Dr. Onix squinted his eyes as he looked around the dimly lit room. The candles looked like firecrackers that illuminated the ominous painting hanging nearby. Besides the candles, and the paintings, and the desk, and the chairs, the doctor noticed nothing else in the vast room. It was just him, and realizing that he started to fidget in his seat. But the sound of footsteps coming out of nowhere startled him to ice. Wasn’t he alone?
“Good evening, Dr. Onix,” the sound of a deep baritone unfroze the doctor and made him leap out of his chair. He quickly looked around to see a man standing in front of the painting, clad in a uniform he’s never seen before and a pair of glasses. His hair was unusually slicked back, the doctor noticed, and it made him conscious of his tousled bed head. He went to pat his hair down as the man in the uniform spoke again.
“I’m going to get straight to the point,” the man spoke again. It snapped the doctor out of his diva phase and made him sit back in the chair. “First of all,
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Onix watched his family fly to the sun. It was gruesome slaving away in his lab trying desperately to find a way to let people live on the sun. He barely spent time with his wife, but he wouldn’t change the last months for anything. He and the team did it, people were going to live on the sun and his son would live.
To celebrate, he decided to go back to the room with the ominous painting to talk to E. Without him, he wouldn’t have been able to come this far in his work and save his child.
About to knock on the door, the doctor paused as he heard the same baritone voice that scared him out of his seat. It seemed like he was conversing with
"Sir please don't! You won't be of any help there." But the man didn't care anymore about the maid words and rushed to the door and just when he was about to open it, an old voice came from inside the room:
He often looked at each patient as an individual with their own story, learned about them, got down to their level,
Do you need a doctor?” “No. I have something I need to tell you.” Aubrie sits on the edge of the bed. “Do you wanna be with me?
Doctor Deluca took a quick breath and flashed a kind smile at me. “Riley we are going to take some blood and run some routine tests. Just to ensure the
Vincent Harris is the Ruiner, a top secret assassin who works for the U.S. Government. He has near-magic powers. He hates his job. After a missed e-mail nearly causes an international disaster The Ruiner has to cancel his vacation plans. That doesn 't mean he keeps working.
“Grab the vaccines” _____________________________________________________________________ “Alani…” A small voice called my name. What was that sound? I heard
On a dark December night in 1776, as he led a barefoot brigade of ragged revolutionaries across the icy Delaware River, George Washington said, “Shift your fat behind, Harry. But slowly or you’ll swamp the darn boat.” He was talking to General Henry Knox (they called him “Ox” for short). There’s a painting of George Washington where he’s standing up in a boat scanning the riverbank for Redcoats. I always thought he just wanted a good view.
He quickly flipped through a couple of hundred pages and pointed to a section. He said, read this first and then we will talk about it. This was the start, while I didn’t identify it at the time, of a constant back and forth between me and a couple of emergency medicine physicians who just happened to work in my local small town emergency room. They would not just answer my questions, or just tell me to do this or that, but that they would point me in the right direction to learn on my own and then be there to support me and to answer my questions. It is a practice that I have continued my entire career.
The 1692 events in Salem were not caused by a single person. Rather, the horrific miscarriage of injustice that was unfair persecutions under the guise of witchcraft could be blamed on natural phenomena. When young girls of the Massachusetts town developed strange symptoms, such as vivid hallucinations and strange bodily sensations, the local town doctor could not explain why they had suddenly taken ill. Confused, he diagnosed them with the one thing that made sense to the suspicious religious town: Witchcraft. Now, modern science concludes that a simple fungus was responsible for the girl’s symptoms.
It sounded like on the movie, Frankenstein’s voice when he plead to his creator for a wife. And Mr. Skelly’s grumpy, hoarse voice plead to me; “Please, come on in, Lil Miss Missy.” With hesitation I pulled the makeshift door knob: a large, empty thread spool that had been hammered on with a big, rusty, U-shaped nail and was heavily marred with coal soot. My heart drummed triple time in my chest and prepared me to fight or flee. I took teeny-tiny baby steps, entered Mr. Skelly’s house, and landed just barely inside his front room, on the other side of his screen door.
“Nervous?” “Very,” Adam replies honestly. “Will I be alright on my own?” Adam asks.
One of the first discussed was the number of patients that a physician at a community clinic was expected to see daily. The physician in the film maintains that she is constantly scrutinized by administration to increase her productivity. The physician however does not feel that increasing the number of patients she sees allows her to properly care for her patients. She is more concerned about the quality of care she provides versus the quantity of patients she sees. She gives this as a reason for her quitting this job.
The machinery in the hospital allows for the patients perceptions and view of the world and society to appear unnatural. For example in Chief’s dream, when pPlastic is disemboweled, rust, not blood, spills out, revealing that the hospital destroyed not only his life but his humanity
Upon meeting the little girl, I was surprised to see the doctor change his actions and way of communicating.