I'm Not Asleep, My Eyes Are Just Closed

This week I celebrated my 28th birthday. This week I was accidentally stabbed with a needle contaminated with the blood of a patient with Hepatitis B. It was all going so well, I thought. The patient had already been screened for HIV and venereal disease and she was in the clear. What are the chances that she would be positive for Hepatitis B? Well, 100% as it turned out. I wasn't terribly upset at first. It was a small nick that didn't bleed much, though it surprised me enough that I yelled in the operating theatre. Everybody froze when they realised what had happened. My colleague felt bad for accidentally stabbing me with the suture needle. As I pointed out, it was an accident. I was double-gloved and we were all following the correct procedures, so it was unfortunate that I got a needlestick injury. What pissed me off was the attitude of the staff when I was trying to get all the various forms filled out and sent off to the correct persons. Their primary concern seemed to b

1. The limited pressing new Delays EP ‘Love Made Visible’. Only 2000 copies available, aacccckkk! 2. A new set of headphones – my long-serving and long-suffering JVCs are falling apart. 3. All the episodes of Dexter that I haven’t seen. The longer I go without any new Dexter the higher the chances I will go to Television Without Pity and ‘spoiler’ myself. 4. World peace. Nah, just kidding.

5058 It’s mocking me. It has been 5058 for a good half an hour now. Surely somebody must be working behind there. I see people moving about but no change in the queue number. I am number 5079. Welcome to the Immigration Department. 5059 I’m bored out of my skull. I’ve read through three different newspapers, including the classifieds, the ingredients on the gum wrapper and all the notices on the information board. (My gum contains sodium stearate which I have never come across in chewing gum before. This is also an indication of how bored I am that I actually bought gum to chew.) 5060 I’m out in the lift lobby calling the hospital to say I’ll be at least another hour an a half. That is actually wishful thinking on my part but I hope to get my papers sorted today. A dozen men in chains march past accompanied by two immigration officers. Both of them are carrying batons. Somehow, they all squeeze into the men’s toilet. I wonder if they get their chains taken off. That reminds me. I need