I've been retelling war stories recently. I think all medics have them; stories of patients who were funny, patients who were dumb as a bag of hammers, smart ass patients, drug seeking patients, Darwin Award candidates, big patients, little patients.....
It's the little patients that have been bothering me. I can deal with adults all day long and not be too phased by it, but kids...they get to me.
I have three stories to tell at some point. Right now, apart from the people who were at the scenes with me, there are two people who know what happened...and one of them won't talk to me about it because they can't handle it either and don't care to talk about it.
Most days I don't think about it and it doesn't bother me, but if I think about it too much the memory follows me around like a shadow that I can't escape, no matter where I stand.
This afternoon that shadow is particularly long and dark.
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