Stories in Training

His Hearing Is Impeccable Ben Goldenberg His hearing is impeccable, like it’s trying to compensate for his failing heart. He can tell everything about a car – make, model, year – by its sound alone. Engine noise speeds past our room. “What’s he driving?” I ask. “Getaway car,” he laughs softly. Then we sit quietly, hoping the guy outran whatever he was escaping. Primary Care Andrew Srisuwananukorn It was great. We joked, we laughed. Familiar to this area, he gave me great tips. Being my first patient, he truly taught me what it meant to be a healer. I scheduled him for 6 months. As he walked out the door, he asked me for Viagra, and I never saw him again. Bummer. Post-SANE John Steven Cummins “I’m not crazy, but I’ve never worn fingernail polish in my LIFE.” Crying, spat out. “And those thigh-high chunky-heel boots too. Never.” We just had wipes, but they were real acetone. She scrubbed, methodically. “They dropped all the scrapings, you know. They’ll never find the f****r.” She almost wiped her eye, but I stopped her. Suicide Attempt Rebecca Kreston He is brought from his mother’s front lawn, alive. The bullet has coursed from chin to forehead and blood pulses brightly from his nose and mouth. I hunch over him, my palms crunch the remaining bones in his face, barely tamping the flow while his pressures slowly decline. His wife and teenage daughter walk in. Urgent Care Rebecca Kreston The complaint is hemorrhoids but there’s much more in the chart. Missed calls, full voicemail box, sent letters, and failed appointments. He doesn’t yet know about the necrotic mass in his pancreas, the lesions spotting his liver, or of the cancer matting the apron of his abdomen. So it’ll be me, then. I’ll tell him. NOVEMBER 4th2008 Anna Maria Gramelspacher It was the first time he had ever voted, a Black man voting for a Black president. He cast his ballot then caught his reflection in a store window: pride. But his eyes, yellow. In the ER the CT showed a pancreatic mass. When he looked up at me all I could see was pride. Going Home Rachael King He came in weak and frail. His skin hanging off his bones. He said he couldn’t do it anymore and we tried to help him. Fluids, cultures, blood, platelets. He improved overnight, now able to think clearly. “I’m done,” he said. There were no more treatments that could cure him. He wanted to be home

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