The sharp beep of my pager becomes part of my dream, and pushes me into the conscious reality of the fluorescent glow. I stumble out of the call room, and down the long sterile hallway.
The smell of vomit and homelessness brings me into the buzz of the Emergency Department. I was sent here to knock on the door of room number P4.
This consult is not about placement, nor is it about medication. I stand in P4 with you at a moment of crisis.
I came here only to lay eyes on you. What I see is a future in courtrooms with judges that sign orders. Blurred with tears and heavy with loneliness, the eyes I see, your eyes, will dry and the heart I hear will continue to beat in this classroom called a lifetime.
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