- Lisa
- Richard
- Lizzie
- Serendipidy
- Norval Joe
- Tom
- Planet Z
TOM
Hope Rises
They called it the clinic. The oldest would quip it use-to-be a department store. It mattered little because the medical corporation that ran it was long gone. And nothing matching that level of business structure was present north of the golden gate. We were on our own. The handful of providers that were able to scale down to the bone and still provide had a near saintly aura about them. My wife was the pillar that held it all together. When she spoke her truth people put their faith in her judgement. With little hope in sight the clinic is.
NORVAL JOE
After they had showered, dressed, and eaten breakfast, the three headed off to school, all wearing loosely fitting hoodies and blue jeans.
When Billbert and Sabrina turned onto the street toward the school, Linoliamanda continued across toward the hospital’s outpatient clinic.
“Mandi,” Billbert called. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to see my dad. I haven’t been to school in a week. I’m sure no one’s going to miss me,” she said and continued on.
Billbert waited and watched her go until Sabrina pulled on his gray sweatshirt. “Come on Billbert. Mindi’s right. I know that I won’t miss her.”
LISA
Breaking the Ice
Valentines Day. Traditionally a romantic day for couples everywhere. Sally and Bob both liked each other but got tongue tied whenever they met so had actually never spoken. Fate intervened. It was a special day at their Doctors Surgery too – the annual Mole and Wart Removal Clinic.
Most patients were treated in the waiting room and only more intimate areas were ‘done’ in a private room. So, skin tags were removed from necks, moles from bald heads and soon only Sally and Bob remained in the waiting room. They exchanged nervous glances before Sally stammered
“D’you fancy a coffee after?”
SERENDIPIDY
It’s known simply as ‘The Clinic’
Apparently the term is supposed to normalise the place and its purpose: Promote the idea that it’s really no different to taking a trip to the fertility clinic, the hair loss clinic or any one of a myriad of other medical specialisations.
They send you an appointment, and you pop in for a quick consultation with an expert.
There’s nothing particularly intimidating, scary or unusual about that.
Except this isn’t that sort of clinic.
When you check in to this clinic, you’re not going to be checking back out again.
Anyway… welcome, to Switzerland.
LIZZIE
The toy clinic was closed. What now? The child looked at her mother with anguish. The mother knocked at the door feverishly until a light came on. What is it, we’re closed. They knew, but… and the mother pointed at her child, a broken toy cradled in her arms. OK, let’s do this. And the toy was put back together, slowly, with care. Years later, the child, now an adult, heard someone knocking feverishly. She turned the light on and opened the door. Let’s do this. Everything will be OK. And another mother, another child, another toy could breathe again.
RICHARD
— Sample —
The call to come in to the clinic was unexpected. I had no idea why I was there because there were a range of problems I’d been seeing my doctor about for the past few months.
It must be connected with one of them, but the question was, what exactly?
Too busy to talk, a nurse ushered me into a room, thrust a plastic pot into my hand and told me to leave my sample at reception, then rushed off.
A sample? Of what? Urine, sperm, saliva, stool?
I filled the pot with the dregs of my coffee, and left.
PLANET Z
My doctor can be hard to set an appointment for sometimes, so I walk into the nearby urgent care clinic for minor things.
In and out, McHospital to the rescue.
My cat chewed up my leg and hand, and I was given antibiotics.
My fireplace rained soot into my eye, and I got eye drops and a tube of goop to wash it out.
Then there was the time I had chest pains.
They hooked me to an EKG and said my heart was fine, it was just a pinched nerve.
A pocket full of pills and a heating pad.