Grand rounds every Monday morning at the mission hospital, where I interned was always a holy time where we solemnly followed the Chief – a formidable Scots lady
who examined every patient’s chart minutely and berated us for the smallest errors.
One Monday, she noticed several patients’ charts had been marked ‘S.O.B.’ by the new Canadian doctor who, like many before him had come from various countries to study exotic tropical diseases. In a shocked voice the Chief asked what ‘S.O.B.’ meant and the Canadian innocently said, “Why doctor? It means short of breath.”
my bean bag also
breathes in… out