Saturday, July 9, 2016

My Bad Hand

The visiting nurse, Bagrat, watches me squeeze the fluid from the tubes leading from the long incision extending down my leg, and then asks me in what I-guess-is-a-Russian-but-turns-out-to-be-Armenian accent, "Have you been recording the amounts?"

"Sure." I pass him the sheet where I've been writing down the amount of stuff coming out of me.

He looks at the numbers I've written down in my wandering script, looks up innocently and says, "Oh, so you're also a doctor?"

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