“Are you anxious?”
“A little bit.”
“What medications do you take?”
The neatly packed transparent plastic bag is a gift for the nurse.
My mother is having a procedure and I have taken time off. She is elderly, hard of hearing and a non-native English speaker – just one of these would qualify for an extra pair of hands and ears, but with all three, I am not taking any chances.
Being a doctor is a privilege in so many ways. My first realisation that I am on the patient side of the equation is when I drive past staff parking to find a spot. The two minutes I am used to become 20.
The admissions clerk is faintly unimpressed that my mother omitted to bring one of her many types of health-related cards. I feel for both clerk and patient and problem-solve by messaging my dad. We doctors wi