Usually, I cast a calm eye on all that awaits me; after all, it’s what I’m trained for. But some days are more difficult than others
Shortly before I turn into the hospital, I pass a pizza shop with its huge, unmistakable letters selling the enduring appeal of a generous slice of pizza to fix all kinds of wrongs. The store is always closed at that hour, so I have never been inside, but it’s become a kind of constant in my life because it’s my cue to start thinking about the day ahead.
As I pass the pizza shop, I start thinking about the day’s list of patients – the newly diagnosed and those months or years into treatment, some coping well, many facing difficulties, if not of the body then the mind. Some patients take just minutes, thankful for good news and reluctant to question it too closely. Others take an hour, forced to come to grips with worsening circumstances they didn’t expect or had hoped not to entertain.
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