It gave an impersonal, menacing gaze my way as I sat down next to the computer. A lamp sat lonely next to the nasty table, as if dragged into the ponzi scheme by his fifth grade kniving friend, always unable to stand up for himself and always a victim of his own passivity. The MA Latrice methodically and mechanically completed her duties, as a shell of existance. She fought to keep herself writing down all the vitals and to keep taking in oxygen. Her lungs didn't labor, but I could tell her soul did. Joyless monotony wondering if 5:30 on Friday would come. And if she would actually make it in the next week. And just dead to the fact she dragged herself through the last three years of her life and couldn't remember any of it.
It wasn't that mister doctor didn't know his stuff, but he just didn't go to school to help people. My only thoughts were of ingratiating manners of unthankfulness. Ok he made some mistakes, but I did have access to something the rest of the world didn't and need to brush some chips off my own shoulder.
Its funny how a similar experience gets a LOT of mileage in the way of empathy. Specifically, that look of terror the fifteen month old eyes of our clients at the front desk.
So, thankfulness and empathy, instead of begrudging anger. Sometimes just need new eyes. And helps you understand others' better.
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