[identity profile] drlambert.livejournal.com
Natalie did her usual set up, then settled in with the television tuned to her favorite Friday night shows.

FTEC, Sunday Night

Sunday, April 16th, 2006 07:19 pm
stykera: (electromagnetic candy!)
[personal profile] stykera
Stark had eaten far more chocolate eggs than could possibly be healthy by the time he got to the clinic for his Sunday shift. That didn't stop him from bringing in a few more eggs that he'd picked up on his way in, just in case he needed more chocolate later. Or in case anyone in the clinic needed chocolate.

After checking to see who was in what beds tonight and determining that the dead girl was still dead, he sat down at the desk with a notebook, the chocolate eggs, and two weetiny egg-bearing bunnies that had been following him since this morning. He might have been trying to teach the weetiny bunnies about Sociology of the Paranormal, but they weren't paying much attention.

((I will be slow to respond until about 9 EDT, and if I missed anyone that should be here, feel free to make your own comment thread))
[identity profile] sexydoctor.livejournal.com
The clinic was a mess.

The lobby and hallway were full of crumpled coffee cups and the scent of emo. A few bodies remained huddled against the walls and on benches. Christian quietly checked them and found each person just sleeping, so there hadn't been a coffee Jonestown going on last night.

At least the patient in Exam One seemed much better. Christian examined Angel and found him sleeping peacefully, no fever or chills. So maybe whatever they'd done had worked despite wrecking havoc in the clinic. Careful not to disturb the vampire or the young man passed out in the chair next to him, Christian noted Angel's condition on his chart, then returned to the desk in the lobby, hoping people would wake up soon and clean up this mess.
[identity profile] gotcanewillpoke.livejournal.com
He's in the clinic before 7am, because he can't sleep.

He'd drank half a bottle of Whiskey during the night, hoping a little alcohol would help him sleep. It had only made his dreams more intense. To the point he'd woken up disoriented and believing he was confined to his bed in room 212 at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, and consciousness did little to ease his mind. He was alone, in his apartment in Fandom, and his leg didn't hurt. He should havebeen feeling pretty good. He felt like he wanted to trash the apartment just to make a statement.

Unable to take the silence of the apartment without Wilson any longer, he'd stumbled into the clinic. He flipped the switch, but didn't open the doors. He sat down at the desk (after switching the festive holiday music for Johnny Cash) and dug Wilson's crossword puzzle book out of the drawer. It failed to hold his attention and he ended up throwing it across the waiting area. That began a systematic cleaning of the desk surface, dumping everything in the trash can just because it was there.

Dr on duty, but be warned, he's hung over and grumpy. Enter at your own risk
[identity profile] dr-jwilsonmd.livejournal.com
The passage of air was LOUD today and Wilson moved very, very carefully in an attempt to keep the air as still as possible. He was late opening the Clinic not because he was late getting *to* the Clinic but because he was moving very slowly…in the hope of keeping the air really quiet.

Getting the doors open, he started a pot of coffee and sucked back the third 20oz bottle of water he’d been drinking since about oh…not too many hours ago. Putting a happy face on, he managed to do rounds without passing out, which was a blessing, checking in on Rory, Logan and Jack before crawling back up to the front desk.

Sitting down, very carefully –DAMN AIR WILL YOU SHUT UP!- Wilson leaned forward till he could cradle his head on his forearms. Seven…liquors….what the hell had he been thinking last night?

That it felt good to laugh a little and not hurt…andohGodI’mnottwentyanymore

Dragging his water bottle down into his lap to snuggle it close, Wilson reached for the half a piece of bagel he’d been trying to choke down for over an hour now. He was about half-way through it. By noon he might be finished with it.

If I live that long…Crowley is going to kill me.

Taking a slow breath, Wilson sat up and reached for a chart. He was being in his charting and really needed to catch up, if the little black squiggly lines would just stay still long enough for him to read them.

Doctor on Duty.
[identity profile] death-n-binky.livejournal.com
*DEATH can still be seen sitting at the desk from last night. His pen is scribbling maddly still and seems to have ammassed quite a large collection of notes. He continues to flip through his collection of books and magazines. Right now it appears the choice of reading is Rules for Radicals, though he periodcally flips through a stack of magazines and catalouges at his right.

Sometime in the night he apparently retrieved the duck, which quacks approval or disapproval when asked about a particular article of clothing.*

DEATH is in, bleed here please. Or talk. Or pet the ducky.

((OOC: I've set up three threads - Exam1, Lab, and Waitng. If you have your own room, please open a comment for that room, because I really don't know who is where at the moment.))
[identity profile] dr-jwilsonmd.livejournal.com
Wilson and House had been up the whole night, between hourly checks on Rory, Marty and Logan they had -laughably- tried to relieve each other for a few hours of sleep but each had been too keyed up to take advantage and after the first try had given up.

The oncologist had quietly worked on paperwork in between rounds, while House had played with his gameboy. For the moment, neither had brought up the subject of what had just happened with the other, it was just all too confusing and in the end, not important to delivering medical attention. In some ways, it was better that they didn't have the details, that would just confuse the focus.

As morning dawned, Wilson had taken advantage of a quick break to grab a shower and clean the blood off his skin and out of his hair. He'd come back and tagged House out, firmly suggesting that the older doctor needed to put some intense heat therapy on that bad leg of his...and also demanding -in a loving manner- that House make coffee.

When House headed off towards the little apartment, Wilson began to run rounds once more.

[ooc: For the sake of my sanity, please put all 'Morning after' comments into this post. I'll have threads up for all the sickies as soon as LJ lets me. Thank you! :)]
[identity profile] dr-jwilsonmd.livejournal.com
Wilson had closed the Clinic briefly for a few hours, long enough to get a shower, relax a little with dinner and House but then he'd forceably dragged the older man back to the Clinic. They had to go over a few administrative items that he needed House's input with so...back to the office.

Now, if only they could behave themselves.

Stretched out in a chair across the desk from House, Wilson was flipping through a medical catelogue.

"I think we could afford it, House and it really would be indispensible.
[identity profile] dr-jwilsonmd.livejournal.com
Wilson had spent a couple of days out. Out away from the apartment and away from the clinic, simply walking around. If asked, he’d claim that he was exploring his new home but in truth, he’d simply been walking and trying to wrap his brain around things. It all seemed to keep eluding him however, the divorce…the series of losses at the hospital, coming here to House…

Becoming House’s lover in fact as well as in theory after so many years.

And every so often the incredible insanity of the place snuck in to distract him from his melancholy.

There certainly was plenty!

Strolling into the clinic, the oncologist whistled softly under his breath as he headed for House’s office. He was dressed for autumn in a dark green cashmere sweater that hugged his slender form, nipping in at his trim waist. It was warm but not loose or bulky and allowed him more freedom of movement in case he was needed to work with a patient. For the time being, he had a few phone calls to make regarding blood work.

First up, he had Red’s blood work finished. Sitting down at the desk, he flipped open the tattoo artist’s file and dialed the contact number Red had left.

"Good morning, this message is for, Red."

Once that call was finished, he moved on to the next file, Jack O’Neill. It took a bit of digging to come up with good contact information but he managed to ferret it out and dialed up the young man’s voice mail.

"Good morning, this message is for, Jack O’Neill."

Once those two calls were finished, he spent a couple of hours on the phone with the supply companies, working through a restock order. Going out to the main desk to fax over a couple of req forms, he got the fax started, then filled the time waiting by leaving Lily a note.

Sticking the note on the board it read,

Lily, There has been a request from a Ms. Paige Matthews that you be primary contact person for her in medical matters. In the normal course of any medical situations that come up she would like you to assist her. I’ve made a note in her chart to the effect but wanted you to be aware. Please see me if you have any questions.

Some sort of illegible scrawl that might be his name.

Snagging the forms off the fax, he waited till he had confirmation that the requests had gone through and then headed back into the office. If he knew House and…well he did Biblical sense and all the man hadn’t done a damn thing with his weekend charting.

Wilson settled in to catch up the work, half an ear cocked towards the clinic in case anyone came by needing help.

EDIT: When he got back from speaking with Chef, Wilson wrote out a note in bold black letters and tacked it up to the board in the waiting room.


I have spoken to Chef and he promises that the effects will wear off in a few hours. If you are still singing -and by this I mean involuntarily- tomorrow morning, please return to the Clinic and we'll take a look.

James Wilson

(no subject)

Friday, October 14th, 2005 08:24 pm
[identity profile] gotcanewillpoke.livejournal.com
Dr House is in the clinic this Friday evening.

He's bored. Come entertain him. He may reward you with a red lollypop unless your name is Parker.
[identity profile] gotcanewillpoke.livejournal.com
Dr House was in the clinic, waiting for any and all of the kids from the botched Rooftop Beautifucation Project to show up for their gremlin testing, as per the Dean. Dean Bristow had told him to use water or sprite, not the actual gremlin spittle, but House didn't like the whole idea of lying to those kids. They trusted him, and he'd put himself on the line to defend and protect them. Lying to them at this point just seemed wrong.

House sighed and looked up at Alanna's pencil collectoin in the ceiling. The girl had a good throw, as far as h could tell, not one of the pencils had fallen yet. He sighed again and rubbed his face. He dug his crossword puzzle book out of his desk, but couldn't concentrate on it. Same with his video games, even the yo-yo. Another sigh and he leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk.

[OOC: While this post is closed to student and faculty trauma, the clinic itself is open...*nodnod*]

Sunday Morning

Sunday, October 2nd, 2005 10:42 am
[identity profile] gotcanewillpoke.livejournal.com
Dr House is in the clinic. Trying to balance his cane on his nose, which isn't exactly working well. Doesn't stop him frm trying.
[identity profile] oatmanspatient.livejournal.com
Marty, Rory and Angela carry Logan's unconscious body into the clinic.

"Can we get a doctor here?"

(no subject)

Thursday, September 22nd, 2005 07:31 pm
[identity profile] death-n-binky.livejournal.com
*DEATH sits behind the desk, waiting for patients to come in. He is trying to look official, with the plague going on, so he's dressed in standard black at the moment.*
[identity profile] 2ls-in-oneill.livejournal.com
Jack punches in and takes a seat behind the desk. He takes out his homework and hopes it's a slow day.

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