Sometimes I doubt whether I picked the right specialty.
Then I get to do something brilliant and orthopaedic like fix dislocated shoulders with my bare hands, and I remember. Nothing quite like the crunch of bones in the morning.
This was a good week.
Carrie says she's working on the book, which is completely insane because she's barely getting any sleep with Bryce as it is, but I don't doubt that she's writing anyway. It's three-quarters finished, at least since I last heard, but I don't know if it's wise for her to try to publish it now.
Anyway, complementary medicine is never going to get anywhere. No pureblood is ever going to feel comfortable with stitches, nonetheless radiation treatments and chemo. They have their own ways of dealing, but Muggle medicine has benefits they'll never reap, because science has discovered things that magic never will.
I've been going to see Tess. Not see her, just check on her. I did end up sleeping with her -- but just sleeping.
I don't think we're going to be having sex again any time soon.
Good thing, because there's a French girl I've got my eye on.
One of these days I'll stop WAITING for her. Right?