I was visiting with one of my patients in a room that held two patients. Another doctor was on the other side of the curtain making morning rounds on one of his patients, too.
Mmm hmmm.
2/ An exchange between a Grady elder and that other doctor was within earshot—and loud enough—for me to hear.
Him: "Did you have a good night?"
Her: "Mmmm hmmm."
Him: "How was breakfast? Were you able to keep it down?"
Her: “Mmmm hmmm.”
3/ Him: "And tell me . . . did you--"
Her: "Scuse me, doctor. But can you just go on and examine me and stop asking so many questions?"
Him: *chuckling* "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were asleep."
4/ Her: "No. Your breath just stank really, really bad. So I want you not to be talking so much. Or like not real close by me like that."
Lawd.
My patient widened her eyes and pressed her lips together to stifle a laugh.
Whew.
5/ Him: "I'm sorry. I guess the coffee I had this morning must have--"
Her: "Naawww. That ain't no coffee smell. That’s something that seem like you need a dentist or something. Like it's down in your gums or something. I don't know."
Down in his . . . gums?
💀💀💀
6/ *silence*
Her: "You nice, doctor. But just don't talk a whole bunch if you ain't got to, hear?"
Hand over heart. No exaggeration.
They almost had to call the rapid response team for me and my patient on the other side of that curtain.
Lawd.
7/ After that, he left. And fortunately I never got to see the face of that halitotic doctor.
Wait. Is “halitotic” even a word?
Well. Even if it’s not, you get the picture.
8/ When the coast was finally clear, my patient and I came unglued.
We laughed and laughed and laughed.
Until we cried.
Hard.
Whew. I love this job. Oh, and don’t forget to see your dentist, okay?
Me: "How are you feeling?"
You: "Terrible."
Me: "Terrible?"
You: "Terrible."
Me: "The medicines aren't taking the edge off?"
You: "It helped a little bit, but now I feel sick to my stomach. My bowels are loose, too."
Hmmm.
2/ Your voice is quiet and defeated. This is different. . . and it scares me.
Me: "We put you back on what you were getting at home and--"
You: "I know that. Soon as you said that yesterday I started. But now all I feel is sick and queasy in the stomach."
*silence*
3/ Me: "I'm sorry. . . what do you mean by 'as soon as I said that?'”
You: "What?"
Me: "The medicines. You said you started as soon as I said something? That part confused me. Just wanted to get clear."
You reach under the bed and pull out a plastic Kroger bag full of pills.
My mother does this thing when having her photo taken. She erupts into laughter and does so repeatedly with each snap. It's her way of getting to a natural smile--even if it's through an unnatural chuckle.
It's so awkward. And adorable.
And her.
2/ And so. This little thing that my mom does floated into my mind as I spoke to you on this day. A fleeting thought but one I paused to savor.
Yeah.
Your mother passed away a few months ago. And yes, she'd been ill. But still. She was your mom.
Your mom.
3/ You'd asked me about the holidays. What my family planned to do and such. And I told you. Then I boomeranged the query straight back at you.
Then I remembered.
Me: "Oh wait. This is the first Christmas?"
Your shoulders curled inward and you gave a tiny nod.
1/ You: "I remember when I told my mama. She started hollering and fell on the floor crying for Jesus."
Me: *raising eyebrows*
You: "I was like, 'Mama! Calm your ass down!'"
*laughter*
You: "But I get it. She was going on stuff she heard about HIV."
Me: *listening*
2/ You: "You woulda thought I was about to die right then and there the way she was carrying on."
Me: "Dang."
You: "She started talking in this somber ass voice like a old spiritual. Talking 'bout 'I'm heeeere for you, baby. Until the end.' I was like, 'The END?'"
*laughter*
3/ Me: "Had your mama seen somebody die from complications of AIDS?"
You: "No. She just got a porch to stand on." *shaking head* "I remember my neighbor sayin, 'That boy a yours gon' get the AIDS!' And my mama saying, 'Don't speak that curse over his life!'"
1/ The tone you took when communicating with me masked all that you were saying. The words tumbled out.
Short.
Cursory.
Stripped of the gentle pleasantries and deference that we all learned at some point.
Although clearly you’d learned other rules, too.
2/ You were saying a lot of things but my mind wandered. I imagined myself a tall man with a tawny combover with greying temples. With wizened blue eyes and crow’s feet bursting outward on porcelain skin.
Would you be talking to me this way if I were him?
Hmmm.
3/ Like, if he was me on paper but phenotypically him, you know?
A full professor who’d published things and built things and earned a reputation for his work. Who’d been a leader and who’d earned respect and who’d been doing this for a long time.
1/ Today I held a hand that needed to be held. You were so afraid. So, so afraid.
You: "I don't want to die from this."
Me: "I don't want you to, either."
You: "No, I mean this shot."
I opened my mouth and then closed it. Before I could speak, you had the phone to your ear.
2/ You called someone in your family. And then someone else. One said one thing. Another said something else.
You: "I just don't know."
Me: *listening*
You: "I don't know what to do."
Me: "Tell me what you are afraid of."
You: "Dying."
Dying.
3/ Me: "I think we're both scared of the same thing. I don't want you to die either. Or get disabled, you know?"
You took out your phone and called someone else. That person said you should get it. I wanted to say, "Hello! I'm a doctor! Ask me! I can answer questions!"
2/ Loooove that our kids got into appreciating the works of Dr. Pecou through recreating their OWN #DOPE interpretations!
Servant leadership outside of the hospital fuels our work inside. Grateful for @JackandJillInc & @dstinc1913 for continuing to be my service homes!
More👉🏽
3/ We teach our kids to go hard at fundraising so that we can meaningfully support nonprofits that serve our most vulnerable community members—many of whom come to Grady. So cool for them to learn and grow at the same time!