Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.
This is Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic: PATIENT
We’ve got stories by:
- Lady Blue
- John Musico
- Anima Zabaleta
- Dionysis Clowes
- Tura Brezoianu
- Norval Joe
- Planet Z
The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of NEW JERSEY. Scroll up and click on Weekly Challenge to learn how to join us!
The Blind O
She possessed an X-ray gaze and spoke in a nonsense tongue that made people very angry. They hated how she looked at them; it was unsettling. On the inside, she was already an abomination, so they admitted her.
Patient 29 now lived in a white box. She was slowly recovering from a laryngectomy. Her eyes had been scooped out of her head, and they severed her spine so that she would not injure herself. Feeding tubes and catheters kept her healthy.
Once a day, a priest would come and give her religion. They said it would rehabilitate her soul.
by John Musico
Why do doctors call people their “patients”?
First off, why convert individuals into a group: doctors and all the other mere mortals?
The white cape goes with this superhero theory. It’s really a lab coat- for techs against chemical splashes. The closest thing to getting splashed for a physician is someone sneezing on them.
But why choose “patients” specifically? Is it because doctors are trying to offset the expectation that patients will be imposed with circumstances expected to make them impatient, but heck, they’re “patients”, so it’s fine. The common line; “You’ll just have to be patient” favors this theory.
by Jeffrey Fischer
Janice gamely auditioned for off-Broadway musicals every chance she had, but her hearing wasn’t what it used to be. That created some unfortunate mix-ups in singing lyrics. For a torch song version of “Purple Haze,” she insisted the line was “‘Scuse me while I kiss this pie.” After the third time, the producer told her that he’d been patient, but she was done. As she tearfully packed her things, he added, “Oh, and it’s ‘while I kiss the sky,’ not ‘this pie.'”
Janice stopped what she was doing and replied, “Why, that’s just silly. Why would anyone try to kiss the sky?”
The producer carefully looked at Janice. “Wait a minute, you’ve auditioned for me before. You’re the one who insisted that Whitney Houston was singing, ”Cuz I’m shaving off my muff for you,’ aren’t you?”
Her parting words were: “Well, it makes more sense than what you claim she sang.”
A Fine Whine
by Jeffrey Fischer
Helping to treat Ebola patients in Africa is a noble endeavor, but normal people think it a good idea to quarantine anyone who comes into contact with the virus and shows symptoms of the disease. Not so the Ebola Nurse, who whined that she shouldn’t be quarantined, that this was just like rounding up the Japanese during World War II, failing to appreciate the distinction between the two incidents.
When the Ebola Nurse left New Jersey, heading for Maine, she whined about the publicity she was getting, failing to notice that she brought the news cameras on herself.
Then she whined that she didn’t want to be known as the Ebola Nurse, as she never had Ebola. Not a problem, the press responded, and dubbed her the Whiny Nurse.
#1 – George’s Story – Part 84: Candidate
It took twenty minutes of rubbing his sore toes and numb shoulder before George could take in his new surroundings, which were frankly disappointing.
The room was small and uninteresting: just a desk, chair and a computer. A cardboard wallet lay on the desk.
Written neatly on the wallet’s flap, the words ‘Beta Project – Candidates’, and inside a single sheet of paper: a list of names – including Georges’ – each with a corresponding candidate number.
George was confused – if this was a hospital why was he a candidate, and not a patient?
And what exactly was the meaning of the list?
#2 – Be patient
This is one of those stories you have to stick with, although it’s hard going.
Just a slow-burning plot that hides the final outcome until the very end.
It’s the sort of story that you wish you’d never started, but once you have, you can’t bring yourself to put it down… you simply have to know how it works out.
Chapter by chapter.
Page by page.
Line by line… right through to the bitter end.
Nearly there now.
Don’t get your hopes up – the clever twist, the surprise ending, is coming.
Just be patient.
Being impatient has saved me from trouble several times and throughout my life I never looked at it as something negative. Once I started being told to be patient, I became very suspicious of this new demand. They say patience is a virtue, true. However, impatience solves problems. Torn between one and the other, I decided to take turns, Monday – patience, Tuesday – impatience, Wednesday – patience, and so on. The day I met him was, unfortunately, a Thursday. Without being asked for an opinion, he said my dress had an awkward color and I kicked him in the… well, never mind.
Each year it got worse: music; crowds; runny nosed kids; mandatory insincere
greetings of strangers; those bells ringing and ringing.
Every time a damned bell rings it’s Black Friday selling another soul at
sixty percent off.
Yeah, this year I snapped.
I stripped in the middle of the food court, leapt onto that table, kicked
over little Timmy’s fake Christmas pudding in the green and red neon plastic
tub and shouted out for all to hear: “Show me Clarence, where is my
Yeah, gonna quit my job in retail. as soon as they let me outta this
(Music: “Sugar Plum Dark Mix” by Kevin MacLeod / incompetech.com / composed
by Pyotr Illyich Tchaikovsky)
By Christopher Munroe
I’ll wait for you, love, for as long as it takes. Because you matter to me, more than I can possibly say, and when somebody matters to you you’re willing to give them all the time they might possibly need…
Are you ready?
That’s totally okay, I respect your need for time, for space, and I’ll wait as long as it takes. Until the end of time, if need be. Because you, my love, are worth the wait.
How ‘bout now?
I’m willing to wait.
I have the patience of a saint…
Seems like I’ve been waiting forever for this movie. The one sequel anyone really ever wanted. You might think Star Wars Episode 7 but No, I saw Episode 1 so will not even think about Episode 7 because I’m saving my heartbreaking disappointment for the day it is in the theater. I am waiting for “Spaceballs 2: The Search for More Money” or “Spaceballs 3: The Search for Spaceballs 2”, whichever comes first. Likely, it will be just my luck that the movie will be good but will not be in theaters like Odd Thomas or Equestria Girls: Rainbow Rocks”
I have this thing about lists.
To-do lists; packing lists; grocery lists; Christmas card lists.
I am still working on my revenge list. Those folks who have wronged me and my family. The teacher who humiliated my son; she is going to find her tires flattened next week.
Those losers who did not friend me. Their personal information is being passed on to the North Koreans.
And at the top of the list – This doctor who is making me wait. I haven’t figured out what it will be, but he won’t have to wait as long as I have today.
Ben Franklin recommended older mistresses because they are more grateful — but patient?
Candace, for example, was impatient to move to the next level when she first met Ray, which to her meant a partner for the rest of her life. She was extremely patient, he thought, with his erections, which often took their time. He saw this as a reflection of her impatience for commitment.
The younger women he met were patient (actually indifferent) with their long-term prospects but more often impatient with his equipment.
The older women said Ray found indifference reassuring because he couldn’t commit.
All the women resented the word mistress.
Finding the Thread
Trager was known on occasion to stop in mid-stride or mid-sentence without warning. Why?
For Block this was an issue. Block thought on his feet. Block was always two sentences or two steps ahead of himself. Block was impatient. Don’t ask Block why, he thinks you already know the answer.
Come on, Trager, Block would say, just keep it rolling. Follow me. DON’T follow me!
Trager would deliberate. Where is this leading?
When Block fell off the edge of the world, Trager stopped. Trager watched him go. Why? To find the thread, Trager said.
Block fell like someone who knows what he’s doing.
My mother always told my father he needed patient. He suffered from chronic constipation. Perhaps it was even congenital. They watched me anxiously through my younger years, without patient, and though I rarely suffered the paternal affliction, a few rare occasions were the object of intense scrutiny, amounting to a parental pressure that I now blame for everything.
My father’s constipation was continuous, however, and my mother always gave the same advice: Now, patient, she would say, and remember patient is the great thing, and above all things else we must avoid anything like being or becoming out of patient.
“Patience” goddammit, he would shout. It’s “patience”!
“Time of death, eight fifteen”
“Excuse me, doctor”, I interrupted, “the patient isn’t dead!”
He stared at me strangely; “You’re new here, aren’t you?
Why do you think we’re the best hospital in the area? Let the patient die, without any messing about, and you save time and money… you need fewer and less qualified staff, cheaper equipment and those waiting lists are practically non-existent!”
I was shocked: “What about medical ethics?” I countered, “And duty of care?”
“Why should we care, if the patient doesn’t?” He responded.
“But of course he does!” I argued.
“Not for much longer, nurse!”
For years I have heard of the maladapted behavior of Gail’s patients. In keeping with hippaa these near rants were liberally peppered with X did this and Y did that. It is my humble opinion patients are not patient. But every once in a while one of her clients says something just flat out amusing. The following actually occurred. During a general interview the question of sexual activity came up. The dear woman thought for a moment and told Gail she was not, but her husband was.” It took all her best FNP affect to keep from laughing out loud.
A Well Defined Relationship Part 77
Mother was welcomed into the little community while awaiting her son and the Doctor. She set up a class in business practices for the younger woman of the community. The Rev Morehouse found room in the rectory of Our Lady of Perpetual Motion in return for getting the books of the church in order. On Sunday afternoon she and Sockbe would fire off a few 1000s rounds in the high desert “Mrs Parsons if we’d had your gun at Ricker’s Ridge the war would have gone quite differently.” “You do know the Commanding Officer on that ridge?” “Yes Mrs. Parsons.”
A Well Defined Relationship Part 78
“I miss him so horribly Rev Sockbe.”
“You will forgive me for not sharing your sentiment.”
“Of course how rude of me.”
“No Mrs. Parsons I should not have been so frank. Living in the outback tends to strip away social conventions. Further you don’t know how I became aquatinted with your late husband. As I recall the subject was cranberries.”
“We were so full of ourselves in the court of the Emperor.”
The Rev lower to the ground and propped his gun against a log. Gazing cross the horizon he crossed the decades to the days of his youth.
A Well Defined Relationship Part 79
I was a shiny new cadet at the academy and Lancer Parsons was a year ahead of me. Dueling was all the rage in those peaceful days. At a Thanksgiving dinner an argument broke out over the etymology of craneberries. Your husband refused to yield the floor. Foolishly I pointed out it server the company best to devour the sauce of our discontent. Rancorous laugher and table thumbing insued. Lancer Parsons somewhat unhinged removed a shoe and let it fall in my mashed potatoes. Not to be out done I removed one of my own and dropped it in same potatoes.
The Thing in the Hill crawled through the dank tunnels. It peered out over an empty hillside. Rain fell in zinc sheets. As always. It crawled back inside and searched for a toad to eat.
* * *
It sat against the wall, chewing on something that had wriggled under its foot and was now wriggling in its mouth.
* * *
The thing that had wriggled in its mouth was now wriggling in its stomach. It tickled. It hated when it did that.
* * *
It sat for a while longer.
* * *
It was a very patient Thing.
* * *
Time dripped from the roof and oozed down the walls.
(Ack to freesfx.co.uk and freesound.org for dank, damp sound effects.)
The dealer carefully bent up one corner of his hidden card. The stony expression never leaving his face, he looked to the Crazy Cat Lady. Her cards, face up, showed queen and eight. She waved her hand over them and the dealer turned to Dergle.
Nine and three. Dergle tapped his finger next to his cards and the dealer turned over another three.
“Sixteen,” Dergle sighed.
“You have to hit on a sixteen, Wiener Dog Man.” Superconductor said.
“Be patient. I’m thinking.” Dergle said.
“Okay,” Dergle said, tapping the table. “Give me a five.”
The dealer turned over an ace.
irst Virtual Hospital scans every patient that comes into the hospital to create a virtual profile.
Then, we run that virtual profile through every diagnostic available to determine what is wrong with them.
That results in a list of proposed treatments, the risks of each procedure, and the costs.
Their insurance company gets that report, and determines what the patient is covered for.
After that, the lawyers review the malpractice risks involved with each procedure.
Finally, the doctor practices discussing the options available with the virtual patient.
“You’re perfectly fine,” says the doctor. “Nothing to worry about.”
The administrators grin.