notes from an urban hibernation

Paris : Simon Cutts & Erica Van Horn

The Doctor is Upstairs


At least once a day, I am asked where the doctor is.  Each time I say that the doctor is upstairs on the third floor.  I have never seen the doctor or if I have seen him I did not know that he is the doctor.  When I am asked about him I answer as if he is familiar to me.  Only his location is familiar to me.  When I am going out of the building or when I am returning there is often someone limping up the stairs.  The rails of the banister are used to help people to pull themselves slowly up the stairs.  Sometimes a person is bent over in some kind of pain or discomfort.  Some people are accompanied by someone who is helping them to get up or back down the stairs.  I wonder why the people in such pain are not using the little elevator.  Often the person heading to the doctor is sneezing or coughing. Less often there is moaning or sighing. Only once have I heard weeping. We can hear extreme coughing from inside the apartment.  There is a new sign down by the front door this week announcing that there is a bronchitis epidemic and directing people to go up to the doctor for immediate assistance.   The coughing patients are most likely part of this epidemic. Now that I know there is an epidemic, I am happier not to find myself in the elevator with one of the coughing people.  EVH


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This entry was posted on February 23, 2014 by .
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