“Good morning Los Angeles, today’s forecast calls for” The alarm clock went silent as a grumpy Moira reached an arm out and snoozed it one more time.  She poked her head out from underneath the covers long enough to peer over at the red numbers on the display glaring back at her, revealing the awful truth that it was indeed six o’clock.

“Damnit” she cursed under her breath, rolling out of bed and rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands “Six o’clock always comes too fucking earlywonder what kind of admissions I’ll get today”.

Bleary eyed with the sticky sleep-film still coating her barely open eyes, Moira stumbled into the bathroom, starting up the shower and getting ready for her day.  And it was going to be a doozy.  Her team was on call today, meaning that she’d get nary a wink of sleep tonight and probably look like hell tomorrow morning.  “Oh well, such is life” she thought.

By the time seven o’clock rolled around she’d already been on the wards for a solid half hour, pre-rounding on her patients and making sure she had the scoop before rounds started at eight. 

“So Mr. Jackson, how are you feeling this morning?  Sleep ok?  Any problems over night?  “Ok, I’m going to go ahead and examine you.  That’s it, nice deep breaths.  Good.  Alright, everything looks good; I’ll be back in an hour with the rest of the team.”

“Buzz” her pager goes off, and she heads to the nearest phone to answer.  “What’s up?” “Ms. Black is having some diarrhea, is it ok to give Imodium?”   “Sure, why not?”  “Can you come and write an order for that?  We can’t take verbal orders any more.  New hospital policy.”  “I’ll be right there”.  “Damnit” she mumbles under her breath. 

An hour later

“Morning Moira” the senior resident chirps cheerfully.  “The psych service is full and they’re transferring patients to our service this morning.  We’ve got one of their patients down in the ER getting stabilized after her friends found her bleeding out on the bathroom floor.  Apparently there were some wrist lacs, ER thinks self-inflicted.  Name is Schecter, Jennifer Schecter.  Want to go down there after rounds and see what you can find out?  The ER should be ready for us to admit her by then.  You go ahead and start the orders and I’ll meet you down there after a cup of coffee.”

“Great,” Moira mumbled under her breath “Just because I’m an intern shouldn’t mean that I have to baby sit looney toons!  This is the medicine service for Christ’s sake, and I get stuck with some cutter who the psych residents are too lazy to admit for themselves?  Damn, my life sucks.”