Playing Doctor Novels & Stories

“Oh, hell yeah. That’s a hot doctor name.” She types furiously, then holds her screen up for me to see. There he is. Smiling on the clinic website, looking devastatingly normal in a white coat. His arms are crossed. His jaw is flexing. He looks like he eats granola, runs marathons, and gives orgasms just by speaking in complete sentences. “Oh my God,” she breathes. “He’s so hot. I should make an appointment. Just to see what the fuss is about.” I hurl a breadstick at her head.

the doctor said to us. The young doctor moved forward and bowed. "I'm Doctor Frederick, I will be treating you," he greeted and introduced himself, but I was the only one who replied to him as Darwin was already fuming with anger. It seemed he saw what the doctor was doing as unnecessary and wanted me to be treated as fast as possible.

What could I still use? “You seem like the sort of men that get into scrapes quite often,” I said, in my best professional tone – which was ruined by the way my voice rasped and stung. “I’m a doctor. I’d be of more use to you as a Medic than as a plaything.”

“A pleasure to meet you. You seem quite…” “Young?” The doctor said. “I am. I turn eighteen next month.” “How can you be a doctor?” I asked. “It’s a family business. I’ve studied medicine like you’ve studied how to be a Luna,” he said. “I see. Shall we get this over with, Doctor James?” I asked. “Of course. You can call me Doctor Sylvester, it’s the family name,” Doctor James said. “Isn’t it customary to call doctors by their first name?” I asked.

Jack demanded of the computer. A screen lit up in front of him on the door. Different types of medical professions popped up including emergency, ambulance, and home doctor. He pressed home doctor. A timer of fifteen minutes counted down until their arrival. He answered a few questions about symptoms and age of the patient then slid down the door and sat on the floor. "Someone is on their way. Just hang on, muffin." "I'm sorry," she sniffled. "It's okay. It's not your fault. Nothing bad is going to happen. The doctor will just take a look and if we have to, we'll pay them off. I'm making more than enough money."

“Parents who raise someone like that can’t be any better!” Dr. Hamilton, who was helped forward by a few people, cleared his throat and said, “I’ve practiced medicine for over forty years. I would never falsify records. I personally reviewed this document. Milo was indeed in the dispensing room at the time. I saw him with my own eyes.” Suddenly, a male doctor in a white coat rushed forward. He grabbed my mom by the hair and slammed her head against a nearby bulletin board. She screamed as blood immediately began seeping from her forehead.

If he wants to be one of those doctors who only treats patients for money, that’s not my problem. As for me, I know what kind of doctor I’m going to be. I may or may not deserve to be a doctor, but I am one, and I’m going to do my best to save as many lives as I can. I’m not going to turn away anyone who needs my help. That’s how I’m going to survive – by knowing I’m saving lives, that I’m helping others. Not just that, I’m going to thrive.

I'm the problem! The Doctor is a nice guy though. Apparently, he's the youngest pack doctor that this Pack ever had so that means he's better than the other pack doctors before him. “Would you like to try your luck by healing that patient's wound?” He asks when he notices that I'm observing him intently as he treats one of the patients. Ashamed that I've been caught, I quickly shake my head. “Oh, no. I'm so sorry for staring, it's just so fascinating, being able to treat and heal like that and all. And even if I want to, I don't have any ounce of treating magic in me.” I admit, which is true.

Just then, someone stepped forward from the crowd. "Isn’t this the doctor from yesterday, the one responsible for that botched surgery? I heard he caused his patient's death, and then committed suicide for fear of being punished. I suppose it's one life for another, but pity the victim’s family! The poor lady. So young, and already widowed by her husband's death..." Tears still streaking my face, I stood up and bowed deeply to the person who spoke.

The doctor said. "Are the diagnoses for Sophia correct? Is she really asthmatic because I am going to get her treated abroad." I said this as another means to get the doctor to spill out the truth. His delays made me suspicious. "Is there a reason you are not saying anything?" I asked out of the anger I felt. "Hmm, am i not doing a good job, she is under medications, and you know that I have potential skills as a doctor with a diplomat in that field." The doctor said.