HERMIONE
I sit in my office, cringing at the memory of my embarrassing moment.
I've clearly lost my edge after indulging in a two-week pleasure trip. It's taken a toll on my skills, and basic functions now feel like a struggle.
"Good grief!" I squeeze my eyes shut in mortification as I recall the morning's event, the humiliation leaving a lingering sense of discomfort.
I stare at my hands, where blood splattered while I was milking the patient's IV tubing. It's not a task I'd typically undertake, but a resident was struggling, and I stepped in to assist.
I wince as I remember chastising the resident for their inability to perform such a basic procedure, only to botch it myself.
My gaze drifts to my stained lab coat, which I tossed into the laundry basket as soon as I burst into my
