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Fontwell: So do you have anything to say for yourself, Dr. Andersson?
Ernest didn’t say anything. Not out of a want to do so.
He just couldn’t talk at the moment.
Fontwell: You know, I thought you would have handled my rejection of releasing your patients well. You seemed like such a reasonable fellow.
But not even ten minutes after our meeting and what do I hear about? You throwing a tantrum in front of all of your fellow doctors.
Ernest squinted at the word being used.
Tantrum
It was exactly the thing he feared to hear in this interaction. And even though he knew that what had happened wasn’t one, he still looked down in shame. He should’ve been able to control it. He should known better than to do so at a place like this. He should’ve kept a brave face for his friends.
But instead he made a show of himself.
Fontwell: I am immensely disappointed, Dr. Andersson. You had such promise! And yet you squandered it. I’m sad to say Doctor, I have no choice but to fire you.
Ernest looked up at him, wanting to react in some way with a What or a Why but
All he did was just stare as his boss wrote on a pink slip.
Fontwell: Oh, don’t be so surprised Doctor. Y’know we can’t have mad doctors just running around in this hospital.
Mad
A word he’d never thought he’d hear be prescribed towards him. He's been called many things over the course of his life but never mad. It felt… strange.
Fontwell: Now, I want you gone by tomorrow morning. Gives you enough to say your farewells and pack your things, I’m sure of it.
Ernest looked down at the piece of pink paper. Maybe it was how nauseous and exhausted he had felt, but it didn’t quite look real. It looked blurry and almost out of a painting.
Fontwell: I think that’s enough dilly dallying, don’t you think? It’s been nice working with you, Dr. Andersson. You have been quite… interesting to say the least. I hope you have better luck at your next job.
With that, he slammed the door(Ernest thought that he had done it loudly on purpose to put more salt in the wound) and leaving Ernest standing in front of his office.
Ernest just stood there, defeated. He wasn’t sure what to do next. He couldn’t just leave his patients here. They would all die, never being allowed to live their own lives. Never allowed to improve their lives. Having to deal with constant abuse from the doctors here.
All because they took effort to be understood. Took time to make progress.
Just discarded as loss causes. All because they couldn’t “cure” them in a week.
It just wasn’t fair.
He couldn’t leave them here.
He wouldn’t leave them here.
Ernest put the paper away in his doctor’s coat.
He had a whole day to prepare to leave.
And he was gonna make it count.