Mistaken Identity
So there I was, skulking around the bowels of the hospital looking for morning report. As I walk down a particularly ominous looking hallway, what to my wandering eyes should appear but an attending physician staring intently into a file. He looks up at me, makes eye contact, smiles, and says, "Hello, Cara."
Naturally I turn around to see if I was being followed: empty hallway. I turn back in time to see him buried in his file again as he walks past me. This confuses me for several reasons.
The second option, and I hate to even suggest it, is that the doctor was schizophrenic. Or worse yet, a schizophrenic patient who stole a doctor's white coat and badge. Or worst of all, a psychopath snuck into the hospital, ate the doctor, put on his clothes, and called me Cara to confuse me long enough to make his getaway. And now he's roaming around the city making "house calls" - eating unsuspecting agoraphobics, like some kind of humanized land-shark! God help us...
I've been known to sleep walk from time to time (every night), which brings me to option the third: I've taken on the nocturnal personality of Cara, the Welsh respiratory therapist. I may be dressing up in women's clothing, makeup and wigs and wandering around the hospital in a somnolent daze giving out unlicensed breathing treatments. Of course my gentle features and kind demeanor have made me quite popular among graveyard-shifters. I only hope I haven't let any of the doctors go too far with me.
The last option is that I misheard the physician. But that's ridiculous. Almost too absurd to even mention.
7/0/3
Naturally I turn around to see if I was being followed: empty hallway. I turn back in time to see him buried in his file again as he walks past me. This confuses me for several reasons.
- I've never met this doctor before.
- My name isn't Cara.
- I believed, up until this encounter, that I looked nothing like a female
The second option, and I hate to even suggest it, is that the doctor was schizophrenic. Or worse yet, a schizophrenic patient who stole a doctor's white coat and badge. Or worst of all, a psychopath snuck into the hospital, ate the doctor, put on his clothes, and called me Cara to confuse me long enough to make his getaway. And now he's roaming around the city making "house calls" - eating unsuspecting agoraphobics, like some kind of humanized land-shark! God help us...
I've been known to sleep walk from time to time (every night), which brings me to option the third: I've taken on the nocturnal personality of Cara, the Welsh respiratory therapist. I may be dressing up in women's clothing, makeup and wigs and wandering around the hospital in a somnolent daze giving out unlicensed breathing treatments. Of course my gentle features and kind demeanor have made me quite popular among graveyard-shifters. I only hope I haven't let any of the doctors go too far with me.
The last option is that I misheard the physician. But that's ridiculous. Almost too absurd to even mention.
7/0/3
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