My first short story

   I am writing down the bones. Well, not just the bones, but also everything attached to them; the different muscles and tendons and ligaments, and all the organs. It’s my life. I work in the records department of one of the largest hospitals in the city. If you want to get specific, I’m a medical transcriptionist. It’s a very important job, because we have so many patients the doctors don’t have enough time to write down all the notes from each examination on the patient’s charts. Instead they record their examinations and send the recordings to us. Then we transcribe the notes they make onto the patients charts.
    I’m one of three transcriptionists that work in this hospital. The other two are quite interesting characters. Trasi has worked here the longest. She’s a large black woman that mothers everyone she meets. The other one, Frank, is a relatively cute guy. I made the mistake of saying this to Charlie, Frank’s boyfriend, once. I had my head almost ripped off. I was informed that Frank was the most amazing and beautiful creature on the planet. I remember the day I met them.
    It was my first day on the job, and I was scared shitless. I’d worked as a medical transcriptionist before, but those jobs were always in small family practices. This was the first time I’d ever worked in a large hospital. I walked through the main doors to the hospital and asked where the elevators were. After going the wrong way about five times, I finally found the elevators that could take me to the 14th floor. This was where the administrative support staff worked. The medical transcriptionists had a nice little office right near the elevator. There was a decent sized common room with three doors leading off into three offices. I found the door that lead to my office and opened it.
    “Oh, sorry, I must have the wrong room” I said. I said this because the office I had just stepped into contained a large woman with skin the color of wet soil.
“No dear, you’ve got the right office. I’m Trasi, that’s with an ‘I’, your supervisor. But don’t you go calling me that. Just Trasi works for me. I’m only called the supervisor because I’ve worked here longer than the other guy. Anyway, you can have your office; I was just finishing cleaning up for you.”
    She stepped away from my desk, and I saw what she meant by “cleaning up.” There was a plate of chocolate chip cookies sitting on my desk, with a card that said “Welcome to the office!” on it.
    They were still warm. Those were possibly the best cookies I’d ever had.
“Hey, Trasi! The new girl here yet?” This new voice floated in through the door from the communal area, it was decidedly masculine. “We gonna test her now, or wait until it’s too late for her to back out?”
    Ah great, I thought, not even twelve hours into the job and already I’m getting hazed. This has to be against the Geneva Convention or something.
“Aw Frank, knock it off, you’re scaring the new girl. Don’t worry dear, we aren’t gonna test you.” Trasi cut in.
    Then Frank walked into my office, and my breath caught in my throat. This guy was average height, fairly skinny, and really cute. And not in a normal cute kinda way, but in an oh-gods-I-want-to-shove-him-up-against-a-wall-and-do-dirty-dirty-things-to-him kinda way.
      “Sorry I’m late Trasi, Charlie gave me a ride and it took me a while to wake him up.”
      “Yeah right” Trasi laughed “Like it was the waking him up part that made you late.”
      Frank turned a bright red, and I must admit I was feeling a little confused. My confusion must have shown, because what Frank said next explained everything.
      “Charlie is my boyfriend.”
      Damn it, why do all the cute ones have to be gay? I wondered.
      That was an interesting day. As it turned out, I was going to get tested. Charlie, Frank’s boyfriend, was an intern in the ER, and the “test” was to do nothing but his cases. They figured if I could transcribe those, I could transcribe anything. I must say, they were right.
      I wrote about some horrible things during that week, but I also got to write about some miracles. The young child who came in with a dog bite, who was sent home the same day without needing stitches. The man who came in the midst of a psychotic break, whom Charlie managed to calm down enough to give him a dose of anti psychotics just by talking to him. The honeymooning couple that came in when the wife went into labor, and the child named after Charlie that left with them.
      It has been a full five years working with those two, and as I lay here recovering from what appears to be a diabetic stroke, I am cheered by the fact that I have such great people looking after me.