The world is full of naught but scum... I always thought that when I became a doctor... that somehow... well you know the story. Anyone who has has that dream does. I thought that I'd be making a difference. These days I just don't know.
This economy... produces nasty things. I can't seem to put it any other way. I treat them day in day out. The druggies, the rapists, the alcoholics. New York has fallen down the cracks... so will the world. Or maybe it already has.
Even the doctors themselves barely employ ethics. It's all about the profit.
This economy produces some nasty things.
This one guy came in here today, knife wound. If you can call it that. He was missing a hand. He comes to me and he says, " C'mon, you got to give me some, I'm dying here!", drug addict... probably cut the hand off himself.
I reply, "No."
Next thing I know I'm on the table, a knife at my side, the man at my face. " Give me the goddam stuff!"
"No."
It's a busy hospital, the guy's off my case soon enough. Then not long after that back on the streets. Too long after that I say.
More than once one of them has tried to rape me... more than once they've come close... but never that close. Only close enough to believe that they had won. It's a busy hospital.
Maybe I still have time to make a difference... I doubt it.
This economy produces some nasty things...
These last few weeks I've been hearing voices... strange voices, in my head. They tell me to... kill them. I don't understand why... It's not my voice... Why would I kill them.
They'll do the job themselves.
The voices are driving me to the brink. I'm standing over the edge... over the edge?
Do I really have no choice? I'm not a killer!
I'm a doctor... a doctor in a dying world.
I go down there, to that hospital, but to what avail. There. is. no. hope.
Oh God! I'm losing it...
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