Him: “Other than that? I feel lonely.”
Wait. Huh?
Me: “Lonely?”
Him: “Yeah. Take a act of congress for somebody to get in here. Can’t have no visitors. And since I ain’t intensive care sick, nobody need to come in as much, you know?”
Hmm.
I hadn’t thought of that.
Him: “Then when they DO come in and they all business. Stick your finger. Flush your IV. Take your temperature. Then they get the F up out of there.”
Me: *staring at him* “Dang.”
Him: “I be trying to make small talk. Like wait! Don't go!”
He laughed when he said that.
Him: “Like. . . you ever had a neighbor that talk your head off? Then you grow up and realize they was just lonely?”
Me: *thinking* “Actually? Yeah.”
Him: “Well, that’s me. I be trying to ask or say anything. Like, ‘Heeeey, I like that mask. Where you get it?’”
*laughter*
Me: "That's funny."
Him: "Yeah. Kind of."
Though we both knew it wasn't.
I moved on to examining him. Then I went over the management pieces and asked if he had questions. He shook his head no. I tried not to glance up at the clock but habit overtook me.
I needed to go.
I headed toward the door, thinking through all of the proper steps of “doffing” my PPE.
Him: “Hey Dr. Manning? I almost forgot.”
Me: *swinging around* “Sir?”
Him: “I like that blue mask. Where you get that?”
*laughter*
It was funny. But again, it really wasn’t. You know?
I needed to go. I did. But before leaving, I leaned on the door and just shot the breeze with him for a few moments.
Me: “Did you used to watch that show Top Model?”
Him: “Wait—what? With that lady Tyra Banks?”
Me: “Yeah. ‘Member how she used to tell them girls to ‘SMIZE?’”
Him: *squinting* "Told them to do what?"
Me: “SMIZE!”
Him: "Say what?"
*laughter*
Me: "Smile with your eyes! Remember? Smiiize."
Him: *shaking head* "I can't believe I'm telling you this but. . .I low key do remember that."
Me: "Haaaa! I knew it!"
*laughter*
Me: "I try to do that sometimes. Under the masks and stuff. You know?"
Him: "You look like you squinting, Miss Manning."
Me: "I'm SMIZING, man. You can't tell?"
*laughter*
Him: "Uuuhh. . your SMIZE need some work. But I do like that idea."
Me: *nods* "Me, too."
*silence*
Him: “Tell your folks to make sure whenever they come in with all that armor on? That they do that.”
Me: *listening* "Ok."
I prepared to leave.
Him: “Yeah. Tell 'em. Even if they can’t stick around or chop it up? Damn! At least SMIIIIZE at a brother.”
*laughter*
I left after that.
You know? This patient reminded me that a "PUI" is more than just a “person under investigation.” They’re also a person under isolation from human interaction.
Necessary, yes. But hard, too. You know?
Yeah.
So after you properly “don” your personal protective equipment—and before you expertly “doff” it in the red bag? Make a little bit of small talk if you can. And if you’re too busy to do that or your patient is too sick?
At least SMIIIZE at a brother, ok?
#iseeyou