The clinic is where they bring the crazy people who live down on the east side of town, by the docks. They found lots of heavy metals in their systems’ due to the pollution in the water from runoff at the chemical plant.
Oh god, the smell of sterile needles and cotton pads and iodine. I don’t have health insurance. If I’m at a clinic it’s a cramped, crowded free clinic. Or else I’m paying at least $100 for some visit I didn’t want to make in the first place. I hope I get a decent painkiller prescription out of it. I just want to go home. I also want a nice cool beverage. I want to feel healthy. It’s better than an ER, at least.
clinic. static. where did yu go. gone. away. acorss the world. to get away from me or stay? come back. you belong here. with me. we’ll go away . together. take me with you. are lives will intersect and become one.
I wish there was a clinic to mend broken hearts off their unfulfilled yearnings.. Now isn’t that something everyone needs urgently?? A clinic to replenish the passion and heal a cracked heart to want and dream again.. for jobs, for soul mates, for friends, for careers, for lost ones, for lost things, for countless other important things.. to reawaken the drive to live again..
the clinic is not such a great place to have to go on a weekend morning. Why is this you may ask? It is certainly a drudging task and one that is both cumbersome and debilitating. Why you may ask again? I don’t know, why don’t you tell me! But then again you are the one asking the question and I am just here to answer it
what the hells the point. your either sick enough where you need to go to a hospital, or your fine enough to take an over the counter pain pill & become HEALTHY again.
i dont see the point of paying to walk into a clinic. unless its a clinic at a school & they can give you permission to go home :)
“Get your keys, we’re going to the clinic”
“Let me live my own life! I’ll go when I’m ready and not a moment sooner.”
“This is your life we’re talking about..”
“Yes and it’s MINE! I’ll do what I want with it”
i hate it so much there. it makes me cringe\. they make you wait and give you shots and just take all my money and insurance blows total asshole. i hate everything about it. the doctors look sleazy and wanna touch up on ma boobs and tell me i need depression meds and that i don’t need an obgyn that they can do those exams. money hungry.. greedy
The scientist looked over the dead bodies with a clinical glance. Emotionless. Uncaring about the excruciating pain all the subjects had suffered in the name of scientific progress and innovation. After all, their pain had resulted in the cure for various illnesses. Was their suffering such a significant matter by comparison?
I’m going to put on a clinic for those in search of brevity. That’s right it’s school time and the bell is ringing. So sit back, read and learn. Clinic also makes me think of the cool band Clinic that wears surgical gear on stage.
Clinic is a groovy rock band. They dress up as if they worked in a clinic for live shows. You should buy their albums. Although they are supposed to be places of healing, I find real clinics make me feel dirty and have a creepy smell.
Plastic gloves, bodily secretions in tubes, lists, and your backstory taken in a building where the Creator nibbles at people, where life submerges slowly despite all the good intentions, and where the receptionist still hums a love tune.
A goblin went to a clinic and wet him/herself while filling in a questionaire. WahooO! Goblins. He then watched a movie. Lol, he thought. My sixty seconds are RUNNING OUT. AHHH! Bye!
The time just drew on, I waited forever in the lobby of the clinic. This is one of the many things I despise about seeing the dr. You drop by and three hours later you’re sent home with tylonal or placebos! …
I hate going to the clinic. The smell of alcohos and unwashed people. The smell of sickness. The interminable waiting…the inane questions asked over and over again by every person in the medical profession with whom you come in contact. All in all the clinic is an illness farm. I don’t ever want to to. I want to go back to the day s of family doctors.
every time I go to the clinic it somehow seems to become a part of me like some clutching hypodermic foraging under my skin. my body physically rejects it like some cold metallic implant in the warmth of my human flesh, the complete inability to reconcile such a place with my humanity.
An illness is horrible and a Clinic is where I’ll go to mend my health back. Interestingly clinics are well, clean and they smell of anti bacteria soap things. GPs and attendants work there.
I marched into the clinic, determined to get an answer. Whatever this bulge was on my daughter’s leg, someone has got to fix it.
We sit in the cold room as I cradle her in my arms, protecting her from all the things in the jars she’s uncomfortable with thinking about being prodded with.
The doctor’s office smelled of green ooze that dripped from the noses of little kids too lethargic for running and screaming. The adults blew they noses into pink hankies and put on their gas masks once more.
He had grown tired of visiting the clinic repeatedly since he found out that the cancer had spread. It was getting tiring, emotionally and physically, for him to see his wife wasting away and waiting for her death to come. They had been married twenty years, he couldn’t help but feel upset by this misfortune. He knew he had to come to terms with it, but it was proving to be hard.
He was tired. He had been up for countless hours, staring st the TV above the chairs. He decided to wander into the parking lot , just to move. Outside the clinic, he heard a loud bang in the distance, and he barely turned in its direction. “That,” he thought, “is that.” And it was.
With sweaty palms and ragged breath I tremble in my sculpted plastic seat. I fear the news I await is that of which nightmares are born. Why else would they insist I appear in person? Why else would a phone call not suffice? I close my eyes in agony. Raging diseases ravaging ones body. Bloated stomachs. Glassy eyes. I am the living dead walking among you.
The clinic is a cold, sticky and white place. I picture men and women roaming in white jackets and smiling fakely at the “diseased” people who come in. Of course it really isn’t like that at all – it’s filled with friendly receptionists and tolerable, although painful procedures.
I bang my fists on the door crying
“LET ME OUT” but they don’t care, not at this ‘clinic’. They watch me with smirks as I plead them to let us go home to my family. Nurse Robinson comes up to the door and cups her ear. We shout louder but she shrugs and walks away.
“WE’RE NOT CRAZY, LET US GO!!!!!”
We start banging the walls again making as much noise as possible. It’s hopeless. We’re never going to get out. We’ll be here forever. In this white room that is our hell.
white and antiseptic
the patients wait for their turn in the cold little rooms, clad in paper gowns with their naked and vulnerable butts cold on the barely protected by paper sheeting metal table.
unmistakeable scent of alcohol and disinfectant overlying the suble aroma of sick.
when will it be my turn?
a place that a person would go if they needed something. Like a convenience store but more personal. Also sounds like mimic, but doesn’t necessarily rhyme. I once knew a man by the name Matthew Clynic, a bit of a cynic but a good guy. That’s all I’ve got.
this is a place where people go to get help. i don’t much like the sound of the word, it’s very sterile and uninteresting. it takes a certain person to work in a clinic. one who doesn’t mind sick people and always being on
I was in a clinic, the lights were dim, the air was full of the stench of death and disease, as i fumbled my way across the aisle, I saw the look on the face of a woman in complete agony. I stood, staring at her face and said nothing, my mind unable to fully comprehend the gravity and devastation of this epidemic..
In a white dress I imagine I would like to see you. Cooking eggs and cleaning needles, asking me for a raise. A raise, a raise I have in my pants and you have those pretty lips.
i had to go to the abortion clinic to get rid of the fetus in my womb. Last night I had sex with a guy in a gas station. He was dirty. We didnt have a condom;. It made me feel beautifil. Now I have his seed growing in my vagina. He refuses to help me. Hes going to leave me in the cold.
I often wonder why Zhi doesn’t do clinical research but stays here for a postdoc. Isn’t there much more money to be made being a doctor? And he IS a doctor. It’s time I figure out whether I want to go that route or not.
this is where you go when you’re sick. You spend a lot of time there if you’re like me and you get sick all the time. Or your knees hurt. There’s something wrong all the time. I could go there now, I think I have something else wrong with me. It’s about time that i go back I have to get my prescriptions renewed. It’s like keeping yourself healthy is difficult.
It was dawn, as the patients in the clinic began come in by the dozens. They were all affected by the disease that has been sweeping the area.
The clinic is where they bring the crazy people who live down on the east side of town, by the docks. They found lots of heavy metals in their systems’ due to the pollution in the water from runoff at the chemical plant.
Oh god, the smell of sterile needles and cotton pads and iodine. I don’t have health insurance. If I’m at a clinic it’s a cramped, crowded free clinic. Or else I’m paying at least $100 for some visit I didn’t want to make in the first place. I hope I get a decent painkiller prescription out of it. I just want to go home. I also want a nice cool beverage. I want to feel healthy. It’s better than an ER, at least.
clinic. static. where did yu go. gone. away. acorss the world. to get away from me or stay? come back. you belong here. with me. we’ll go away . together. take me with you. are lives will intersect and become one.
I wish there was a clinic to mend broken hearts off their unfulfilled yearnings.. Now isn’t that something everyone needs urgently?? A clinic to replenish the passion and heal a cracked heart to want and dream again.. for jobs, for soul mates, for friends, for careers, for lost ones, for lost things, for countless other important things.. to reawaken the drive to live again..
clinic… i hate the word… the smell of medicines makes me more sick… can’t think of anything else to write about clinic… lol…
the clinic is not such a great place to have to go on a weekend morning. Why is this you may ask? It is certainly a drudging task and one that is both cumbersome and debilitating. Why you may ask again? I don’t know, why don’t you tell me! But then again you are the one asking the question and I am just here to answer it
what the hells the point. your either sick enough where you need to go to a hospital, or your fine enough to take an over the counter pain pill & become HEALTHY again.
i dont see the point of paying to walk into a clinic. unless its a clinic at a school & they can give you permission to go home :)
“Get your keys, we’re going to the clinic”
“Let me live my own life! I’ll go when I’m ready and not a moment sooner.”
“This is your life we’re talking about..”
“Yes and it’s MINE! I’ll do what I want with it”
i hate it so much there. it makes me cringe\. they make you wait and give you shots and just take all my money and insurance blows total asshole. i hate everything about it. the doctors look sleazy and wanna touch up on ma boobs and tell me i need depression meds and that i don’t need an obgyn that they can do those exams. money hungry.. greedy
The scientist looked over the dead bodies with a clinical glance. Emotionless. Uncaring about the excruciating pain all the subjects had suffered in the name of scientific progress and innovation. After all, their pain had resulted in the cure for various illnesses. Was their suffering such a significant matter by comparison?
herpes, death, rubber, white, pee, blood.
I’m going to put on a clinic for those in search of brevity. That’s right it’s school time and the bell is ringing. So sit back, read and learn. Clinic also makes me think of the cool band Clinic that wears surgical gear on stage.
Clinic is a groovy rock band. They dress up as if they worked in a clinic for live shows. You should buy their albums. Although they are supposed to be places of healing, I find real clinics make me feel dirty and have a creepy smell.
Plastic gloves, bodily secretions in tubes, lists, and your backstory taken in a building where the Creator nibbles at people, where life submerges slowly despite all the good intentions, and where the receptionist still hums a love tune.
A goblin went to a clinic and wet him/herself while filling in a questionaire. WahooO! Goblins. He then watched a movie. Lol, he thought. My sixty seconds are RUNNING OUT. AHHH! Bye!
The time just drew on, I waited forever in the lobby of the clinic. This is one of the many things I despise about seeing the dr. You drop by and three hours later you’re sent home with tylonal or placebos! …
I hate going to the clinic. The smell of alcohos and unwashed people. The smell of sickness. The interminable waiting…the inane questions asked over and over again by every person in the medical profession with whom you come in contact. All in all the clinic is an illness farm. I don’t ever want to to. I want to go back to the day s of family doctors.
every time I go to the clinic it somehow seems to become a part of me like some clutching hypodermic foraging under my skin. my body physically rejects it like some cold metallic implant in the warmth of my human flesh, the complete inability to reconcile such a place with my humanity.
An illness is horrible and a Clinic is where I’ll go to mend my health back. Interestingly clinics are well, clean and they smell of anti bacteria soap things. GPs and attendants work there.
OMG CLINIC… REMINDS ME OF TODAY ZOMG PHOTO..
K HAHAHAAH MY MOM NAGGING I GTG NOW, HAHAHA GOODNIGHT INTERNET PEOPLE.
I marched into the clinic, determined to get an answer. Whatever this bulge was on my daughter’s leg, someone has got to fix it.
We sit in the cold room as I cradle her in my arms, protecting her from all the things in the jars she’s uncomfortable with thinking about being prodded with.
The doctor’s office smelled of green ooze that dripped from the noses of little kids too lethargic for running and screaming. The adults blew they noses into pink hankies and put on their gas masks once more.
a doctors clinic?
idk, ummmm….
gross,
smells like rubbing alchohol.
im at the rehab clininc to much,
they treat me like a princess.
cold clammy floors,
made of tiles.
cots that feel like stone.
pillows made of paper.
it is something that helps you wneh you are sick and not as sick as to go to a hospital
He had grown tired of visiting the clinic repeatedly since he found out that the cancer had spread. It was getting tiring, emotionally and physically, for him to see his wife wasting away and waiting for her death to come. They had been married twenty years, he couldn’t help but feel upset by this misfortune. He knew he had to come to terms with it, but it was proving to be hard.
He was tired. He had been up for countless hours, staring st the TV above the chairs. He decided to wander into the parking lot , just to move. Outside the clinic, he heard a loud bang in the distance, and he barely turned in its direction. “That,” he thought, “is that.” And it was.
I remember when a guy I worked with had to go to the meth clinic next to my house and he picked me up everyday because I had a DUI. What a great job.
With sweaty palms and ragged breath I tremble in my sculpted plastic seat. I fear the news I await is that of which nightmares are born. Why else would they insist I appear in person? Why else would a phone call not suffice? I close my eyes in agony. Raging diseases ravaging ones body. Bloated stomachs. Glassy eyes. I am the living dead walking among you.
The clinic is a cold, sticky and white place. I picture men and women roaming in white jackets and smiling fakely at the “diseased” people who come in. Of course it really isn’t like that at all – it’s filled with friendly receptionists and tolerable, although painful procedures.
I bang my fists on the door crying
“LET ME OUT” but they don’t care, not at this ‘clinic’. They watch me with smirks as I plead them to let us go home to my family. Nurse Robinson comes up to the door and cups her ear. We shout louder but she shrugs and walks away.
“WE’RE NOT CRAZY, LET US GO!!!!!”
We start banging the walls again making as much noise as possible. It’s hopeless. We’re never going to get out. We’ll be here forever. In this white room that is our hell.
white and antiseptic
the patients wait for their turn in the cold little rooms, clad in paper gowns with their naked and vulnerable butts cold on the barely protected by paper sheeting metal table.
unmistakeable scent of alcohol and disinfectant overlying the suble aroma of sick.
when will it be my turn?
a place that a person would go if they needed something. Like a convenience store but more personal. Also sounds like mimic, but doesn’t necessarily rhyme. I once knew a man by the name Matthew Clynic, a bit of a cynic but a good guy. That’s all I’ve got.
this is a place where people go to get help. i don’t much like the sound of the word, it’s very sterile and uninteresting. it takes a certain person to work in a clinic. one who doesn’t mind sick people and always being on
I was in a clinic, the lights were dim, the air was full of the stench of death and disease, as i fumbled my way across the aisle, I saw the look on the face of a woman in complete agony. I stood, staring at her face and said nothing, my mind unable to fully comprehend the gravity and devastation of this epidemic..
In a white dress I imagine I would like to see you. Cooking eggs and cleaning needles, asking me for a raise. A raise, a raise I have in my pants and you have those pretty lips.
The Rockets ran a clinic on the Lakers last night..
i had to go to the abortion clinic to get rid of the fetus in my womb. Last night I had sex with a guy in a gas station. He was dirty. We didnt have a condom;. It made me feel beautifil. Now I have his seed growing in my vagina. He refuses to help me. Hes going to leave me in the cold.
I often wonder why Zhi doesn’t do clinical research but stays here for a postdoc. Isn’t there much more money to be made being a doctor? And he IS a doctor. It’s time I figure out whether I want to go that route or not.
this is where you go when you’re sick. You spend a lot of time there if you’re like me and you get sick all the time. Or your knees hurt. There’s something wrong all the time. I could go there now, I think I have something else wrong with me. It’s about time that i go back I have to get my prescriptions renewed. It’s like keeping yourself healthy is difficult.