about ability, Alfred. You are a resident that looks out for me. But they have been my patients before you were here." Alfred dealt with whatever fell upon him. It's not that hard.
When asked about how he had got to know Arthur, Kiku wrapped it up in one single sentence.
"I knew Arthur since he was in the high school." He smiled apologetically to Alfred's pout. "That's all I could say. Doctor-patient confidentiality, you understand."
Alfred knew his mentor was good with secrets and if Kiku didn't bring up anything from the past, it's very possible it had nothing to do with the diagnosis at hand. Therefore Alfred didn't delve into it.
Western blot took two days; the result came out with the tuberculin test. Arthur was negative for HIV, no virus or bacterium or any kind of antigen in his blood. Toris told Alfred that he had sent part of Arthur's sputum sample urgent to his friend Eduard, whose laboratory could do the PCR.
"He said we'd have the result within a week." Toris eyed the papers as he passed it to Alfred. "Here is the liver function test I did asides from the culture. In case you need to buy time and start the treatment."
They had to. The skin test was positive.
Of course. Alfred thought as he took in the size of induration at the center of his star, together they now looked like a bizarre pattern of curse. The sputum culture will show positive for tuberculosis, no doubt. Glad we cleared that out. He cast a glance to Kiku, who came in for the results and was off duty from the out-patient department that morning. He looked thoughtful. The room waited quietly for his next words.
The birthday party the nurses held for him was not exactly fancy or big; it was, however, nice to spend the last few moments of one's birthday on something more than just a usual graveyard shift. They brought him a cake, bags of donuts and sang him birthday songs. Alfred really appreciated it. He liked nurses; they were cute and sweet and helped a lot. Unlike doctors, they often got transferred or left Brehmer for a better job. It's reasonable they took guesses about his presence.
Well, reasonable he supposed . . . But saying that he only came to backwater Brehmer because he was left no choice after being kicked out from the previous hospital due to an (amorous) affair with his former director's wife was just-too much! Alfred was horror-struck when he found out what the nurses had told Arthur. Did they really think that was why he was here? God, what did they take him for? He got this feeling that he stood out in Brehmer like a sore thumb no less but seriously, dude, he hadn't had sex or been in a relationship since his ex-girlfriend dumped his ass, which was busted for internship and that was so, so ancient like, a million years ago. Sometime nurses were really beyond him.
Pros and cons went along with a career. Guess that's all he could say. He was that kind of doctor whose rumors were much more widespread than his talents (which, mind you, was good enough on its own account). He knew things and saved lives, met people and lost contacts. He owned an empty apartment just for sleep, bath and clothes. He felt fulfilled at his work.
Kiku, when he didn't have meetings or clinic to take care about, spent most afternoon visiting the sanatorium. He cared about all his patients, that much Alfred could tell from the time he had seen his mentor searching articles and textbooks for a case. Sometimes when a personal examination was not allowed, Kiku would even page him to have lunch together just so Alfred could brief him on the patients' progress. As a chief doctor, his assigned hours for rounds are considerably fewer than Alfred's. But from the first day at Brehmer, he had told Alfred to feel free to call him if anything happened. "It's not about ability, Alfred. You are a resident that looks out for me. But they have been my patients before you were here." Alfred dealt with whatever fell upon him. It's not that hard.
When asked about how he had got to know Arthur, Kiku wrapped it up in one single sentence.
"I knew Arthur since he was in the high school." He smiled apologetically to Alfred's pout. "That's all I could say. Doctor-patient confidentiality, you understand."
Alfred knew his mentor was good with secrets and if Kiku didn't bring up anything from the past, it's very possible it had nothing to do with the diagnosis at hand. Therefore Alfred didn't delve into it.
Western blot took two days; the result came out with the tuberculin test. Arthur was negative for HIV, no virus or bacterium or any kind of antigen in his blood. Toris told Alfred that he had sent part of Arthur's sputum sample urgent to his friend Eduard, whose laboratory could do the PCR.
"He said we'd have the result within a week." Toris eyed the papers as he passed it to Alfred. "Here is the liver function test I did asides from the culture. In case you need to buy time and start the treatment."
They had to. The skin test was positive.
Of course. Alfred thought as he took in the size of induration at the center of his star, together they now looked like a bizarre pattern of curse. The sputum culture will show positive for tuberculosis, no doubt. Glad we cleared that out. He cast a glance to Kiku, who came in for the results and was off duty from the out-patient department that morning. He looked thoughtful. The room waited quietly for his next words.
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