The doctor, who wore his sadness with such loveliness, had come to check on me the night before. ˝I had a patient on another floor,˝ he said. ˝Let me see how you‘redoing.˝ And he swished the curtain around me as he always did. He didn‘t take my temperature with a thermometer but held his hand to my forehead, and then took my pulse with his fingers to my wrist. ˝Okay, then,˝ he said. ˝Sleep well.˝ He made a fist and kissed it, then held it in the air as he unswished the curtain and left the room. For many years, I loved this man. But I have already said that.

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