(no subject)
Worse than just boring, sometimes the long spans of free time in the clinic without a patient to tend to could prove to be downright dangerous. Or they could in Fitch's case, where too much free time lead to too much thinking about things that may not have struck him otherwise.
Today's revelation as he sat, tapping his pen against the desktop: his birthday was in a month, and he was going to be stuck there for it. Not long after that it'll have been a whole year since his arrival on So-I-guess-this-is-more-than-just-a-mental-breakdown,-huh? Island. Neither milestone was one that he was particularly looking forward to celebrating. He wanted to spend his birthday back home, with his friends... Okay, with his moms. So what? The point was, he didn't want to spend it there.
Christ, he was going to be thirty-five, which was practically forty, which was just about midlife crisis time. And being stuck on an island meant he couldn't even go ahead a buy the mandatory midlife crisis sports car or anything. More importantly, he was going to be thirty-five, which was practically forty, and he was still single. He was a doctor, a fairly good looking one, too, he thought. But single nonetheless.
How did that even work?
He couldn't even blame this place for that one since he wasn't actually in a relationship when he wound up here. He'd ended the closest thing he'd had to one just before arriving, and all for stupid Nurse Mixed Signals. And for what? That probably wouldn't have worked out even if he was still back at home. Those May-December things rarely did.
The rhythm of the pen tapping quickened a bit as his agitation grew. He was going to die car-less and alone.
[I promise he...probably won't spew his issues all over your pup if they come in for medical help. ST and LT are fine. Be sure to drop a post here if they are seeking treatment.]
Today's revelation as he sat, tapping his pen against the desktop: his birthday was in a month, and he was going to be stuck there for it. Not long after that it'll have been a whole year since his arrival on So-I-guess-this-is-more-than-just-a-mental-breakdown,-huh? Island. Neither milestone was one that he was particularly looking forward to celebrating. He wanted to spend his birthday back home, with his friends... Okay, with his moms. So what? The point was, he didn't want to spend it there.
Christ, he was going to be thirty-five, which was practically forty, which was just about midlife crisis time. And being stuck on an island meant he couldn't even go ahead a buy the mandatory midlife crisis sports car or anything. More importantly, he was going to be thirty-five, which was practically forty, and he was still single. He was a doctor, a fairly good looking one, too, he thought. But single nonetheless.
How did that even work?
He couldn't even blame this place for that one since he wasn't actually in a relationship when he wound up here. He'd ended the closest thing he'd had to one just before arriving, and all for stupid Nurse Mixed Signals. And for what? That probably wouldn't have worked out even if he was still back at home. Those May-December things rarely did.
The rhythm of the pen tapping quickened a bit as his agitation grew. He was going to die car-less and alone.
[I promise he...probably won't spew his issues all over your pup if they come in for medical help. ST and LT are fine. Be sure to drop a post here if they are seeking treatment.]