Sue Wootton
From memory, for memory, and in memory.
I used to have a physiotherapy clinic in central Dunedin. One Friday evening I farewelled my final patient and began to tidy up before heading home. It had been a busy week and I was exhausted. Already mentally off-duty, I wandered into the waiting room to stack the magazines, and to my surprise and annoyance found two men sitting there. In an American drawl, one of them said, “My friend here needs an appointment.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but the clinic is closed.”
The man persisted. “This is very important,” he said. “He needs an appointment now.”
I glanced at the friend. He was certainly holding himself rigidly, as if in pain. But the very idea of treating one more patient that day was too much for me. “I’m sorry,” I repeated, “but I am closing now.”
The man amped up his appeal. It’s urgent; it’s necessary; it has to be done and you have to do it.