Post by Velvet on Oct 13, 2006 21:19:17 GMT
A clean, gray paved path runs up the series of steps and into the rotating glass doors of North Retters main hospital. An alternate entrance path of a poured concrete ramp enters at the side, catering for the more disabled customers that frequent the place.
Beyond the doors, the scent of sterilisers and bleach is masked by the attempted reproduction of fresh mountain air, little more then a concoction of chemicals, removing yet more of the unwholesome germs and dirt.
Busy nurses walk briskly from the new pine admissions desk, the tapping of uniformed heals echoing down the ceramic floored corridors. Behind the main desk sits a woman in the office uniform, smiling politely, excusing herself to answer the busy phone at her side, clicking the keys of her computer in an upbeat manner.
Not more then a few meters away from the admissions desk, are the corridors lined with wards, labeled and marked clearly, that even the most shortsighted of people could read without hesitation. Private rooms move a little further away, continuing into the maze of paths or never ending blue and white tiles.
To the end of the hospital is the cafeteria, in which worried families and regular patients, looking for some interest, gather, looking for comfort in the bottom of a cup of fruit tea, pushing about half eaten sandwiches and muffins on their plates.
Beyond the doors, the scent of sterilisers and bleach is masked by the attempted reproduction of fresh mountain air, little more then a concoction of chemicals, removing yet more of the unwholesome germs and dirt.
Busy nurses walk briskly from the new pine admissions desk, the tapping of uniformed heals echoing down the ceramic floored corridors. Behind the main desk sits a woman in the office uniform, smiling politely, excusing herself to answer the busy phone at her side, clicking the keys of her computer in an upbeat manner.
Not more then a few meters away from the admissions desk, are the corridors lined with wards, labeled and marked clearly, that even the most shortsighted of people could read without hesitation. Private rooms move a little further away, continuing into the maze of paths or never ending blue and white tiles.
To the end of the hospital is the cafeteria, in which worried families and regular patients, looking for some interest, gather, looking for comfort in the bottom of a cup of fruit tea, pushing about half eaten sandwiches and muffins on their plates.
