- Coco Chanel1
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- Joined: 31 Mar 2018, 21:52
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Original poem posted on 5-15-2018
A preacher with his shoes on the wrong feet. He reaches down to feel his knees and says, “I have my legs on the wrong legs!” An elderly lady says yes, she depends on drugs. “My doctor gives me a lot of drugs. I depend on them.” A priest so furious when he saw SOB on his chart.
Patience, stories! The workplace resonates with them. We share ours behind closed break room doors laced with secrecy, confidentiality. During pillow talk, names removed, times and cities changed, just so the stories live.
Patience, stories! Even without identifying details, the semblance of sheer humanness, joy, humor, confusion or grief can be celebrated. Erase the identity; keep it secret just for the nugget of the story to live. Patients’ stories!