she walked into the clinic shivering, still not sure whether or not she wanted to go through with it. a nurse approached, her uniform so delicately pressed, all the creases in place. “can i help you, miss?” .. silence. could she help? could anyone help at this point? Carrie looked up. “I need a test.”
He sat in the clinic, worried about his health and lack of money and his daughter, all the time more concerned about catching something infectious from the other waiting patients.
a clinic in a hospital.
they make you feel better with whatever you have.
there is also softball clinincs.
and just plain sports clinics.
clinincs arwe wierd.
I sat in the car outside the veterinary clinic, waiting while my mother filled out necessary paperwork. My eyes were swollen from crying, and I couldn’t bear to look at the seat where my faithful pet had lain and spent her last few moments of life. There was still blood on the seat from where it had dripped from her mouth.
I was just released from the clinic, still in bandages. Someone opened the door for me, I walked down a single flight of stairs and into the busy sidewalk. As I hailed a cab
Waiting at the clinic, I feel like I’m going to catch something just in the waiting room. Everyone coughing around me, small children crying, old magazines on the desk. Oh the irony, of catching disease at the med clinic.
clinc? doctors, shit. hate them.
health? healing. cancer.
long days and horrible nights, hope, relief, addictions . . . what else is there?
doctors……this doesn’t take 60 seconds.
When I think of clinics I think of cean smells, fake smiles, forced laughs and oh so pleasurable atmosphere with absolutely no reality but healing. It’s a solid incarnation of everything the world is becoming.
Sitting in a smelly, plastic chair at the walk-in clinic, while babies cry around me and old people cough into their hands, I feel ridiculously out of place.
I shifted uncomfortably. These places always made me feel gross. Maybe I’d just come back later…
I sit and wait in the sterile prison.
Prison? Is that really how I see it?
I stare around at all the people lined up in chairs, at that one guy that sits there curled in on himself like he’s dead, the smell he emanates more than enough to keep people away. There’s a radius of three chairs all around him, where no one will sit.
There’s the mother, tired of the kid, tired of the wrong choices, sitting with a daughter no more than three, who screams and whines because she can’t play with that particular toy that that particular other kid happens to be holding.
somehow, a beligerent man like house is a great role model. there is something noble in him, something i want to have. i limp on my left leg. i think that’s an ok start. someday maybe i can scowl like him. maybe i can be that man.
the clinic is the place for experiments, the ones that reduce us to the moveable parts, the small things that make us what we are. the clinic is a sign of death i n life and should be avoided if possible
I walked in and noticed a long que filled with women and their infants. The clinic has to be my least favourite place to be. Stuffy, long ques, rude nurses and screaming babies. Does it get any worse?
the place i go when i am feeling ill or depressed and have to get prescription medication for it. this may hold implications for being crazy or having some mental disease or it may just say that you are not well. i have gone to a clinic many times in my life.
The clinic is small, annoying and ugly. I hate going there for my X-ray since the answer is always the same- “You’re fine.” At least now I don’t have to go anymore until December to see if I will get the metal out of my leg. I really don’t like the hospital in general actually as the fire alarm is ALWAYS off because of thier constant construction.
the last time i went to the clinic i thought i had a brain tumor. then the doctor said i smell sinisy. Sinisy? what does that mean? I’ve never sufffered from that in my whole life. He gave me a prescription for some drugs then as I was standing in the que thinking about my headache a guy called daniel was stearing at me. then I got my prescription and as I walked out of the clinic he followed me out, introduced himself and gave me his card. Since then I’ve been speaking to Daniel quite often. He is a nice, polite and quite guy. Not sure if I would date him though. I always seem to be attracted to loud outgoing people like myself. Oh well let’s see where this Daniel story goes.
Across the street rests the forgotten zone of the city’s most prominent abortion clinic. The zombies have not died down in the past ten years given that there is no one to kill these children of lust.
Driving to the clinic yesterday, I noticed the black car following me. It couldn’t be the long lost folks who were going to give me my inheriteance – the ones I thought would be doing so at 15 at 21 at 30. Now at 45, no big prize. And here I was, dying and nothing new except the slowly moving black car.
the aids clinic is a sickly place and i associate death and dying with that scene. the baskatball clinic… the health clinic… clinical work. clarical work… clinicate… coordinate…. collate… cynical… cyinist… clarick… clin clin… chambers… chant… kamelle works at the clinic… they have the best wings by her job for happy hour today.
I hate clinics. All you do all day is sit in a very uncomfortable chair and wait on someone who is probably either with a drug rep or is talking on the phone. And then when you finally do get called back they put you in a small room with no windows (very much like a prison cell) and you wait and wait.
I was at the clinic and there was a dog outside. He asked me if I had a biscuit. I told him no. He said what kind of patient are you? I said the stingy kind. He told me he was glad he wasn’t my doctor, and it just goes to show that they work for peanuts.
the clinic was a large white room with 65 walls and a nurse standing in one corner. I was nervous about my operation with chainsaws and my legs were due to be amputated slowly. i sat in the waiting room, shaking violently.
Clinic is a fantastic band. That is where I went first. The traditional clinic has a bad connotation. Those places are supposed to be sterile, but I always feel dirty whenever I leave a clinic or hospital and my can of Sunkist orange soda smelled like a hospital yesterday. I prefer the band Clinic. Rock!
I waited in line for my name to be called at theclinic. My heart racing my palms sweating. What had brought me to this point? Where had the carefree days I longed for gone. It was my turn, I quickly walked toward the receptionist. I wanted this job more than anything.
They share stories of accidents as children, tales of unlikely survival at a time when parents were less timorous about their kids and there whereabouts.
she walked into the clinic shivering, still not sure whether or not she wanted to go through with it. a nurse approached, her uniform so delicately pressed, all the creases in place. “can i help you, miss?” .. silence. could she help? could anyone help at this point? Carrie looked up. “I need a test.”
He sat in the clinic, worried about his health and lack of money and his daughter, all the time more concerned about catching something infectious from the other waiting patients.
addicts. to help each other. to disscuss. a center of healing.
a clinic in a hospital.
they make you feel better with whatever you have.
there is also softball clinincs.
and just plain sports clinics.
clinincs arwe wierd.
a animal clinic or a hunting camp and shooting deer and catching fish and turtles
free
learn
practice
a animal clinic or a hunting camp and shooting deer and catching fish and turtles
I sat in the car outside the veterinary clinic, waiting while my mother filled out necessary paperwork. My eyes were swollen from crying, and I couldn’t bear to look at the seat where my faithful pet had lain and spent her last few moments of life. There was still blood on the seat from where it had dripped from her mouth.
I was just released from the clinic, still in bandages. Someone opened the door for me, I walked down a single flight of stairs and into the busy sidewalk. As I hailed a cab
Waiting at the clinic, I feel like I’m going to catch something just in the waiting room. Everyone coughing around me, small children crying, old magazines on the desk. Oh the irony, of catching disease at the med clinic.
I blame the NHS.
clinc? doctors, shit. hate them.
health? healing. cancer.
long days and horrible nights, hope, relief, addictions . . . what else is there?
doctors……this doesn’t take 60 seconds.
When I think of clinics I think of cean smells, fake smiles, forced laughs and oh so pleasurable atmosphere with absolutely no reality but healing. It’s a solid incarnation of everything the world is becoming.
Sitting in a smelly, plastic chair at the walk-in clinic, while babies cry around me and old people cough into their hands, I feel ridiculously out of place.
I shifted uncomfortably. These places always made me feel gross. Maybe I’d just come back later…
the place where you go to visit the doctor
clean, emotionless, humourless.
illness, sadness, death, misery
sterile, sharp
I sit and wait in the sterile prison.
Prison? Is that really how I see it?
I stare around at all the people lined up in chairs, at that one guy that sits there curled in on himself like he’s dead, the smell he emanates more than enough to keep people away. There’s a radius of three chairs all around him, where no one will sit.
There’s the mother, tired of the kid, tired of the wrong choices, sitting with a daughter no more than three, who screams and whines because she can’t play with that particular toy that that particular other kid happens to be holding.
i have clinic duty. i wish, anyway.
somehow, a beligerent man like house is a great role model. there is something noble in him, something i want to have. i limp on my left leg. i think that’s an ok start. someday maybe i can scowl like him. maybe i can be that man.
maybe not.
the clinic is the place for experiments, the ones that reduce us to the moveable parts, the small things that make us what we are. the clinic is a sign of death i n life and should be avoided if possible
oh ow dont think I like clinics the smell the uniforms sickness and bad news get me outa here
I walked in and noticed a long que filled with women and their infants. The clinic has to be my least favourite place to be. Stuffy, long ques, rude nurses and screaming babies. Does it get any worse?
the place i go when i am feeling ill or depressed and have to get prescription medication for it. this may hold implications for being crazy or having some mental disease or it may just say that you are not well. i have gone to a clinic many times in my life.
The clinic is small, annoying and ugly. I hate going there for my X-ray since the answer is always the same- “You’re fine.” At least now I don’t have to go anymore until December to see if I will get the metal out of my leg. I really don’t like the hospital in general actually as the fire alarm is ALWAYS off because of thier constant construction.
the last time i went to the clinic i thought i had a brain tumor. then the doctor said i smell sinisy. Sinisy? what does that mean? I’ve never sufffered from that in my whole life. He gave me a prescription for some drugs then as I was standing in the que thinking about my headache a guy called daniel was stearing at me. then I got my prescription and as I walked out of the clinic he followed me out, introduced himself and gave me his card. Since then I’ve been speaking to Daniel quite often. He is a nice, polite and quite guy. Not sure if I would date him though. I always seem to be attracted to loud outgoing people like myself. Oh well let’s see where this Daniel story goes.
I hate the clinic.
It always have that
sickening smell of medicine
and sometimes even death.
I think I could have just died
inside should the doctor ever
announced that I have some
kind of incurable disease.
it’s a dreadful place for some. it would be for me.
although it would totally suit my usual mood – gloomy. yeah clinics are gloomy.
He struggled across the sand, his feet slipping and sliding, his balance precarious, his only hope, reaching the clinic in time.
Across the street rests the forgotten zone of the city’s most prominent abortion clinic. The zombies have not died down in the past ten years given that there is no one to kill these children of lust.
Driving to the clinic yesterday, I noticed the black car following me. It couldn’t be the long lost folks who were going to give me my inheriteance – the ones I thought would be doing so at 15 at 21 at 30. Now at 45, no big prize. And here I was, dying and nothing new except the slowly moving black car.
the aids clinic is a sickly place and i associate death and dying with that scene. the baskatball clinic… the health clinic… clinical work. clarical work… clinicate… coordinate…. collate… cynical… cyinist… clarick… clin clin… chambers… chant… kamelle works at the clinic… they have the best wings by her job for happy hour today.
I hate clinics. All you do all day is sit in a very uncomfortable chair and wait on someone who is probably either with a drug rep or is talking on the phone. And then when you finally do get called back they put you in a small room with no windows (very much like a prison cell) and you wait and wait.
hospital clinic = goodness for people…<3
I was at the clinic and there was a dog outside. He asked me if I had a biscuit. I told him no. He said what kind of patient are you? I said the stingy kind. He told me he was glad he wasn’t my doctor, and it just goes to show that they work for peanuts.
A bizarre place designed for a multitude of different circumstances whether it be illness, pregnancy or whatever jolly malady you have incurred.
the clinic was a large white room with 65 walls and a nurse standing in one corner. I was nervous about my operation with chainsaws and my legs were due to be amputated slowly. i sat in the waiting room, shaking violently.
Clinic is a fantastic band. That is where I went first. The traditional clinic has a bad connotation. Those places are supposed to be sterile, but I always feel dirty whenever I leave a clinic or hospital and my can of Sunkist orange soda smelled like a hospital yesterday. I prefer the band Clinic. Rock!
sexual health, cold walls, green, nurses in uniform, sterile smell, metal instuments, clinking, mouth masks, bad news, good news, babies, crying.
I waited in line for my name to be called at theclinic. My heart racing my palms sweating. What had brought me to this point? Where had the carefree days I longed for gone. It was my turn, I quickly walked toward the receptionist. I wanted this job more than anything.
They share stories of accidents as children, tales of unlikely survival at a time when parents were less timorous about their kids and there whereabouts.
a taarrable place! with medasien.i hate it
clinic too many white for such a woed i bet spock could have give a good stream of word here, ah spock, spock in a clinic, nahh it cannot happen.
cold. sterile. alone. the night’s memories were slow to return to my not so hungover as unbelieving head.