THe clinic’s office… uhhg. It smells… the humidity in the air, the warm clingy medical type… I can feel my skin whithering under it, like I’ve aged a good 30 years or so by standing in this damn place with my skin exposed.
It’s gross.
I don’t even trust the hand sanitizers…
The bathroom… ehh, I suppose I could learn to trust them.
i have one item on my bucket list. it is to throw eggs at the people who stand outside of abortion clinics waving crazy signs, protesting and harassing women.
teenagers give birth its stupid cus they’re not even old enough their jock boyfriends are stupid and dont want to take care of the child so the girl goes to the clinic by herself and gets an abortion and ruins her entire life another jock comes along and does the same thing to her knocks her up
The clinic is an awful place to be. I had to go to a clinic over the weekend because I had a cyst on my face and it wasn’t serious enough to go to the hospital and the doctor’s office was closed.
She had chicken pox so I brought her to the clinic. Lots of lumps on her skin, and I didn’t think she looked good anymore. That was the moment I realized I wanted to dump Christine.
medical. medic. sick people and dying people and healing people and being ill. vomit. and aching and pain and crying and pain. aids and victims and blood. choking and dying and coughing and bile.
I went to the doctor’s. I wish I didn’t go because now I’m just nervous. Is there anything to even be concerned about? I’m not sure. I’m really not sure. Of all the words to pop up today, clinic? Really? Why? I don’t want to think about it. It’s my best tactic. Just ignore :) I wish it would actually accomplish something!
I hate going to the clinic. The doctors always ask me questions that they should already know the answer to. It’s even worse on rainy days for some reason, it just seems as if everyone is more
I went to the clinic yesterday because my balls where iching. They told me i had to get this cream stuff and shave all my pubes off. I went and bout it at this OTHER clinic and went home to try it out. HOlY SHIT what a pain in the ass to have to shave ur pubes. I dont know how girls do it all the time. I mean they dont have balls to go around or n e thing, but still.
Perhaps the doctors were realy aliens sent to make me run around like some rat from a burning ship; my disgusting rat tail lagging slowly behind me. I was not sent here to get better like the sad nurse st the desk said.
Perhaps I am here to die in a shallow place and hear the dirt like acme anvils falling from outer space. Either way these people aren’t here to save me. This clinic is not for the insane but rather the perfectly sane who hold to the fact that there is something seriously wrong with the world. They think I’m crazy just because I’m incapable of paying bulls, because i can’t stand small talk, and because I get angry when someone pulls the bus chord and doesn’t get off. I’m insane because I’m silent and I read books instead of the oddity of text messages or the dim unpersonable IM.
Save me. They think I’m crazy because I’m said and like the Great Emily once said, “Much Madness is the devinest sense” and to them I’m madder than a godamn baby at the horror movie I happen to be at.
I don’t want to cut any throats. That’s everyone else.
They toured the clinic and realized that everything was already in place. He could start practicing here tomorrow!! Receptionist in place, supplies in the cupboards, charts filed, offices ready – even patients in the waiting room. A doctor’s dream – his own clinic!!
I am in the clinic, but not for my health, it is for my mind. The crazies, they call it. But I am not crazy, I can’t be. No, I am not. I am but wise and intelligent, telling you of things you refuse to know. Rather than crazy, I am alive, I am well, I see all. And I box out none. I am in the clinic, not for my crazyness, but for my heart, and the story it tells.
one day at a clinic i \was diagnosed with large penis syndrom, this was not a shock because this one panda at the zoo one time told me that a leperhaun put a spell on me and made me have the largest penis in the land. i have taken great use of this spell and
He sat in the waiting room, with all the other sick people, trying not to look at them, or at least not catch their eye. Goddanmn it. What was he doing here? Why did he end up at the clinic? How did so many things in life happen, he asked himself.
I work at a clinic and see the most bizzare things. A man came in today with six nails in his head. He tried to commit suicide with a nail gun. I was amazed that he got by the first nail but was able to then put six more in. I cant imagine the pain.
Ha clinic. You make me clinically depressed. How the fuck are you going to put me in the fucking friend zone? I expected this, you act like you’re so much fucking better, and you fucking HID me, even from your closest friends. Fucking prick. Maybe they should send you to a fucking clinic to deal with your daddy issues, your failure to commit, your failure to get the fuck out of bed and do something with your life.
When I moved from California to Texas, the first thing I missed was the free clinic. Not because I frequented them, but because of the value that they bring to the community. They only serve people who do not have health insurance (which is a growing number of people) and provide an invaluable service.
I knew i was better than most of the girls. It was just a matter of playing the game versus doing drills. The coordinator of the basketball clinic was the varsity coach, who only played players that he knew personally from youth basketball leagues. He never cared for those that were truly good if he didn’t know them.
As I walked out of the clinic, I wondered to myself how many people I had actually helped that day. I no longer feel like I contribute to society, I no longer feel the burning light of good and goodness driving me forward. I don’t help people, I move them on from one sad day to another. Doctors don’t heal, they repair; nobody really gets better.
Clinics can be kind of creepy sometimes. Especially health clinics, I don’t know about you, but all those diagrams of hearts kind of creep me out*shiver*.
It’s a clinical practice, sometimes. The whole preparation and waiting and executing. Memorizing. Clean, cut, easy. But It shouldn’t be that way. it should be from the knowledge you’ve earned, a heard, blood, sweat, and tears show of the ways you’ve changed. The ways’ you’ve grown.
I don’t like exams very much at all.
i went to the clinic a few days ago. I went to the clinic to get a camera down my throat it was scary at first but in the end i didnt feel a thing until after because my throat was reaally hurting. The clinic ended up being better than i thought.
I once had a problem with my horse and attended a barrel racing clinic. It was great to see so many other people struggling with problems and we all tried to help each other. The teacher was so good with each person and I could see that she really loved her work. It is great to have someone help you when you have no idea how to fix a problem.
reaching her warm, pudgy hands up, up, higher, she presses them against the cool, clear glass, and smushes her lips together at the underwater beauty swims past. “dayton!” the nurse calls from the other side of the room, and her mother sweeps her away from the tiny enchanted world in the fishtank.
white halls, white gowns, white floors, white beds, white. No color. No nothing, just blank. Close your eyes, behind the lid there is red, red blood, red veins, red love, red heart. Open. Red on white. Death? or Life?
I’ve been to a clinic once, where I learned I was anemic. I wasn’t a pleasant experience, and I’m glad I no longer go to the college clinics.
THe clinic’s office… uhhg. It smells… the humidity in the air, the warm clingy medical type… I can feel my skin whithering under it, like I’ve aged a good 30 years or so by standing in this damn place with my skin exposed.
It’s gross.
I don’t even trust the hand sanitizers…
The bathroom… ehh, I suppose I could learn to trust them.
i have one item on my bucket list. it is to throw eggs at the people who stand outside of abortion clinics waving crazy signs, protesting and harassing women.
teenagers give birth its stupid cus they’re not even old enough their jock boyfriends are stupid and dont want to take care of the child so the girl goes to the clinic by herself and gets an abortion and ruins her entire life another jock comes along and does the same thing to her knocks her up
cynical. clean cold and clinical
The doors were large and metallic. The kind that you had to heave your whole body against in order to even think about moving it.
“To keep people out?”
“No, in.”
Then he mumbled something else about eating apple sauce for breakfast and left.
it’s so clinical, all this analyzation of who we are, what we are.
it’s not so much what reason can tell you, but what reason can’t tell you.
it’s all the heartfelt words that pass between us, it’s all the looks we share when we see something different or amusing.
it’s like the wind in the air, something you know is there but never quite see.
we see evidence of it everywhere, but it’s not something that can be held.
The clinic was open.
Finally. the broken man ran in…
both his arms swinging limply at his sides. He need help and finally he got to… He was happy.
Clinic should be replaced. The word has such a feeling of repair and cold diagnosis, that’s only for things that are broken. We are people not cars.
The clinic is an awful place to be. I had to go to a clinic over the weekend because I had a cyst on my face and it wasn’t serious enough to go to the hospital and the doctor’s office was closed.
white walls and sterile environment with old people and doctors. laughing and awkward moments. parents and arguments. reading bad magazines
clinic duty, always the worse.
well, i wouldn’t know.
i’d like to know.
maybe one day.
at one point in life.
somehow.
someway.
need to go to one :\
She had chicken pox so I brought her to the clinic. Lots of lumps on her skin, and I didn’t think she looked good anymore. That was the moment I realized I wanted to dump Christine.
medical. medic. sick people and dying people and healing people and being ill. vomit. and aching and pain and crying and pain. aids and victims and blood. choking and dying and coughing and bile.
I went to the doctor’s. I wish I didn’t go because now I’m just nervous. Is there anything to even be concerned about? I’m not sure. I’m really not sure. Of all the words to pop up today, clinic? Really? Why? I don’t want to think about it. It’s my best tactic. Just ignore :) I wish it would actually accomplish something!
Clinics are great when you need a doctor to write a note to justify the day you took off work.
I hate going to the clinic. The doctors always ask me questions that they should already know the answer to. It’s even worse on rainy days for some reason, it just seems as if everyone is more
I went to the clinic yesterday because my balls where iching. They told me i had to get this cream stuff and shave all my pubes off. I went and bout it at this OTHER clinic and went home to try it out. HOlY SHIT what a pain in the ass to have to shave ur pubes. I dont know how girls do it all the time. I mean they dont have balls to go around or n e thing, but still.
He left the clinic as soon as the doctor said he couldn’t have the medication he wanted. His girlfriend saw him shooting himself half an hour later.
Clinical treatment.
Yeah, it’ll help us all.
We’ll live forever.
Forever. . .
Forever is a lie, if you believe,
if you believe,
you’re destined to be damned.
I’m not clinically depressed–yet. Well, actually I doubt I’ll ever be. Goodbye.
Perhaps the doctors were realy aliens sent to make me run around like some rat from a burning ship; my disgusting rat tail lagging slowly behind me. I was not sent here to get better like the sad nurse st the desk said.
Perhaps I am here to die in a shallow place and hear the dirt like acme anvils falling from outer space. Either way these people aren’t here to save me. This clinic is not for the insane but rather the perfectly sane who hold to the fact that there is something seriously wrong with the world. They think I’m crazy just because I’m incapable of paying bulls, because i can’t stand small talk, and because I get angry when someone pulls the bus chord and doesn’t get off. I’m insane because I’m silent and I read books instead of the oddity of text messages or the dim unpersonable IM.
Save me. They think I’m crazy because I’m said and like the Great Emily once said, “Much Madness is the devinest sense” and to them I’m madder than a godamn baby at the horror movie I happen to be at.
I don’t want to cut any throats. That’s everyone else.
They toured the clinic and realized that everything was already in place. He could start practicing here tomorrow!! Receptionist in place, supplies in the cupboards, charts filed, offices ready – even patients in the waiting room. A doctor’s dream – his own clinic!!
I am in the clinic, but not for my health, it is for my mind. The crazies, they call it. But I am not crazy, I can’t be. No, I am not. I am but wise and intelligent, telling you of things you refuse to know. Rather than crazy, I am alive, I am well, I see all. And I box out none. I am in the clinic, not for my crazyness, but for my heart, and the story it tells.
one day at a clinic i \was diagnosed with large penis syndrom, this was not a shock because this one panda at the zoo one time told me that a leperhaun put a spell on me and made me have the largest penis in the land. i have taken great use of this spell and
He sat in the waiting room, with all the other sick people, trying not to look at them, or at least not catch their eye. Goddanmn it. What was he doing here? Why did he end up at the clinic? How did so many things in life happen, he asked himself.
I work at a clinic and see the most bizzare things. A man came in today with six nails in his head. He tried to commit suicide with a nail gun. I was amazed that he got by the first nail but was able to then put six more in. I cant imagine the pain.
Ha clinic. You make me clinically depressed. How the fuck are you going to put me in the fucking friend zone? I expected this, you act like you’re so much fucking better, and you fucking HID me, even from your closest friends. Fucking prick. Maybe they should send you to a fucking clinic to deal with your daddy issues, your failure to commit, your failure to get the fuck out of bed and do something with your life.
When I moved from California to Texas, the first thing I missed was the free clinic. Not because I frequented them, but because of the value that they bring to the community. They only serve people who do not have health insurance (which is a growing number of people) and provide an invaluable service.
I knew i was better than most of the girls. It was just a matter of playing the game versus doing drills. The coordinator of the basketball clinic was the varsity coach, who only played players that he knew personally from youth basketball leagues. He never cared for those that were truly good if he didn’t know them.
As I walked out of the clinic, I wondered to myself how many people I had actually helped that day. I no longer feel like I contribute to society, I no longer feel the burning light of good and goodness driving me forward. I don’t help people, I move them on from one sad day to another. Doctors don’t heal, they repair; nobody really gets better.
a place that i fear. something that always seemed like a place of heartbreak or new found life.
Clinics can be kind of creepy sometimes. Especially health clinics, I don’t know about you, but all those diagrams of hearts kind of creep me out*shiver*.
It’s a clinical practice, sometimes. The whole preparation and waiting and executing. Memorizing. Clean, cut, easy. But It shouldn’t be that way. it should be from the knowledge you’ve earned, a heard, blood, sweat, and tears show of the ways you’ve changed. The ways’ you’ve grown.
I don’t like exams very much at all.
i went to the clinic a few days ago. I went to the clinic to get a camera down my throat it was scary at first but in the end i didnt feel a thing until after because my throat was reaally hurting. The clinic ended up being better than i thought.
I once had a problem with my horse and attended a barrel racing clinic. It was great to see so many other people struggling with problems and we all tried to help each other. The teacher was so good with each person and I could see that she really loved her work. It is great to have someone help you when you have no idea how to fix a problem.
reaching her warm, pudgy hands up, up, higher, she presses them against the cool, clear glass, and smushes her lips together at the underwater beauty swims past. “dayton!” the nurse calls from the other side of the room, and her mother sweeps her away from the tiny enchanted world in the fishtank.
white halls, white gowns, white floors, white beds, white. No color. No nothing, just blank. Close your eyes, behind the lid there is red, red blood, red veins, red love, red heart. Open. Red on white. Death? or Life?
The girl stumbled into the clinic, green and pale faced. She slammed solidly into the counter, then grabbed it and steadied herself, breathing hard.