Professional behavior extraordinaire

Today I had to go to the hospital, put on my little white coat, get all spiffed and starched up. So I was in a group of five classmates and we were given the task of interviewing a real patient. Easy peasy - we've done this more than a few times now and most of us are getting comfortable with the process. So we stride in, cocky future doctors all and before us sat this lanky man in a limp hospital gown. He had an overgrown beard peppered with gray. He looked at us with no expression but we each introduced ourselves and he shook our hands cordially.

As we gathered around him, he alone sat in a chair and we stood in front of him, in a circle in this weird ritualistic way. I cleared my throat and ventured first (the brave little pipsqueak that I am) and asked, "So what brought you into the hospital?"

He looked at me and said, "The Airforce."

"Oh?" I was befuddled.

One of my kind classmates chimed in, "Oh okay, so the airforce brought you in?"

The man mumbled, "MmmmHmm. The Airforce."

Another pipsqueak piped, "How long have you been in the hospital?"

"1974."

"Oh....Why are you here again?"

"1972."

"So you've been here since 1972. What are you here for?"

"The airforce." He looked at us amiably, calmly, patiently.

It was at this moment, or perhaps a second after, when the dawning realization came to each and every one of us, this man is COMPLETELY incoherent and possibly demented. A giggle started making its way from the depths of my belly. To my increasing horror, I knew it would erupt from my mouth if I didn't do something soon. With every ounce of self control I could muster, I froze the muscles of my face into a botox mask. I almost lost it again when I looked at him. I literally began turning red from the effort of trying not to laugh. We just stood there in silence then, not knowing what to say. My face felt freakishly hot.

I looked down at my shoes, I dug my nails into my hands, I twisted and retwisted my fingers. Then I stole a look at my classmates and I saw the early twitchings of a smile on everyone of them, all of them trying so damn hard not to giggle like little girls. It is a feeling like you're being tickled and you can't laugh, it was excruciating ladies and gentleman, I thought I would have an apoplexy from the effort of straining myself. Two agonizing minutes later, an internist rushes in all smiles and apologies and tells the guy thanks for his time and lets us scoot out of there. We all scurried out, eager to get out, sheepish about the whole business.

It turns out the guy has had some sort of blunt trauma accident and the frontal lobe of his brain had been removed. He basically had a lobotomy. Still bad bad emily! I kept yelling at myself that I should have had more empathy and professionalism. I became a blob that was about to burst at the seams and no white coat, no matter how well sewn, could have held me together if I had done that. Sigh, much to learn this one still.