Something wonderful has happened.
I met a doctor.
And he asked, “What are you, Native American?”
I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to not be assumed to be Chinese. I have been waiting a long time for this day.
It’s a little weird though, how much my head gets petted. Apparently my hair is a unique animal here.
Okay, let’s say you’re a 68-year-old, 100-lbs, gaunt, emaciated old man coming into the hospital with complaints of stomach pain and loss of appetite. Then ultrasound reveals an extragastric mass, and labs show severe immunosuppression. It’s sad, I know.
But you know what’s not cool?
Throwing your blanket over your head and holding perfectly still until the pharmacy student approaches your bed, at which point you whip it off and stare straight at him.