My college freshman son, annoyed over the visiting rules in his dorm, asked what it was like at my college, 30 years ago. "Well," I started, "there was the trash-can-in-the-door rule -- trash cans got pretty thin -- and then there was the three-feet-on-the-floor rule . . ." A fleeting moment of confusion changed to incredulity. "Never mind," he said.
I'm 26. In eight months, I'll be a doctor. When I walk into a patient's room, he tells me his problem and expects me to fix it. I try not to care too much because we're not supposed to. But last week, I walked into a room, and the patient was my dad. He told me his problem but didn't expect me to fix it. And I didn't know what to do.
Marcia H. Glass
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