Book cover grows mould: Runner up of the Penelope Gray-Allan Memorial CJEM Writing Award

摘要

The hallways echoed a cold and icy afternoon. Bedsparked in parallel held patients with bent wrists andtwisted hips. All were waiting to be seen in an urbanemergency department (ED) that was brimming withpatients. Yet despite their acuity, the triage note on myfirst chart read: ‘‘41yo Native, homeless, HIV+,cocaine and injection-drug user, here with a situationalcrisis.’’ Quickly jaded by this descriptor, I shuffled tohis bed with a groan. A mould of the imminentinteraction was beginning to set in my mind. Iwondered if my colleagues ever shared this reactionen route to a similar encounter. Just inside the closedcurtain, a tattered meal coupon rested on the shinylinoleum. Trivial to most, this frail little ticket wouldserve both a hot lunch to my patient and potentreminder to me. One year prior, while working in aninner-city co-op, I had met a man much like the patientI was about to see. His name was Harry.