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Sissy Hospital Pdf

Amanda BarnhartAmanda was born in Germany, only being there for 3 short years she then came to Missouri. She moved often, always in Missouri though. She moved to Mid-Missouri in 2013 where she worked at an animal hospital in Jefferson City as a Veterinary Assistant for two and a half years before meeting her husband and moving to Columbia in 2016. She was hired on at the VHC in February of 2017, working part-time. She and her husband married July 2017. In December 2018 Amanda joined the Neurology team. She now lives just outside of Columbia, with her husband, their dog Rocky, and cat Bullwinkle. Since settling down she has decided to continue her education with eventual goals of becoming a registered veterinary technician.

Sissy Hospital Pdf


In his work, on gender identity in children, Green used common English expressions like "sissy boy" and "tomboy" in the titles of some of his publications. His choice of terminology was criticized as offensive.[22]

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FICTION Merry Christmas, SNF Elsie Schmied "Mrs. Morrison just died," said the night nurse, "and . . ." "Wait. Let me get my coat off first," Joan said, and walked through the nursing station to hang her coat on the back of the door. She combed her short, unfashionably cut dark hair, donned a lab coat over her white uniform and clipped her supervisory badge on the lapel. She transferred an envelope from her purse to her uniform pocket and glanced into the mirror, displeased with the crow's feet around her eyes and the frown lines beginning to show on her high forehead. Then smoothing a pale lipstick over her lips and adjusting her glasses, she turned and reentered the station. "Okay, I'm ready now," she said. "You said Mrs. Morrison died." "Yes. And Debbie won't be in. She had an accident last night. The doctor won't let her work for a couple of days. Then Sissy called and said her car wouldn't start. I told her she should get a ride or a jump or something." "Good." Joan selected a chocolate-covered cherry from one of the boxes of Christmas candy that visitors had given the staff of the Skilled Nursing Facility, or SNF as they called it. "Mmmm. I never have candy at home. I'll probably be eating chocolate all day, and it's not even seven a.m." She licked her fingers and glanced over at the other nurse. "How's Chris?" "Same." "Hmm. Ready for report?" "Not yet. I have to finish the papers on Mrs. Morrison. The ambulance will be here in a little while." "Her family here?" "Her daughter. She spent the night." "How's she doing?" "All right, I guess. She called the rest of the family." EMe Schmied, Oak Ridge, Tennessee, worked as a registered nursefor many years, she says, and knows well the "miracles that can happen." She is currently afreelance writer, and has been published in nursing journals and anthologies. 57 Joan pulled some papers off the shelf. "I'd better change the assignments . IfSissy doesn't show up, the others have to do her patients. Can any of your aides stay over to help with breakfast?" "You might ask, but I doubt it. They're probably halfway out the door by now. After all, it is Christmas Eve." Joan sighed. "I'm going to make quick rounds and check the IVs. Page me if you need me." The ubiquitous stuffy odors mixed with disinfectant assailed her as she strode toward the end of the hall, the skirts of her lab coat flapping as she walked. Long legs help in this business, she thought. When she reached the end room, Joan braced herself at the closed door. Chris was in there. Joan remembered the first time she met Chris, a junior in the nursing program at the university who planned to work at the SNF after graduation . Chris was an attractive, vivacious student who made the dean's list the first semester. Between terms she worked as a nursing assistant, "to get more experience" she said. The entire staff enjoyed working with her, and the patients in the SNF adored her. Joan felt as if she had lost a sister when she heard about the semitrailer skidding into Chris's car on the interstate. The accident left the twenty-year-old girl comatose and paraplegic. In the three months since the accident, she had never responded. When Joan visited the hospital intensive care unit to see Chris, she ran into her old teammates. "Hey, Joan. Good to see you. When are you coming back here where you belong?" "Never. I'm here to see Chris Cummins. How's she doing?" "No real change. Look for yourself." The patient was almost hidden by the equipment. A pair of hooks, like ice tongs, were attached to the sides of her head and connected to a traction device. Monitors fastened to her head and her chest beeped rhythmically. Fluids ran through intravenous tubes plugged into her arms and into orifices hidden under the sheet. She looked more like a bionic creature than a living person. It was hard to recognize...


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