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Show 82 The attending physician has noticed them as well and is turning to the resident. "Want to finish up?" he is asking and the resident steps to the sink to wash and glove for the remainder of the procedure. His face is red. "Just stitch it down and we're done," the attending adds as he strips off his gloves and launches them towards the waste basket. He misses and laughs. "No three-pointers at all today," he is saying as he goes out the door, leaving me alone with the resident and the intern. There is silence as the resident steps to my bedside and I want to tell him that it is OK, I am not angry. "So where are you from?" I ask as the intern resumes her position next to the resident. My voice is still not strong. We weave the threads of their memories of Ohio and Florida into stitches on my chest and as the bandage is being placed over them, the intern confides that her cerebral palsy made it difficult for her to get into medical school. "I can imagine," I am saying to her. I understand lowered expectations and erroneous assumptions concerning IQ and ability when physical disability is obvious. I would have hoped, however, that the medical establishment would have known better. |
