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Blood on my hands

2pm. Malpractice Investigation. Stanford Hospital.

Alright, you want the truth — yes, I did kill a man. Is that what you want to hear? Are you happy now? But before you rush off to get me fired, you should know that the circumstances were extremely mitigating.

I’d been working at my other job for 8 hours, then there were Friday night drinks and I was catching the bus home. A man came up to me and showed me a small piece of glass sticking into his right arm.

The piece of glass appeared to be a minor injury, capable of being treated by an idiot. So even though I was on a bus and slightly drunk, I decided to give it a go. I said:
Trauma Centre Screenshot

I was relaxed about the procedure. The patient blood pressure was 130 over 70 and the pulse was 80, which is not mentioned on his chart. I could take my time. The conditions in the bus were sub-optimal and hindered me more than I realised. Normally an operation looks like this:
Trauma Centre Screenshot

Today, there were smudges, fingerprints and dust on my glasses:
Trauma Centre Screenshot

My drinking had made me over confident and blurred my vision:
Trauma Centre Screenshot

The bus was swerving from side to side:
Trauma Centre Screenshot

The bright afternoon light made it difficult to see:
Trauma Centre Screenshot

And then in she walked:
Trauma Centre Screenshot

I lost blood pressure in my brain:
Trauma Centre Screenshot

I tried to pick up a pair of tweezers to extract the glass. “Ow!” said the patient.
“Sorry, that must be the syringe,” I apologised.
“Argh!” said the patient.
“Whoops, that’s the laser.” I apologised again.
“ARRGH …” said the patient.
I said “Good, he’s fainted from the pain.”
“Excuse me doctor,” said the hot nurse, “you’re holding the scalpel.”
“Hello Nurse!” I helpfully replied.
“Doctor, if you could stop looking at my breasts for one second, you’d see that the patient is dying.”
“No problem,” I answered. This was my chance to show off my mad skills to the hot nurse. “I’ve got the Healing Touch. I just draw a five sided star like this, and time slows down.”
“Doctor! You’re still holding the scalpel! The patient is hemorrhaging from numerous wounds.”
“No problemo. I’ll use some of that magic green healing goop.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Are you even a real doctor?” she shouted.
And that’s when we arrived at the hospital.

The Chief Malpractice Investigator shook his head in disbelief. “It’s a good thing for you that all our doctors have automatic save insurance. Would you like to reload?”
“Yes, please.”