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Jett Superior laid this on you on || September 11, 2009 || 12:41 pm

here we are again

I can’t help it, I groan internally each time; I can actually feel my insides cringing and drawing up when a handful of patients, as they are signing in, say ‘NINE-EEELEVEN’ with great aplomb, like they are wishing me a happy birthday or just found out they’ve won a free pizza or something.

I meet the gazes of these blank-faced, passively rude. I want to be a better person most times, but sometimes I get sick of dumbly courting ridiculousness and the only form of polite I can manage is my silence accompanied with a lack of expression. I want to know, when did we start giving people an automatic pass on That’s Not Acceptable 101? Or, at the very least, its rather remedial and preparatory course, Shit Not To Say 098?

Then a little lady makes her way to my desk. She is drawn up, she’s been here five decades longer than me, her voice is difficult to follow sometimes as the result of the stroke she suffered two years ago. She might have remained aphasic, but she battled hard to get that voice back.

“Good….morning, youngun,” she rattles at me as she signs her name and fills in her birthday. Moving on to the date column on her patient sheet, she asks, “Today the tenth?”

“Eleventh,” I say and as she writes the date she shakes her head and the halting shakiness with which she typically speaks falls away with the next thing she says, couched in a near-whisper:

“What a terrible day.”

She looks up, her eyes brimming over, and I smile gently at her before turning away, getting up, hiding alongside the wall of files because my eyes are betraying me, too.

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2 worked it out »

  1. churchpunkmom 9.11.2009

    well said.

  2. Jason 9.11.2009



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