"When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold on to them. They are the life boats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely illusive. So the question becomes, or should have been all a long... What would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What life boat would you grab on to? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write?"

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Just Answer the Question

These can be the most aggravating types of assessments:

Me: "have you ever had an ulcer before?"

Patient: "well my grandmother did, on my maternal side. She died from that ulcer, then my uncles step-son lives near her in Alaska and had to take care of her cat because it had no where else to go and then that cat turned out to have diabetes and my brother had to give it insulin- you know what insulin is, right?- and then the cat ate this flower once so then my uncle couldn't buy flowers anymore."

"okay. But have you ever had an ulcer?"

Patient: "oh uh, no. My stomach is great. My friends aunt had stomach cancer though."


Very nice people indeed, but when I have 110 questions to ask when admitting someone and they answer every question with a story that always circles back to a friend/aunt/uncle or CAT, you kind of just want to stick yourself with 100 units of insulin and call it a day.

Am I already jaded??!




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