Patient care, circa 1885
Reading Chekhov stories this afternoon. In "Grief," a man brings his wife to the doctor, and he knows what the doctor will say:
Chekhov was a doctor. When a character is dying, the doctor says, "You've had your life, haven't you? You must be sixty if a day...isn't that enough for you?" When the patient says he'd like to live, the doctor asks, "Whatever for?"
Funny thing...when I read this, I started thinking about insurance companies...no, that's not fair.
(afterthought: yes, okay, you're right. In the last post, a patient was shouting at me. In this post, the doctor is shouting back. What can I say? Freud lives on!)
"Soon as we're there, he'll come running out of his room and start cursing. 'What's all this?' he'll shout. 'How did it happen? Why didn't you come earlier? Am I a dog, to be looking after you all day, damn you? Why didn't you come in the morning? Get out! I don't want to see you! Come tomorrow!'
Chekhov was a doctor. When a character is dying, the doctor says, "You've had your life, haven't you? You must be sixty if a day...isn't that enough for you?" When the patient says he'd like to live, the doctor asks, "Whatever for?"
Funny thing...when I read this, I started thinking about insurance companies...no, that's not fair.
(afterthought: yes, okay, you're right. In the last post, a patient was shouting at me. In this post, the doctor is shouting back. What can I say? Freud lives on!)
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