"Sorry...Ouch! Sorry...Pardon me...Excuse me..." James Wilson mumbled as he pushed through the crowd. "Excuse me...Please, let me through..." as he brushed aside a young girl and her mother. The clinic was busy today, people everywhere. There was minimal staffing and an angry group of people trying to be assessed. Finally, he squeezed through the door to exam room 3. The room felt large and empty without the huddled masses outside. On the giường sat a little boy, no older than about eight.
"Doctor, my tim, trái tim hurts!" he wailed, and the sound tugged at Wilson's tim, trái tim also. With a smile he asked the boy his name age and where it hurt.
"Here!" His tiny finger pointed to the middle of his chest, "In my heart!" Wilson sighed, children were hard to talk to when it came to addressing symptoms. "Where's your Mummy?" He asked gently, placing an arm around the boy.
"She đã đưa ý kiến she was sad. Sad because of daddy."
"And what did daddy do to make her sad?" The little boy paused. He wasn't sure how what his father had done could make someone so sad.
"I'm not sure. Mummy đã đưa ý kiến he didn't say something. Something that was real," he stressed this last word, "important." Wilson picked up the boy and lifted him from the bed. Placing him down on the ground he spoke gently,
"Is that what makes your tim, trái tim hurt?" The little boy nodded. With a sigh Wilson lead him out of the room into the caring arms of a nurse. She would talk to him, maybe even refer him to a children's counselor, then find his parents to take him home.
Wilson sat himself on the exam bed. He thought of how a few simple words change everything. Maybe he wanted things to stay the way they were. Maybe things were better simple. Who knows what would happen if he told her? It was times like this he needed someone to confide in, but the only person he confided anything to in the hospital were Cuddy and House. He could tell neither of them his troubles in this circumstance. He sat on the giường motionless for what seemed like hours. The tick-tock of the clinic clock filled his ears, it was deafening in the silent room. Finally he stood up and proceeded out of the room.
"Dr Wilson! We have another patient to see you! Dr Wilson?" Nurses desperately tried to grab his attention, but his mind could not be shaken from the task at hand.
"Not, now, I have to go somewhere..." He brushed them aside with flick of his wrist and a wave of his hand and walked right out of the clinic.
Pausing for a moment he wondered if it was the right thing to do. But his tim, trái tim over rid his logic and he turned the handle of Cuddy's office...
"Doctor, my tim, trái tim hurts!" he wailed, and the sound tugged at Wilson's tim, trái tim also. With a smile he asked the boy his name age and where it hurt.
"Here!" His tiny finger pointed to the middle of his chest, "In my heart!" Wilson sighed, children were hard to talk to when it came to addressing symptoms. "Where's your Mummy?" He asked gently, placing an arm around the boy.
"She đã đưa ý kiến she was sad. Sad because of daddy."
"And what did daddy do to make her sad?" The little boy paused. He wasn't sure how what his father had done could make someone so sad.
"I'm not sure. Mummy đã đưa ý kiến he didn't say something. Something that was real," he stressed this last word, "important." Wilson picked up the boy and lifted him from the bed. Placing him down on the ground he spoke gently,
"Is that what makes your tim, trái tim hurt?" The little boy nodded. With a sigh Wilson lead him out of the room into the caring arms of a nurse. She would talk to him, maybe even refer him to a children's counselor, then find his parents to take him home.
Wilson sat himself on the exam bed. He thought of how a few simple words change everything. Maybe he wanted things to stay the way they were. Maybe things were better simple. Who knows what would happen if he told her? It was times like this he needed someone to confide in, but the only person he confided anything to in the hospital were Cuddy and House. He could tell neither of them his troubles in this circumstance. He sat on the giường motionless for what seemed like hours. The tick-tock of the clinic clock filled his ears, it was deafening in the silent room. Finally he stood up and proceeded out of the room.
"Dr Wilson! We have another patient to see you! Dr Wilson?" Nurses desperately tried to grab his attention, but his mind could not be shaken from the task at hand.
"Not, now, I have to go somewhere..." He brushed them aside with flick of his wrist and a wave of his hand and walked right out of the clinic.
Pausing for a moment he wondered if it was the right thing to do. But his tim, trái tim over rid his logic and he turned the handle of Cuddy's office...