Dear Urist McChiefofMedicine,
I am writing to inform you that while I was not thrilled when you, a previously unskilled laborer, told me that of all of our starting seven, you were the most willing, and qualified to fill the roll of our chief medical expert... I have nothing but praise for your work to give.
When Urist McBadatmining caused a cave in whilst channeling under a ramp, and broke his left leg, bruised his liver, cheek, hip, and hand, I thought he would just die eventually... but you dedicated every moment of your time to feeding, and bringing water to him while the rest of the fortress scrambled to produce the many items required to get Urist back on his feet. Your incessant nagging about the need for thread fell on deaf ears for a long time... truth be told I thought we had no means to produce the thread you wanted--after a rogue monkey stole our only pig tail seeds... well, I guess I figured Urist was sol. But you went out and foraged until you found a plant that you could turn into a suitable thread--you had a dirt room, with a table, and a bed. We had a murky pool which you were forced to use to clean Urist's cut---the well and filtering system nowhere near completed.
You, untrained, discovered how to properly suture a wound,--you managed to avoid infection, and keep urist from dying. That in itself was an amazing accomplishment, but you went above and beyond, you produced every thread of the cloth you used to dress Urist's wounds. You cut down every tree which was used to make the splint, and crutches he needed. You brought Urist food, and drink while you were hungry, and thirsty--putting him ahead of yourself each step of the way.
I was amazed to an unfathomable extent when I entered the hospital this morning to discover Urist wasn't in bed--but walking, walking to go straight back to his duties. After almost three entire seasons confined to a dirty little room--he was ready, and able to continue working.
Urist McChiefofmedicine. You have my gratitude, and everlasting admiration for your work.
-Your loving overseer.
P.s. If any other dwarf in our fortress worked as well as you, the corridors wouldn't be filled with miasma, the food-stockpile would be in barrels instead of laying on the ground, the yak skull that has been preventing me from building a staircase would have been moved months ago, we would have rooms for every dwarf, and you would have had everything you needed within days of requesting it. But alas, you are surrounded by morons who will hurt themselves regularly. At least you will be able to practice your skills often.
P.p.s. if you feel the need to do any experimentation on our dwarves, feel free, I will turn a blind eye to it.
p.p.p.s. Urist McBadatmining just fell again, he is being carried to the hospital.
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Topic: Note to Urist--In which you express your frustration to your dwarves (Read 1498707 times)