People were born for a reason: to help other people. As a race, we couldn’t survive unless we had someone to help us. Or as my mother used to say, “We are all handicaps that are forced to rely on the kindness of others.” Pretty poetic huh? Not that I’m complaining about my life. But here are the brutal facts. I’m an intern at a hospital and for all I know tomorrow could be just as crazy as yesterday or today. You never know at Washington Hope Hospital. It’s a nice hospital but some of the things that happen there belong in a tabloid magazine. And unfortunately, it all or at least mostly seems to stem back to me. Me, I’m an obsessive compulsive that never gets out, always forgets to turn the lights off, and can’t ever decide what kind of coffee to get when I am out. Getting out, a rare occurrence for me, is something that I need. I’m a woman who needs social interaction, hell the last movie I saw in theaters was Titanic. Pretty bad right? Not as bad as you might think. I get out once or twice a week to Blue’s Bar. It’s not the nicest place but damn they have good beer. Ok my point? I’m going to give you a glimpse of my life, starting with my arrival at Washington Hope. And trust me, the gory details are hardly false. Who would make up that she slept with her supervisor who turned out to be married? Not me. I’m Kendal Bridger.