me that I have a better place where I could be. It’s a distraction that might take my concentration away from my job and my patients.”
He pointed over my shoulder at a ceiling-to-wall bookshelf filled with medical periodicals.
“I have to read all of those journals,” he stated. “They come every month, over a dozen scientific periodicals. It consumes me while I’m here. I don’t want to miss reading an article that might just save someone’s life because I was distracted by my wife’s beautiful smile or my children’s happy faces. I can’t take that chance.”
I understood now. I understood that he was one of the few people I’ve met that allows for no wasted time. There was no downtime for Dr. Kramer, whether it was at work or at home.
Before I could say more, he continued with the conversation.
“We bought some land out west of here,” he said. “My wife and I both love the country. I was raised on a small farm in West Virginia and decided to head south to leave the country behind. Truth be told, I hated the snow.
But after college in Gainesville, I began to realize that I still loved the country-life. My last residency in Cleveland cinched it for me. The snow and cold were brutal, and working in a larger city just didn’t sit well with me.”
“Well, you sure didn’t pick a quiet spot here in Orlando,” I countered.
“No,” he smirked back. “I didn’t figure on all the growth. When I got here in 1985, the city was still manageable. More importantly, my lovely wife is from the area; and with kids and a desire to avoid the snow, we agreed on Orlando. But, only if we could get out into the country and have a tract of land.”
“So here you are,” I chided him.
“Yes,” he happily sighed. “Here I am.”
“How far away is your house?”
“Not far from Monteverde,” he replied. “About 20 miles away.”
There was a knock on the door as our friendly conversation was interrupted. Peg stuck her head in and informed us that several of the patients and staff wanted to have a meeting.
We followed her out to the waiting room where all had assembled. One of the patients began the conversation.
“Dr. Kramer,” he started. “First I want to thank you for giving us shelter these past few days. But my wife and I feel that we need to start back home now that the weather has cooled off a bit.”
The man, in his late 60s, received several nods from like-minded people, including several of the staff.
“Well, certainly.” He replied. “But how far do you have to travel?”
Several patients began to speak at once. When it was all said and done, six of the eleven patients and the remaining staff members except for Peg and Janice had decided to return home.
“We need some food and water to make the trip,” the patient continued. “We were wondering if you could help us with that.”
Dr. Kramer had them all write down where they had to travel and they determined how much food they would need. We collected several pillowcases from laundry and created sacks that they could use to transport their food and personal items.
By noon, all that wanted to leave had left, most living within ten miles of the facility. The drop in temperature would help them get home. More importantly, the rapid loss of civility meant that the longer they waited, the more dangerous it would become.
After they departed, we took inventory of our remaining supplies. We needed more. That meant another trip to Publix. But with the sounds coming from down the street, it looked like Publix’s official advertising motto, “ Where Shopping is a Pleasure, ” might not bear out.
Dr. Kramer stood on the front stoop of the building, looking down toward the grocery store, growing more concerned as groups of people were walking and trotting down the road towards what was sounding more and more like a riot in the making.
“We need to go now,” Dr. Kramer said. “And I need to go with you.”
Janice, Dr. Kramer and I
He pointed over my shoulder at a ceiling-to-wall bookshelf filled with medical periodicals.
“I have to read all of those journals,” he stated. “They come every month, over a dozen scientific periodicals. It consumes me while I’m here. I don’t want to miss reading an article that might just save someone’s life because I was distracted by my wife’s beautiful smile or my children’s happy faces. I can’t take that chance.”
I understood now. I understood that he was one of the few people I’ve met that allows for no wasted time. There was no downtime for Dr. Kramer, whether it was at work or at home.
Before I could say more, he continued with the conversation.
“We bought some land out west of here,” he said. “My wife and I both love the country. I was raised on a small farm in West Virginia and decided to head south to leave the country behind. Truth be told, I hated the snow.
But after college in Gainesville, I began to realize that I still loved the country-life. My last residency in Cleveland cinched it for me. The snow and cold were brutal, and working in a larger city just didn’t sit well with me.”
“Well, you sure didn’t pick a quiet spot here in Orlando,” I countered.
“No,” he smirked back. “I didn’t figure on all the growth. When I got here in 1985, the city was still manageable. More importantly, my lovely wife is from the area; and with kids and a desire to avoid the snow, we agreed on Orlando. But, only if we could get out into the country and have a tract of land.”
“So here you are,” I chided him.
“Yes,” he happily sighed. “Here I am.”
“How far away is your house?”
“Not far from Monteverde,” he replied. “About 20 miles away.”
There was a knock on the door as our friendly conversation was interrupted. Peg stuck her head in and informed us that several of the patients and staff wanted to have a meeting.
We followed her out to the waiting room where all had assembled. One of the patients began the conversation.
“Dr. Kramer,” he started. “First I want to thank you for giving us shelter these past few days. But my wife and I feel that we need to start back home now that the weather has cooled off a bit.”
The man, in his late 60s, received several nods from like-minded people, including several of the staff.
“Well, certainly.” He replied. “But how far do you have to travel?”
Several patients began to speak at once. When it was all said and done, six of the eleven patients and the remaining staff members except for Peg and Janice had decided to return home.
“We need some food and water to make the trip,” the patient continued. “We were wondering if you could help us with that.”
Dr. Kramer had them all write down where they had to travel and they determined how much food they would need. We collected several pillowcases from laundry and created sacks that they could use to transport their food and personal items.
By noon, all that wanted to leave had left, most living within ten miles of the facility. The drop in temperature would help them get home. More importantly, the rapid loss of civility meant that the longer they waited, the more dangerous it would become.
After they departed, we took inventory of our remaining supplies. We needed more. That meant another trip to Publix. But with the sounds coming from down the street, it looked like Publix’s official advertising motto, “ Where Shopping is a Pleasure, ” might not bear out.
Dr. Kramer stood on the front stoop of the building, looking down toward the grocery store, growing more concerned as groups of people were walking and trotting down the road towards what was sounding more and more like a riot in the making.
“We need to go now,” Dr. Kramer said. “And I need to go with you.”
Janice, Dr. Kramer and I
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