Dr. Curling, certainly not one for mushy-gushy compliments, harrumphed
Jonas, my chronically-depressed and suicidal med school patient, with muscular dystrophy and a gift for the game of chess, made a weak attempt at ending it all by throwing himself in front of a car in the hospital parking lot. Dr. Curling, my sharp-tongued supervisor, was surprisingly encouraging. Part II
Jonas’s elbows were covered in bandages but he was going to be fine.
As my sage-like supervisor — the ageless Dr. Curling — predicted, he’d be waiting for me in the hospital’s sunroom to play another game of chess.
This time — after Jonas’s most recent suicide attempt jumping in front of a car while on a walk through the hospital’s grounds — Larry the orderly, the hospital’s suicide watchdog, was back at his side to prevent any more such attempts, but neither Larry nor Jonas was pleased with this development. And Jonas, in the terrible mood that he was, wasn’t even excited to beat me in 14 moves utilizing a chess formation called the French Defense.
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