(no subject)
It wasn't that Nicholas disliked working. On the contrary, he rather enjoyed it. If you listened to the endless propaganda spouted by his father, he had been born to the medical profession. The trouble was, he wanted to be able to actually work. It seemed to be feast or famine in the Compound clinic, and famine typically won out.
Not too long ago, Rollie had mentioned something about a second clinic. Something closer to the Hamlet, an outpost of sorts so that people wouldn't have to come as far for basic care. It made good sense to Nicholas, although he suspected most of the prima donnas they worked with would balk at the conditions. The more he considered it, the more he liked the idea, and hell, even if it was just Rollie and himself out there, that was fine by Nicholas. Working out of a hut on the island was still worlds better than the mission in Mogambo.
How difficult could be to get something like that done? As far as he could tell, it was just a matter of writing up a proposal for Carson and the Council. He brought his idly spinning chair to an abupt stop and shifted closer to a lab table. Pen in hand and chewing intently on his bottom lip, he began to scribble down ideas on a piece of scrap paper.
[OOC: This is your Monday morning clinic post. Come in for medical issues, or just to chat.]
Not too long ago, Rollie had mentioned something about a second clinic. Something closer to the Hamlet, an outpost of sorts so that people wouldn't have to come as far for basic care. It made good sense to Nicholas, although he suspected most of the prima donnas they worked with would balk at the conditions. The more he considered it, the more he liked the idea, and hell, even if it was just Rollie and himself out there, that was fine by Nicholas. Working out of a hut on the island was still worlds better than the mission in Mogambo.
How difficult could be to get something like that done? As far as he could tell, it was just a matter of writing up a proposal for Carson and the Council. He brought his idly spinning chair to an abupt stop and shifted closer to a lab table. Pen in hand and chewing intently on his bottom lip, he began to scribble down ideas on a piece of scrap paper.
[OOC: This is your Monday morning clinic post. Come in for medical issues, or just to chat.]