24
Anterograde Jared Williams
“Mrs. Henson’s in room five—why don’t you go ahead and see her?
Sweet old lady, she’ll be a great practice interview. The only new thing I see is a little vitamin B12 deficiency.”
In her room, I recite the incantation: “Hi-I’m-a-second-year-med-
student-at-UNC-mind-if-I-ask-some-questions-before-the-doctor-comes-in?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
As the room comes into focus, I see an elderly woman with what looks
to be her daughter. They’re both smiling at me. There’s a calendar on the wall behind them featuring a B-21 stealth bomber. It prominently features the logo of the local VA hospital, and the caption underneath the photo reads, “The greatest casualty is being forgotten.”
“How are you all doing today?” I venture.
“Pretty good, not too much has changed,” the younger woman replies.
“I’m Barb—I’m not actually the patient today; that would be my mom, Barb Senior. But I’ll help out where I can.”
I turn and address her mother, “Okay, great, tell me about your health
conditions.”
“Well, I have the COPD but that’s been pretty good recently. I had to
go to the hospital for it a couple years ago, but now I got my face tubes for my oxygen tank at home and an inhaler for when I go out, so I’m pretty much set up.”
“Oh, you should see her with those little tubes on her face,” Barb says.
“She looks like a crazy person!”
They both laugh, and after a second, so do I.
“You’re awful young to be a doctor, aren’t you?” asks Barb Sr., eyes
narrowed in joking mistrust.
“Not too young to figure you out!” I return, now engaged in light
flirtation.
“Well then you better just ask me some more questions.”
My mind is now completely blank, so I just ask, “Do you have any other
kids?”
