So what is it, then?
Montreal, QC, September 2009
The scene: We were on our way out of the hospital after visiting Debbie's mom. It had been two days since my father's funeral - seven months later, it still hurts to write those words - and between his loss and her mom's illness, we were feeling a little more shellshocked than usual.
There's a long hallway on the ground floor that leads from the dingy-looking elevators to the exit. It's the same concrete block-walled, pipe-lined-ceiling hallway I traversed as a kid when I ended my own tours of duty here, so I always walk it just a little more slowly, to drink in the echoes a place that's imprinted itself in so many ways on me and my family.
We're here so often that I try to notice what's changed from one visit to the next. On this particular walk-through, I notice one of the laser printers in an adjacent clinic has been working overtime. The windows are now festooned with bureaucratically-structured messages, all seemingly designed to remind patients when they should show up, what they should bring, and what they can and cannot do while they're waiting.
And this sign, which stopped all of us dead in our tracks and made us wonder just what they were thinking. Sometimes, laptops and laser printers really should be taken away from those who haven't a clue.
Your turn: So what is this sign all about, anyway?
