OCR Text |
Show 147 Same Old How can it be that I am here yet again? I am looking around the walls at the same wallpaper, its every hanging flaw memorized. I am seeing the same view of the sky from the same window. It is the same TV, it will be the same meals, the same routine of early morning visits by small herds of interns. We will have the same long fight about the disease progression and about the protocol they do not think exists. That same fight will result in the same invasive solution of their puncturing my dura with yet another spinal injection with the medication in my pump. It will be accomplished by a different intern but the pain will be the same. They will finally replace the catheter after many weeks with the same kind of catheter that is now breaking with great predictability and I will go home only to return in another two or maybe even three months to yet more same as usual. My door is opening and another white coat enters. I do not even bother to look up. "My name is Dr. Emerson," he is saying with a smile, holding his hand out to shake. Mine is fisted and contracted against my chest and I cannot attempt the courtesy. I am looking at his name, embroidered on his pocket and wonder why an attending physician other than Dr. Jessop has come into my room. |