my best life 07.03.17.245A
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“I’m so sorry…” I told her with a smile. “I didn’t mean to<br />
yell at you… I hope you can understand.”<br />
“Honey,” she responded, “I have been a nurse for twentyseven<br />
years and have heard and seen a lot worse. You’re<br />
a good man, I could tell that the first time we met.”<br />
“Thank you.” I told her.<br />
She handed me the envelope with <strong>my</strong> discharge papers<br />
inside. “Good lucky, honey.” she said, “…you’ll do fine.” I<br />
began to walk towards the ward entrance and then<br />
stopped. I turned, and walked back to Loretta and asked,<br />
“What happened to John?”<br />
Her face suddenly turned serious. Pausing for a moment,<br />
she said “I don’t know Mr. Thompson.” Listening to<br />
heard words did not give me an answer, but looking into<br />
her eyes she was trying to tell me something.<br />
Her experience and professionalism would not allow her<br />
to speak but she sensed <strong>my</strong> genuine concern for him and<br />
did her <strong>best</strong> to relay a feeling with her tone and look of<br />
sadness in hopes that I would understand.<br />
I asked her for a pen, and she handed me one from her<br />
pocket. I reached into <strong>my</strong> back pocket and got the folded<br />
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