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I don't know if anyone is even on tumblr anymore, but hey, what the hell.

I wrote a new story! It’s been in my hard drive for the last couple of years and for some reason, while completely unable to move on with my Surgery handouts, I found myself typing twelve thousand words in one night. Go figure.

Story title: A Thousand Faces

Fandom: Harry Potter

Summary: Some time after the second wizarding war, there is a man living in Grimmauld Place: a complete stranger who is somehow familiar. A love story in two parts.

Link: Chapter One
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The rotation is over and I didn't say anything. I am a huge cowardCollapse ) I feel with every day that passes that I've become one of those ridiculous young women who fall in love with their bosses and convince themselves that their youth is some sort of temptation, when it's more likely that it's a big deterrent.
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I have got it really, really bad. I read somewhere that all you need is twenty seconds of bravery. What do I do with twenty seconds, now when my rotation is so close to being over and I may never see him again? Do I sit beside this guy at a conference and risk the prying eyes of his colleagues and mine? Do I smile at him directly rather than look away when I catch him looking, which is mostly what I've been doing? WHAT DO I DO and why isn't there a manual for this sort of thing?
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I'm not a nice person. In fact I'm actually one of the rudest people I've ever met. But I hope I'm always nice to my patients and to their companions. I haven't always been, but I hope to be.

Earlier this week I was called out of a session at the EMG-NCV room by a resident who needed me to make a referral. By the time I was walking back to the EMG-NCV room I found a woman and her son (nine or ten years old maybe?) standing outside, apparently waiting for their turn. I was already turning the doorknob when the woman asked me, in the most condescending I-speak-English-in-a-Filipino-charity-hospital voice I have ever heard, "Excuuuuse me, miss, don't you have a chair around here? So my son can sit?" And she said this like she was personally affronted, like I was a janitor who had failed to clean up a puddle of cat piss right in front of her.</p>

I looked around. This was a very small corridor, and a corridor full of offices for occupational therapy and physical therapy etc--in other words, a corridor that often saw the use of wheelchairs and walkers and even stretchers, so chairs put up against the walls would be more of a hindrance than a help to waiting patients. In any case there was an anteroom to the corridor where patients could wait. Only she and her son insisted on waiting right outside the door, as though ready to pounce on anyone coming out of the EMG-NCV room.

I asked, "I'm sorry Ma'am, are you with the patient?" and I gestured to the room, where a man with spinal cord compression was being examined, because I thought they might have been with him, because again this fricking corridor was not a waiting area except for anxious relatives who waited outside the door, unable to stay away. And she said, "No, my son is the patient," and I noticed that the son was standing awkwardly and I understood why she was asking for a chair. So I said "I'm sorry Ma'am, where is his injury?" and she impatiently pointed to kid's leg. So I controlled my temper, told myself she was just a mother concerned about her boy, and I knocked at the EMG room and procured a chair (which was actually supposed to be for the companions of the patient already inside, but who cares about that right?), gave it to her, apologized again while she harrrumphed royally and dismissed me, again, like I was a janitor. The whole time I wanted to tell her, "you cannot talk to me like that; I am a doctor. And even if I weren't a doctor you would still never have that right. Even we don't talk like that to our staff; we call them Ma'am and Sir all the damn time!"

But anyway. She was just a mom worried about her kid. I wanted to move on from that and focus on the session. Unfortunately, a few minutes later, a knock came at the door, and I peered over the resident's shoulder to realize that the lady in question, who had made such a fuss about a chair for her son, was calmly sitting in the chair while her son stood awkwardly beside her.

I hope I'm always nice. I hope I'm always nice to patients and their companions, even when they don't deserve it. AT ALL.

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Things I learned today: 50 new kanji characters (I've started making flashcards, which is tedious but helpful); what tl; dr means; and how someone you don't even particularly like can make you really, really sad when they express interest in leaving your fandom.
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My mind spends half the time in PGH and half the time in Camelot, dreaming, dreaming.

No wonder I don't get any work done. On the other hand... The Once and Future King, sigh.
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Me: I am on the terrifying edge of writing RPF of dan/emma. Talk me out of it Haha.
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I learned how to ride a bike! One thing to cross off the bucket list.
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I'm not dealing so well with the advent of SNUFF, the 39th (and upcoming) Discworld novel by Terry Pratchett.

If Vimes dies in this book, I'll just go die with him.

Just kidding. But honestly. I cried for two days straight when I found out Severus Snape died, and I hadn't even read the book yet. When Inspector Morse died I couldn't even read the book (it's still just sitting there in my library). And now to have Samuel Vimes shuffle off the face of the Disc? I can't handle it. The Watch were my best friends during my saddest and most awkward years, because there was a little part of me in each of them (or is it the other way around?).

I LOVE Samuel Vimes and he's one of the few characters who have never, ever, ever disappointed me. When a new Watch book comes out I just go uunggggh! and have to get it LIKE NOW (ie have it shipped from the States because it takes the Pratchett books a long time to get here). Personally I'm not a huge fan of most of the other Discworld subseries, like the Tiffany Aching stories and the Rincewind books, and it's been breaking my heart that the Watch books have been so few and far between. (Though, yes well, I did enjoy the Moist von Lipwig books very very much and they were a nice break, but I probably enjoyed them best because they were still set in Ankh Morpork and Vimes and Vetinari still play a role).

Probably I'm overthinking. But the cover has just been released, and see that little hourglass there on the boat with him? Sometimes an hourglass is just an hourglass, but sometimes an hourglass is something Death (or his apprentice, Mort) carries around with him to see how much longer a poor bugger has left.

Sam Vimes, if you can hear me all the way there in Ankh-Morpork, please don't die.
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