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| Diary Serial |

On Call — Chapter 9: What We See 

I’m learning to look past the grime, the tattered clothes, the strangeness, and the fleas (although that last one isn’t easy)

 

As told to Shoshana Gross

“I’M sick!” Maria says petulantly. “My neck really hurts!” She pulls at the collar of her filthy coat and gives a theatrical groan for emphasis.

“Let me take a look,” I say calmly, but I already suspect that the problem has nothing to do with her neck.

You see, I know Maria well. She’s one of the regulars at the ER, the people who keep drifting in and out from the grimy streets of the city into the sterile halls of the hospital. When the weather grows chilly, Maria shows up in layers of clothing, dirty black coat over nondescript gray sweater over shapeless, greenish blouse over mustard-yellow T-shirt. Something’s always bothering her. One day it’s her neck, but at other times it’s her chest or her stomach. Last time she complained about her left foot, shod in a  cracked man’s rubber boot. The time before that it was her ear.

Maria, at least, is relatively calm. She doesn’t scream abuse at me or try to lash out at the nurses. Still, I try to examine her from a distance, if possible. The stench of unwashed clothing, skin, and hair permeates the room, and I can see the lice crawling through her short, graying hair. I’m grateful for the sheitel I wear, glad that at least there are no bedbugs or fleas on her clothing (that I can see). When those insects are crawling on my ER patients, I won’t go into any bedroom at home until I’ve had the longest, hottest shower I can stand.

Excerpted from Mishpacha Magazine. To view full version, SUBSCRIBE FOR FREE or LOG IN.

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