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Robert Chase, M.D.
10 October 2019 @ 04:08 am



"It had better be an emergency."
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Robert Chase, M.D.
15 January 2012 @ 04:59 am
[Clinic hours are over.

The doctor will see you now @intheblanks at Polychromatic on Dreamwidth]
 
 
Robert Chase, M.D.
04 January 2012 @ 02:13 am
[January first, and the new year's starting off with a beaut of a day. In case you missed it, the video display is tilted upward to a sky of perfect blue, then down, to golden sand and golden skin - winter has just about bleached him of a tan but his colouring has a natural aversion to pallor.

When Chase leans over the display, he looks relaxed, as at home as he gets these days.]


Timekeeping. What sense is that, about the seventh?

[Uncurling fingers illustrate the count.]

Sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste, proprioception, circadian rhythm. About the seventh. We're all designed to keep a certain time cycle. If taste's made possible by buds on your tongue, and sight by light refracting through a ball of jelly, your timekeeper is two little groups of cells located right at the centre of your brain's base. Innate.

Screw with it and you make people sick, depressed, paranoid or otherwise imbalanced. Not to mention debatably flouting the Geneva Convention.

We need to know when we are. If we don't, we go crazy—or we make something up.

So... what year is it, again?

[He smiles and leans back, the camera picking up salt flecks on his eyelashes, his shoulders. Perhaps a glimpse of the board nearby, staked into the sand.]

Happy day-after-yesterday. All I know is, this is what January's supposed to look like.

Locked to Saya:Collapse )


[OOC: Obviously this is hugely backdated, but please take it as an open thread for the first few days of January. While the weather stays warm, this is where Chase is likely to be filling time between shifts.

ooc: and life interrupted. Now with extra backdating.]
 
 
Robert Chase, M.D.
18 December 2011 @ 05:45 pm
[This evening the city might want to be grateful that Robert Chase has what might be described as a decent singing voice, even when, as now, it's coming out faintly slurred through the wires.]

I ain't laughing,
I didn't hear the joke anyway.
I got my fingers on the window as the snow makes this a prison
Tomorrow will be Christmas Day.
I took you drinking
To say the things that I needed to say.
You drank me under the table like you always do and the radio just plays away,
Those same old songs
Every single year.
We drink, we sing, and I forget the things that I need you to hear

And we argue,
As the snow seals us in for the night.
You say Santa Claus is coming, but I don't care what the song says
That's never gonna sound quite right.
And this ain't New JerseyCollapse )
 
 
 
Robert Chase, M.D.
11 December 2011 @ 11:06 pm
[This is casual, matter-of-fact conversation, directed into Chase's network device as he heads into the city. Some background noise from the square can be heard.]

I realise it's a fallacy based on population densities, but the violent crime rate, here, on non curse days, is incredibly low.

Saw a lot more gun crime on an average day in New Jersey. I'm not qualified to compare the ratio of bad public rapping, but I'd take a bet that's higher, too. It's actually kind of fun. The gun crime, not the rapping. And I mean treating it. Half the time it's a hopeless case, but it's never not interesting.

Survival can be less dependant on aim than the type of cartridge used. People tend to think there's just the entry wound to worry about. Not often true. The last patient I opened up took two shotgun cartridges to the chest. Didn't die immediately, his girlfriend had time to drive him to the ER, still conscious. And then we looked inside him. The pellets from the cartridges had turned the main artery from his heart into a colander. Every major organ was scattered with shot: we even found pellets that had caught a ride in the blood supply down to his legs. Shot in the chest, shrapnel in his ankles.

Needless to say, he was fucked. Pumped 25 litres of blood into him but no one can sew that fast.

Most guns in the United States are owned for home and personal protection. Which is another fallacy, because if you own a gun, statistically, you're more likely to get shot. Here, you're more likely to have one to hand during a curse when you might not be acting like yourself.

I don't have an opinion on whether you should own one or not. Your choice. As long as you know which risk you want to take.

Not sure anything can be done about the rapping.

[And it seems like he's done. Although, hmm. Someone's been decorating out here. This is added, half to himself, before he turns off the device.]

Huh. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

[Chase will be wandering the city, getting coffee and buying a new winter coat, before heading back to the hospital. He is available via audio or for all the in-person run ins.]
 
 
Robert Chase, M.D.
30 November 2011 @ 11:25 pm


Never realised the city had such a significant Spanish population. Huh.


Right. For those of you who don't already know me, I thought an introduction might be worthwhile.

I'm Doctor Robert Chase. I'm a consultant surgeon at the hospital here as well as, by prior commitment as it turns out, holding fort in the ICU.

In other words, get really sick and you might see me on either side of your anaesthetic.

If the problem's a little less serious, I'll be putting in a few clinic hours too. Just to get to know people. One favour. If you've brought along your sniffles to me in the past, I'm likely to act as though we're unacquainted. Little amnesia problem. But I'm making sure to get au fait with all your files, and that's the important part.

See you around.


[tagbacks mostly tomorrow as I have to get up in about 4 hs -_- ]
 
 
Robert Chase, M.D.
20 November 2011 @ 07:08 pm
OK. I appreciate everyone's crazy for the day. I just want to make one thing clear.

I have no idea how any of you know who he is, but Foreman isn't going to want to be with me because it's the only chance he'll ever get to top.
 
 
Robert Chase, M.D.
12 November 2011 @ 06:50 pm
The third day after I got here I walked into a clinic on the edge of the underground and got a job from a guy with a skin condition - don't know the clinical name, we'll call it green scales - who told me he heals with the laying on of hands. Since then, I've found out he only lays on his hands in exchange for a fragment of your soul, which suited him, but not the financial side of the business.

The fifth day I extracted six rotten, serrated teeth from a patient whose mouth had four rows of them. There's no anaesthetist on the books but I wasn't putting my hand in there without knocking him out. Between the rows, I found fragments of bone and meat. And clothing.

The first day, I went through Allison's purse while she was in the bathroom. Couldn't tell you why.

The second, I took clean clothes and food for a week from the welcome centre and found a squat. My phone - this device - rang eleven times. I stuck it in a drawer and tried to wait out the battery life.

The twelfth day I got it out again, noticed the lack of recharge point, and read the network for the first time. I didn't talk to anyone. I found some things with my name on and tried to delete them from the network. I put it back in the drawer.

The twentieth day, I saw Wilson in a coffee shop. I pulled my hood up and tried to work out how many years until Amber, from a distance.

The first day, I was trying not to tell Allison I love her.

The second, I figured out I'm an arsehole if I ever do.

The twenty-seventh day, I gave blood for money. Got told gin spoils the taste. The eighth day I found this bar in the underground 'No trainers, no munitions'.

The thirty-eighth day I asked the guy I worked for if he knew how to stop memories of this place from coming back. He didn't, but I've got a contact name.

Yesterday I lost my job and got punched in the face by the - don't know the technical term, we'll call him a violent prick - whose girlfriend I'd just patched up for the third time since I got here. Wasn't fired, but he made a bloody mess of the clinic after he woke up from the chloral hydrate.

Been here forty days and forty nights before being tempted into saying anything on this. Still haven't paid any rent.