Diana Carver, age 19...with menacing blank spaces next to “diagnosis” and “comments.” Under “treatment,” a laundry list of about five anti-depressive and anti-psychosis drugs that would be lethal for a normal human being. It was a little more than intimidating for a 23-year-old like Callinda to take on a case like this, fresh out of grad school, but she felt it was about time people respected her around the ward.
“She's all yours, Calli. Good luck,” Cliff said with a dubious glance. He’d been unsuccessfully treating Diana for eight months – with everything from Zoloft to Prozac to Valium – and the drug interactions only resulted in a frightening hair loss and frenzied bursts of binging and purging anything of nutritional value that went into her. But Callinda had begged to take this case. She’d been shadowing Cliff for five of the eight months, and thought it was time for a female figure to take the lead. Cliff’s deep baritone voice was almost more intimidating than taking the case alone, anyway, and all the head doctors were busy with some hopeful family crisis in the South wing. So they let her have this “Class 5: ambiguous peculiarity.”
