In the last few threads I’ve had stimulating discussions with so many people about our love for pets, addictions, the ways we grieve, code blue experiences, toxic learning environments, aspirin overdose, and end of life decision-making.
It’s time to take it to the next level...
Sometimes, just to mess with my colleagues, I’ll speak song lyrics in a regular conversation and see how long it takes them to figure it out.
Them: So, did you see the consult?
Me: Yeah, he’s just a city boy.
Them: Like downtown?
Me: No, born and raised in South Detroit.
Them: Sooo... how did they end up in San Antonio?
Me: I guess he just took the midnight train. Going anywhere. *shrugs*
Them: *eyes narrow* Wait... isn’t this a-
Me: Look, just... don’t stop believing.
Them: 🎶Hold on to that fee-ling🎶
Me: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSS!!!
I think this was the perfect followup to the WSJ tweet. Just in case you were fooled into thinking I’m a legit writer or something...
Now, back to the stories.
I’m working on one about life, death, pancreatitis, and snow falling in “the City of Champions.”
Thank you again 🙏🏻
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It makes me wonder. How many times can you fold a person’s life over onto itself, to cram it into a place like this?
He’s lived a long life, a full life, and now he’s here. Filed away and forgotten.
He blinks as I enter.
He can’t see me. 1/
He has a degenerative eye disease. Bernie couldn’t help him, and neither could I.
“It’s okay, I prefer the darkness to whatever there is left to see.”
That was years ago.
“Welcome, Hand-Holder,” his voice is whispery, weak, “it’s been too long.”
“Hello Max,” I smile. 2/
“How did you know it was me?”
Max smiles at my question. “I heard that giant bag of nuts and bolts you call a MedTech out there. Plus usually your smell, although today it’s … different.”
I quirk a brow.
He says no more, instead holding out his hand, palm up. 3/