He was rude and ugly and had been since the day I met him for the first time… three days prior. I listened to his symptoms and looked at his jaundiced face and I knew.
The whole visit he was antagonistic, questioning my every move, downright insulting me at times, telling me that I did not know what I was doing. I wanted to yell at him to shut up and be nice, to just let me help him, but I knew that he knew that I knew he was dying.
Bullying me made him feel as if he still had power.
“I have your results, sir. They confirm what I suspected.”
“You are a stupid bitch.”
I am so very afraid.
“I know this is not something you want to hear and for that I am sorry. Let me set you up with an oncologist and they will take it from here…”