The cafeteria is crowded with employees and "visiting" families - a euphemism for suffering, because most have that look of pain mixed with hope. The drone of hundreds of conversations is near-deafening. A young man with a hard hat walks up to the piano in the corner, sits down, and carefully places his hat on the floor. Those who notice exchange worried looks; he's wearing a tattered West Coast Choppers sweatshirt and a red bandana wrapped around his head. Gently, he raises his hands, closes his eyes in concentration, tilts his head slightly, then begins to play "As Time Goes By". There is no parody in his playing - he plays with love and emotion, never missing a note, carefully controlling the tempo, leading his keyed partner in a tender dance.
Got a late start today, so apparently Karma says I have to make up for it by being incredibly busy. I've been in the office for three hours, and I've spent at least one hour answering e-mail, one hour acting as counselor, and one hour on the phone. It's 2:00 and I'm finally getting my first cup of coffee for the day - what does that tell you. So far I've learned that most doctors are quacks - they all just guess at the problem, and sometimes they get lucky and guess right. I've learned that if you subscribe to Ifit.com, eventually you'll catch an ear-worm - I've listened to essentially the same music over and over for so many months now that I often catch myself humming it. I've learned that my sister is a nutcase and sends me way too much funny stuff. At least it's Friday.
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