The Hospice

The Hospice I needed minor surgery, a place was found at a hospital in another town; a spa town along the coast famous for its many statues and water fountains often visited by intellectually inclined tourists. My wife came with me, as we didn’t think the surgery would take long, she has a map on her mobile phone she is also fearless in asking people when we get lost, which we often do. After some gentle arguments, we found the place, a beautiful building on a side street, pristine white with no hint of decay, like black patches caused by damp and the usual degradation of old age. Inside, the atmosphere was friendly and soft music like a scarf, balmed any anxiety an unhurried nurse spoke in a whisper, held my arm as we walked up steps and along a corridor to the doctor’s office. The man in the white coat, looked at his screen, gone Is the day when the shirt had to come off and the medico Knocked on your back with his stethoscope and told To cough; instead, he said: will the afternoon suit you? I said no because I had to find a hotel for my wife and a long-stay parking lot; “a long-stay parking lot!” He gasped, looking surprised, I can schedule you in for the morning and with the music of your choice.