The Worst Kind of Desperation

As you already know, I refuse to buy my own pens. With all of the “free” (my tuition money doesn’t say it’s free!) paraphanalia routinely pushed in my direction by the medical school or the drug representatives that leave their marketing detritus at my attending’s office, there’s just no reason to. Except, today I found that I was without writing implement. As has happened in the past, I must have accidentally left my pens and highlighters on my desk at home when I was studying.

So, I asked to borrow a friend’s pen in my morning class. Then later, I had to do the same thing with another friend in the library. I had an appointment at the Student Health Center today, though, and as I was checking out, I eyed the multiple buckets of communal pens greedily. I knew I had a few more hours of studying left at school before I headed home and that I would need a pen to make notes. So, I did it.

I took a pen from the Student Health Center.

I know you are wondering why I didn’t just take my chances with a pen from the DC sewer, coated in toxoplasmosis, but I was feeling especially desperate. Then, I got to the library and found that I had both a pen and a highlighter in the bottom of my school bag. I hope the hospital grade disinfectant I slathered that pen with before using it is in fact, hospital grade.