Open RP: Hospital Wing
A big part of working in a hospital was always paperwork. Intern, resident, attending, surgeon, it didn't matter; there were so many forms to fill out and charts to sign that Sacred Heart probably could have bought out Dunder Mifflin's entire supply for a year and still had trouble keeping up. What Dr. Cox didn't quite understand, though, was how an operation that A: didn't seem to have any real form of health insurance, B: was mostly occupied by people without families, C: had an almost 0% mortality rate and D: used almost no invasive procedures could possibly still E: have so much damn paperwork.
The other big problem he had with the Hospital Wing was, the place was boring. Oh, Cox was thrilled that his patients no longer tended to die on him, to be sure, but the lack of death in the place threw up a huge wall when it came to actually learning anything. Plus, 90% of their patients were house elves, who were both totally irrelevant to him and diagnostically speaking incredibly dull: most of their problems were self-inflicted.
In short, Dr. Cox was unbelievably bored. He had done his morning rounds; re-bandaged all of his patients and even re-intubated one just for the hell of it; owled JD about fifty times for absolutely no reason; and even taken on the unfortunate task of delivering one of their few human patients, who had popcorned during the night, down to the popcorn room. Now he was sitting at one of the desks, staring a huge mound of paperwork in the face and generally wanting to die... or possibly escape for a Days of Our Lives marathon.
A distraction, at this point, would be more than welcome.
((Open to ANYONE. Come bug Dr. Cox!))
The other big problem he had with the Hospital Wing was, the place was boring. Oh, Cox was thrilled that his patients no longer tended to die on him, to be sure, but the lack of death in the place threw up a huge wall when it came to actually learning anything. Plus, 90% of their patients were house elves, who were both totally irrelevant to him and diagnostically speaking incredibly dull: most of their problems were self-inflicted.
In short, Dr. Cox was unbelievably bored. He had done his morning rounds; re-bandaged all of his patients and even re-intubated one just for the hell of it; owled JD about fifty times for absolutely no reason; and even taken on the unfortunate task of delivering one of their few human patients, who had popcorned during the night, down to the popcorn room. Now he was sitting at one of the desks, staring a huge mound of paperwork in the face and generally wanting to die... or possibly escape for a Days of Our Lives marathon.
A distraction, at this point, would be more than welcome.
((Open to ANYONE. Come bug Dr. Cox!))