Health problem solvers. Provide treatment for any sort of health condition or injury.
Winston Haddock
medicinal, disease, cancer, multiple myeloma, kemo, sick, coma, hospital, ER,
matt c
hospital, patience’s, my mom is a pediatric nurse, little kids, doctor, nurse, gross food at the house.
When I need stitches in my knee, It was scary :(
Amanda Hammond
Medical reminds me of a doctors office. Actually, more like a hospital. It also reminds me of medical school. I’m going to list the doctors. Cardiologist, neurologist, psychiatrist, oncologist, pediatrician, geriatrics, orthopedist, surgeon. Does a dentist count? I want to be a neurologist.
The time flies as I sit outside in the waiting room. The hours tick by faster than the minutes do and I start to tap my foot as it goes on and on. The doctor finally comes out and looks down at me as I slowly stand up.
“I’m sorry ma’am, she’s gone,” he says sadly.
I cry and look away quickly.
Courtney
helping, caring, honest/trustworthy people, lots of school. hospitals, nurses, surgery, white sheets, doctors, medicine, shots, stickers, candy, x-rays, pain
Katelin Grimes
I am an aspiring anesthesiologist. This is a specialized profession in the medical field. I plan to attend East Carolina University or Appalachian State University for Nursing and move to California to get my graduate degree in Anesthesia.
My grandpa was a pediatrician. He said that one time a kid puked on his tie. I don’t think I could deal with that… His office smelled like sanitizer and little kids.
Katie Elkin
doctor, nurse, LOTS of schooling, aid, helping, quite intelligent, medical people get paid really well, stethoscope, superheroes of the average world.
Savannah Arnette
doctor
sick
long white coats
needles
x-ray
smocks
nurses
televisions
waiting room
sadness
Kira
I had no idea how long it had been. It was as though my body was not my own. Those with medical qualifications were baffled and excited in a strange cocktail of emotions that arise only when a situation presents both a challenge and a change..from the hum drum of standard procedures…
Julia
i thought medical is one of the words i would relate only toward the end of my life… but that wasn’t the case. i have an illness now, and i go to more than one hospitals. but it had me realize that i really need to value my health and body, not just my soul.
kaorita
I hate the medical world. I think lots of doctors see themselves as almighty gods.
It pisses me off the way everyone has to kowtow to a frigging doctor’s schedule. When you go there, which I avoid doing at all costs, you are treated in a subservient way. You are make to wait wait wait until it fits THEIR time frame . There is no appreciation for your own time.
J O'Neill
i started watching grey’s anatomy…its pretty cool. a lot of dirty medical stuff that gross you out but i like the story. its worth a try for everyone :)
Problems are something I feel lucky of enough not to have. This kind of problem can kill your spirits and your pocketbook. I also think of the smell of antiseptic.
Pam
Medical people have been really leading me a merry chase. It turns out that much of the advice they have given me isn’t strictly true, and certainly not often in my best interests. Overall, my trust in the medical profession has been eroded lately.
The medical community were enraptured at the sight. Two eyeless heads joined in a single torso and ending with a serpentine tail. Not only was such a sight an uncommon occurance at the Royal James hospital, but nobody could tell what it really was. Was it human?
AfterMath
In order to receive any ethical treatment you had to have insurance. But not the typical one use to sign for and pay a monthly fee to obtain. This insurance required a bet against yourself, and so needed to be signed with heart. Matters of the blod sort were too hard to handle on paper.
My parents have always wanted me to get into the medical field. A passion I don’t have. They say they want me to do what I love, yet they beg me to practice medicine.
Salim
“A little self-diagnosis never hurt anyone,” she claimed, scrawling symptoms on a pad of paper, playing doctor-psychiatrist to her own inner demons. If only she could pinpoint the source of her neuroses, then perhaps she could treat them medically and finally be free of all this.
He kissed with medical precision, his lips firm and precise, his movements methodical and practiced. His hands spoke of his experience with a scalpel, strong and experienced but still gentle, as though you were his most delicate dissection to date.
She loves a bit of medical: self-diagnosis, fitting the symptoms to match her mood; which is usually desperate tinged with anger. She’s dull, you see, and has to find a way to capture some attention. Since being a little girl with a grazed knee, she realised this was the fastest way to get what she wanted. Along came tissues, cream and sympathy, plasters and cuddles. And so on this bleak, boring Thursday, she simply threw herself down the stairs.
He breathed in evenly as he aligned the needle’s point with the taught flesh over the vessel, and held it when the point sunk in, biting his lower lip just so as he pushed down the plunger. He measured time under his breath, tapping his tongue against his teeth as he recited the numbers in his head, and then exhaled slowly as he removed the needle, careful not to rush or to pull more than a single bead of blood to the surface. There was something special about the way a syringe slipped through skin and found its mark in a vessel, something that left him breathless and wondering why having such power never got old. His medical experience didn’t exceed his own fervent curiosity; neither was he a doctor or a nurse, because that took the kind of person he was exactly not, but it was a special privilege to be allowed to stick someone with a needle, some sort of erotic thrill to be had that got to him better than anything else, an intoxicating, perfectly balanced combination of having power over the patient but also having their complete trust even while he caused them pain for a greater good. He imagined his experience was far separated from that of real physicians, but even so, his patients never complained about his special form of treatment.
Take me in and give me
a shot of your medicine.
Make my face numb
and then my chest
and then my ribs
and then my ankles
and then I sigh
because I know
just how far away you are.
what does it mean to be in the medical field. does it mean that you must be selfless in order to care for those in need? also, how do you choose which field you want to be in? the options you have could be endless.
Dianna Brister
Predictable.
Emotional.
Irrational.
Divorcing my body from it’s wisdom.
Healing.
Beating.
Breathing new life from pills, cells, dots and dashes.
New domain using old science, I ask my body for the answer.
It pumps me full of love.
medical is artificial – we are our own health doctors and we can medicate ourselves –
lets go back to when we knew herbs and holistic medicaments to help us out…
elizabeth
I’ve been wanting to get into the medical field for a while, now. Whether I make it or not is up to me and my determination and how much integrity I have. My self-esteem will also have to play a role in it. I need to
She wanted to go medical. She wanted to go law. She wanted to go wherever she could to make people happy. But where did she want to go? She wanted to be free. She wanted to be with the birds, flying up above the clouds, soaring ever so freely across the skies, without a worry in the world. She wanted to be.
She wanted to go medical. She wanted to go law. She wanted to go wherever she could to make people happy. But where did she want to go? She wanted to be free. She wanted to be with the birds, flying up above the clouds, soaring ever so freely across the skies, without a worry in the world. She wanted to be.
Sickness is a drag. It makes me remember my husband’s battle with cancer and the incredibly difficult time I had coping.
Sheryl Solow
kings, face down–that’s the worst card you could have pulled.
everything’s a phone call away.
every one is guernica.
there are four little shining brown eyes peering out from under dirty blonde, too-long bangs that need a daddy more than i need a muse at midnight on a wednesday.
Medical, clean, sterile. That’s how they think they should be treating her. No one seems to think that maybe all she needs is a bit of attention, a tiny bit of praise, someone who looks at her and sees something other than disease.
Katie
The two Londoners had unknowingly pinned a Gallifreyan against a brick wall in a dark alley. Having caught him suspiciously breaking into a high-tech facility, Sherlock feared that the tall, gangly man in the tweed jacket had been another member of Moriarty’s web. John, not familiar with the technology contained in the stranger’s little green-bulbed instrument with extendable claws, had pointed his gun at him for a sense of safety.
“Whatever went wrong,” pleaded the man, both hands in the air against the wall, “I can assure you with… um.. about eighty six percent certainty that it wasn’t me. Probably.”
John wrinkled his nose at Sherlock in confusion. “Who are you?” he demanded of the stranger, lowering his gun by a couple inches.
“I’m the Doctor,” he claimed, eyes darting back and forth between the darkly-clad man whose cheekbones he could sympathize with, to a shorter blond man who would almost remind him of the Master’s last form if not for his kind, tired eyes.
“Yeah right,” snorted John, almost surprised Sherlock had not yet spoken up, he seemed to be further inspecting their captive… “You’re hardly old enough to have graduated University, never mind medical school.”
John was surprised, then, to see the stranger in his bow-tie, who couldn’t have been more than 30, smile with eyes which were older than any he’d ever seen. “You must be an actual doctor, then,” guessed this fantastical being, reaching out a friendly hand. “A doctor with a gun and a brooding friend like this? I’ll bet you’ve got a great story to tell. Love a good story.”
This soy ice cream feels rejuvenating, invigorating but I can’t shake the feeling of sin from my lips. If I truly want the abs of a god, then should I really be eating food processed by human hands? But a diet of fruits and vegetables is only so tolerable after a 20 mile run.
The word “medical” reminds me of the time when I was considering medicine as a college major. I was in high school and in love with the ER show, specifically George Clooney’s character; the pediatrician. So I took tons of bio and anatomy in HS ready to be on the pre-med track in college. Once I started college, I decided medicine was not for me and went to the business/technology track.
Health problem solvers. Provide treatment for any sort of health condition or injury.
medicinal, disease, cancer, multiple myeloma, kemo, sick, coma, hospital, ER,
hospital, patience’s, my mom is a pediatric nurse, little kids, doctor, nurse, gross food at the house.
When I need stitches in my knee, It was scary :(
Medical reminds me of a doctors office. Actually, more like a hospital. It also reminds me of medical school. I’m going to list the doctors. Cardiologist, neurologist, psychiatrist, oncologist, pediatrician, geriatrics, orthopedist, surgeon. Does a dentist count? I want to be a neurologist.
Medical. Help. Care. Necessity. Transportation. Assistance. Ambulance. Medicine. Hospital. House. Doctor. Scrubs. J.D.
The time flies as I sit outside in the waiting room. The hours tick by faster than the minutes do and I start to tap my foot as it goes on and on. The doctor finally comes out and looks down at me as I slowly stand up.
“I’m sorry ma’am, she’s gone,” he says sadly.
I cry and look away quickly.
helping, caring, honest/trustworthy people, lots of school. hospitals, nurses, surgery, white sheets, doctors, medicine, shots, stickers, candy, x-rays, pain
I am an aspiring anesthesiologist. This is a specialized profession in the medical field. I plan to attend East Carolina University or Appalachian State University for Nursing and move to California to get my graduate degree in Anesthesia.
Cute doctors (: diseases, operating rooms, greys anatomy, blood, medicine, hospitals! umm….
My grandpa was a pediatrician. He said that one time a kid puked on his tie. I don’t think I could deal with that… His office smelled like sanitizer and little kids.
doctor, nurse, LOTS of schooling, aid, helping, quite intelligent, medical people get paid really well, stethoscope, superheroes of the average world.
doctor
sick
long white coats
needles
x-ray
smocks
nurses
televisions
waiting room
sadness
I had no idea how long it had been. It was as though my body was not my own. Those with medical qualifications were baffled and excited in a strange cocktail of emotions that arise only when a situation presents both a challenge and a change..from the hum drum of standard procedures…
i thought medical is one of the words i would relate only toward the end of my life… but that wasn’t the case. i have an illness now, and i go to more than one hospitals. but it had me realize that i really need to value my health and body, not just my soul.
I hate the medical world. I think lots of doctors see themselves as almighty gods.
It pisses me off the way everyone has to kowtow to a frigging doctor’s schedule. When you go there, which I avoid doing at all costs, you are treated in a subservient way. You are make to wait wait wait until it fits THEIR time frame . There is no appreciation for your own time.
i started watching grey’s anatomy…its pretty cool. a lot of dirty medical stuff that gross you out but i like the story. its worth a try for everyone :)
Problems are something I feel lucky of enough not to have. This kind of problem can kill your spirits and your pocketbook. I also think of the smell of antiseptic.
Medical people have been really leading me a merry chase. It turns out that much of the advice they have given me isn’t strictly true, and certainly not often in my best interests. Overall, my trust in the medical profession has been eroded lately.
The medical community were enraptured at the sight. Two eyeless heads joined in a single torso and ending with a serpentine tail. Not only was such a sight an uncommon occurance at the Royal James hospital, but nobody could tell what it really was. Was it human?
In order to receive any ethical treatment you had to have insurance. But not the typical one use to sign for and pay a monthly fee to obtain. This insurance required a bet against yourself, and so needed to be signed with heart. Matters of the blod sort were too hard to handle on paper.
My parents have always wanted me to get into the medical field. A passion I don’t have. They say they want me to do what I love, yet they beg me to practice medicine.
“A little self-diagnosis never hurt anyone,” she claimed, scrawling symptoms on a pad of paper, playing doctor-psychiatrist to her own inner demons. If only she could pinpoint the source of her neuroses, then perhaps she could treat them medically and finally be free of all this.
He kissed with medical precision, his lips firm and precise, his movements methodical and practiced. His hands spoke of his experience with a scalpel, strong and experienced but still gentle, as though you were his most delicate dissection to date.
She loves a bit of medical: self-diagnosis, fitting the symptoms to match her mood; which is usually desperate tinged with anger. She’s dull, you see, and has to find a way to capture some attention. Since being a little girl with a grazed knee, she realised this was the fastest way to get what she wanted. Along came tissues, cream and sympathy, plasters and cuddles. And so on this bleak, boring Thursday, she simply threw herself down the stairs.
He breathed in evenly as he aligned the needle’s point with the taught flesh over the vessel, and held it when the point sunk in, biting his lower lip just so as he pushed down the plunger. He measured time under his breath, tapping his tongue against his teeth as he recited the numbers in his head, and then exhaled slowly as he removed the needle, careful not to rush or to pull more than a single bead of blood to the surface. There was something special about the way a syringe slipped through skin and found its mark in a vessel, something that left him breathless and wondering why having such power never got old. His medical experience didn’t exceed his own fervent curiosity; neither was he a doctor or a nurse, because that took the kind of person he was exactly not, but it was a special privilege to be allowed to stick someone with a needle, some sort of erotic thrill to be had that got to him better than anything else, an intoxicating, perfectly balanced combination of having power over the patient but also having their complete trust even while he caused them pain for a greater good. He imagined his experience was far separated from that of real physicians, but even so, his patients never complained about his special form of treatment.
Take me in and give me
a shot of your medicine.
Make my face numb
and then my chest
and then my ribs
and then my ankles
and then I sigh
because I know
just how far away you are.
what does it mean to be in the medical field. does it mean that you must be selfless in order to care for those in need? also, how do you choose which field you want to be in? the options you have could be endless.
Predictable.
Emotional.
Irrational.
Divorcing my body from it’s wisdom.
Healing.
Beating.
Breathing new life from pills, cells, dots and dashes.
New domain using old science, I ask my body for the answer.
It pumps me full of love.
My medical degree has eluded me but despite that turn of events my life is everything I had ever hoped for.
medical is artificial – we are our own health doctors and we can medicate ourselves –
lets go back to when we knew herbs and holistic medicaments to help us out…
I’ve been wanting to get into the medical field for a while, now. Whether I make it or not is up to me and my determination and how much integrity I have. My self-esteem will also have to play a role in it. I need to
She wanted to go medical. She wanted to go law. She wanted to go wherever she could to make people happy. But where did she want to go? She wanted to be free. She wanted to be with the birds, flying up above the clouds, soaring ever so freely across the skies, without a worry in the world. She wanted to be.
She wanted to go medical. She wanted to go law. She wanted to go wherever she could to make people happy. But where did she want to go? She wanted to be free. She wanted to be with the birds, flying up above the clouds, soaring ever so freely across the skies, without a worry in the world. She wanted to be.
Sickness is a drag. It makes me remember my husband’s battle with cancer and the incredibly difficult time I had coping.
kings, face down–that’s the worst card you could have pulled.
everything’s a phone call away.
every one is guernica.
there are four little shining brown eyes peering out from under dirty blonde, too-long bangs that need a daddy more than i need a muse at midnight on a wednesday.
Notwithstanding the night of tremors and illusionations, his mind broke like an ancient vase against a marble floor.
Medical, clean, sterile. That’s how they think they should be treating her. No one seems to think that maybe all she needs is a bit of attention, a tiny bit of praise, someone who looks at her and sees something other than disease.
The two Londoners had unknowingly pinned a Gallifreyan against a brick wall in a dark alley. Having caught him suspiciously breaking into a high-tech facility, Sherlock feared that the tall, gangly man in the tweed jacket had been another member of Moriarty’s web. John, not familiar with the technology contained in the stranger’s little green-bulbed instrument with extendable claws, had pointed his gun at him for a sense of safety.
“Whatever went wrong,” pleaded the man, both hands in the air against the wall, “I can assure you with… um.. about eighty six percent certainty that it wasn’t me. Probably.”
John wrinkled his nose at Sherlock in confusion. “Who are you?” he demanded of the stranger, lowering his gun by a couple inches.
“I’m the Doctor,” he claimed, eyes darting back and forth between the darkly-clad man whose cheekbones he could sympathize with, to a shorter blond man who would almost remind him of the Master’s last form if not for his kind, tired eyes.
“Yeah right,” snorted John, almost surprised Sherlock had not yet spoken up, he seemed to be further inspecting their captive… “You’re hardly old enough to have graduated University, never mind medical school.”
John was surprised, then, to see the stranger in his bow-tie, who couldn’t have been more than 30, smile with eyes which were older than any he’d ever seen. “You must be an actual doctor, then,” guessed this fantastical being, reaching out a friendly hand. “A doctor with a gun and a brooding friend like this? I’ll bet you’ve got a great story to tell. Love a good story.”
This soy ice cream feels rejuvenating, invigorating but I can’t shake the feeling of sin from my lips. If I truly want the abs of a god, then should I really be eating food processed by human hands? But a diet of fruits and vegetables is only so tolerable after a 20 mile run.
The word “medical” reminds me of the time when I was considering medicine as a college major. I was in high school and in love with the ER show, specifically George Clooney’s character; the pediatrician. So I took tons of bio and anatomy in HS ready to be on the pre-med track in college. Once I started college, I decided medicine was not for me and went to the business/technology track.