Last Updated on October 31, 2022 by Tom Kane
At my chemo session the other day, I was all ears at the commotion going on in the next room. Mine was a four-hour chemo drip session. I felt like a plastic container for a Johnson & Johnson product. But while this drip was being dripped, I was listening to another drip in the room next door. He, a man I couldn’t see with an odd deep-light voice was obviously on the phone arguing with someone. I could even vaguely hear the person on the phone answering the man’s increasingly irate tirade.
The conversation was getting heated when a nurse stepped into the room and told the man to tone it down. He did, for a few seconds.
A few minutes later the nurse insisted the man be quiet and that seemed to the trick. And withing a few seconds the nurse had administered his chemo and the man left… or rather, the woman left. Her voices was the gruff voice of one who thrives on a cocktail of cigarettes and booze. She was dressed in a silver skirt, white top, and a silver covid mask with white high-heel shoes. She looked like she had just arrived from a disco all night party.
Surprising how you can get a wrong impression when all you can hear is the person’s voice and not see them.
Copyright © Tom Kane 2022
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