It’s cold.  Not just cold, but wet and cold.  And I feel like whining about it as I sit curled up next to the heater wearing a sweater, a longer sweater over that, a huge scarf, tights, pants, wool socks and slipper.  Welcome to the next four months of my life.  It is not like I didn’t survive six Northeastern winters in a row, so why do I feel like such a wimp this time around?  Any tips appreciated.

Anyway.  Did you know that I work at a hospital?  That my colleagues are all medical doctors and lab technicians?  It is an interesting experience for me, since aside from actual medical examinations (and a brief few months dating a med student), I have actually managed to live my life without knowing too many medical doctors.  They all walk fast and talk as fast as they walk.  I try to catch as much as I can, but the sheer speed of their speech sometimes does me in, and before I can even ask, “Koennen Sie bitte langsam sprechen?” they are usually out the door and on to the next thing.

I try to forget that there is a morgue in the basement, but once in awhile one of my supervisors likes to threaten me with a visit there.  During one of our first meetings, he asked “Would you be able to handle THIS?” and flipped up a photograph of a woman who had been fatally beaten (and believe me, it sounds pretty sinister when asked in German).  I really had to fight the urge to roll my eyes, but last time I checked, my goal this year is to talk to LIVING women.

My little cubby hole is located in a small building which houses our laboratory.  Forensic laboratory, to be exact.  Where they analyze DNA and such.  Sometimes, when the doorbell rings and I answer it, it is a scruffy looking guy holding a paper cup filled with vials of blood to drop off for testing.  I try not too look too closely as I set them down on the desk of one of the lab techs.  Then I return to my cubby and snuggle up to my public health journals.