The doctor, a specialist, is so esteemed, erudite, and learned, therefore busy, that a prospective patient needs a physician's referral as a first step. Then the request for appointment is reviewed by a panel of nurses for consideration, and possible acceptance. Yes, exactly, a "panel of nurses."
The consult, finally granted, leads to his saying that, contrary to what you may think, the condition is not rare. The "condition" being diagnosed as a part of a vast spectrum. His mother has it, he states, has had it for a time. I ask how she is doing. "I don't like to talk about it," he says, "but I will if you want me to."
"Sorry," is all I say, but he goes on to talk about it anyway, some details about both his parents. He volunteers that if he himself were to seek assisted living, he would consider going to the Midwest, where the costs are much lower. He mentions Milwaukee, a beautiful city.
The next day we are in an attorney's office. She is preparing for her son's wedding in Syracuse. She will wear navy blue with silver accessories, though her favorite color is lavender, which would clash with the bridesmaid's dresses.
The last day of the week finds me in an accountant's office. I need a return appointment, but it will be delayed because his wife is to undergo eye surgery at Ellis Hospital.
This comprises my entire social interaction for the week, nay, the month, oh, OK, the entire year, to date.
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