Friday, October 5, 2012

Friday's Dispatch

  • A recent patient worked in the music business for years. We talked a lot and you simply would not believe the stories- That. Will. Never. Get. Told. Really- I can't, not only because of the confidences entrusted to me that would be betrayed, but also privacy issues. There's no way I can change the names or dates to protect the innocent- or the guilty. You simply would not believe the names of people who called to check on my patient or the stories told (that I suspect are all true) about multiple names you'd recognize. There were also some very interesting stories told about the artists whose gold records were on the wall.
  • Grrr stupid ethics.
  • Speaking of which, if a patient and their family offers you something of token value it's usually understood that's OK (especially if all caregivers are treated the same). When they found out I loved music they wanted to give me a promotional boxed set that was given to them by the artist, who happens to be in the news right now. Then later she said, Here is an album Billy Corgan left on the bus. you can have it too- and don't argue with me. (it was an original copy of The Beatles White Album). After thanking her profusely, I discretely set them down beside where I was sitting and that's where I assume they are as I write this.
  • Grrr.
  • It was very good case- I was what they needed and they were the same for me.
  • This post is from a draft I started while doing hospice. Wow, that seems a long time ago.
  • I'm drinking a delicious French vanilla cappucino.
  • Quit it with the gay jokes.
  • Recently a woman who is a vegetarian  acted interested in me (she's a real vegetarian- she could not even tell you what meat tastes like not the kind that cuts herself after breaking down and eating a cheeseburger). Anyway, as we chatted I pictured us married. After sneaking away one night to Logan's for a steak and shrimp dinner I come home to her a total wreck. Where have you been? You're cheating on me aren't you? she blubbers. Yes, I'm sorry. It won't ever happen again! I assure her as I pull her close and hold her tight to reassure as only I can.
  • You and I both know that's a big fat lie so I bid her adieu and wished her well.

1 comment:

The Donald said...

...interesting stories told about the artists whose gold records were on the wall.

At the tone...just leave a message - maybe I'll call.