While roaming the hallways of the hospital recently, I came across one of my favorite patients. Mr. Patient is tall, somewhat stooped over, and a very pleasant man in his early 80s. On hospital visits, he is always accompanied by his wife of several decades and today was no exception. At the time I saw them, they were deeply engaged in the great intellectual exercise of locating a hospital department, an elderly couple standing befuddled in front of a gaggle of signs pointing every which way. And as always, they were deeply engrossed in a dialogue. There was a lot of head-shaking and a few words floated to my ears as I approached them “…no, no, that way is the Xray…”. As he turned around, incomprehension, followed a moment or two later by a big smile of recognition, made an appearance and his hand extended for a handshake.
As we shook hands however, I rapidly became deaf to their words. I could not hear much of anything they were saying, and only mechanically uttered some social niceties. It was the handshake! Or, the lack thereof.
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