On living the good life

[Trolldor]

I hate my job, it's a bitch, but it's easy. I get two hundred a day for using the internet and occassionaly scanning something. I can process several thousand dollars in a single day when it's busy and have absolutely no inclination to take a cent of it because my life is so damn easy.
I don't need it.
But every now and then I see something which makes me appreciate just how easy my life is, in a cruel and disgusting way.
The first was a "Do Not Resucsitate" order from an old Irishman and a patient of my dad's who used to joke with me about all sorts of things, and bitch about religion. The two other signatures were from two of his daughters.
The second was a report about a woman suffering from depression because she can't have children, and there was serious concern for her health.
I handle probably 200 individual reports per month, and I don't make it a habit to read them, but when you're scouring page after page of different formats for dates of submission for the records, you occasionally just notice key words.
And they make you stop what it is you're doing because there's something about the way it's phrase, so matter of fact, so devoid of emotion, that makes it so damn real.