After what felt like a relatively good day in OBGYN clinic — no new cancer diagnoses, no particularly life-threatening pathologies — I followed my attending to the women’s hospital entrance, the elevators, and to the eleventh floor. The door stood slightly ajar as though the patient expected us to round this late in the day. We peeked inside.
She was bundled neatly under two or three off-white linens that did a rather good job of concealing the tangle of wires and lines that hung from her arms. Her husband sat at her bedside. He bore a striking resemblance to an actor whose name was on the tip of my tongue.