Day 19
Back on the floor today. I’m getting to know more of the residents; I can greet them by name without always consulting the signs on their doors. Among other things, I get to play chess with a gentleman who can’t speak much but who seems very sharp - certainly sharp enough to beat me soundly, although I like to think I put up a fight.
It’s tempting to let my guard down at these times, and get lost in the sense of normalcy before something snaps me back to this bizarre reality. A woman asks “Huh? What was that??” and I remember that my mouth is covered by a mask, my voice muffled by my face shield - a communication disaster! Walking down the hallway, a resident calls out, “excuse me, can you help me with this tray?” I’m about to go in when I notice the green sticker on the door - I just came from a red patient’s room. I have to go find someone from the Green team to meet this simple request, while the woman sighs impatiently.
One of the residents has a particular bit of wisdom to share with anyone who will listen. “Sometimes in your life, something will happen to you over here.” He draws a mark on the crossword puzzle in front of him. “And it’s horrible, and you cry, and you grieve. But later on, alllll the way over here” - drawing a line down to the bottom corner - “something else will happen, and then you realize why the first thing was important. And it makes sense in the end, but it takes a long time.”
He tells me this 3, 4 times each time we have a conversation. It must be especially important to him, or maybe he feels I especially need to hear it. Maybe both.
Day 20
It’s tempting to let my guard down at these times, and get lost in the sense of normalcy before something snaps me back to this bizarre reality. A woman asks “Huh? What was that??” and I remember that my mouth is covered by a mask, my voice muffled by my face shield - a communication disaster! Walking down the hallway, a resident calls out, “excuse me, can you help me with this tray?” I’m about to go in when I notice the green sticker on the door - I just came from a red patient’s room. I have to go find someone from the Green team to meet this simple request, while the woman sighs impatiently.
One of the residents has a particular bit of wisdom to share with anyone who will listen. “Sometimes in your life, something will happen to you over here.” He draws a mark on the crossword puzzle in front of him. “And it’s horrible, and you cry, and you grieve. But later on, alllll the way over here” - drawing a line down to the bottom corner - “something else will happen, and then you realize why the first thing was important. And it makes sense in the end, but it takes a long time.”
He tells me this 3, 4 times each time we have a conversation. It must be especially important to him, or maybe he feels I especially need to hear it. Maybe both.
Day 20
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