Tarnished gold

I was standing at the nurses' station today, looking for a patient's chart to find out which room was his. It was another resident's patient, and he had the day off. I was covering for him, just as he'll cover for me on my day off. An old woman approached me, paper in hand. "Here's the menu," she said, thrusting it at me, the sheet marked all over with meal choices.

I looked back at her. "Okay," I started hesitantly. She just looked at me. "I think they come around to the rooms and pick them up."

"Well, I brought it here yesterday, and they took it," she said.

"Okay," I said again. "I'm not sure where it goes," I added with a little shrug.

"Well, just give it to one of the nurses," she blustered at me.

I took the paper with an attempted smile, and gave it to the unit coordinator. She smiled, a genuine one this time, and took the menu, setting it on the counter.

Then I found the chart I was looking for, and turned towards that room. In the back, just visible behind a curtain, I saw the same old woman. I tucked my pen into my pocket and walked into the room.

A nurse was helping the patient take a few steps to stretch his legs. Both she and the patient gave me smiles. The old woman looked at me and snapped, "What do you want?"

"I'm one of the resident physicians," I said. "I'm covering for Dr. L who has the day off."

She sat there, shocked.

"I thought you were an aide," she finally said, after I'd inquired after the patient's health.

I just shrugged.

And from then on, she treated me with respect.

I find this tremendously sad.