Love During a Pandemic
Dr. Andrew walked around his overcrowded emergency room filled with sick patients dying from the recent pandemic. He wore a protective suit with a face shield over his facemask. He reviewed the white board used by the nurses to track the patients. Several had been crossed off in red. There was no legend for the color code, but everyone understood red meant they had died. Dr. Andrew hit the wall with his gloved fist. The white board nearly fell down. Everyone within hearing distance stopped and looked at Dr. Andrew. Then with a nod of their heads, they understood his frustration and returned to their work, hoping to save someone.
“Pardon me,” I said.
Dr. Andrew turned toward me. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Monte Anderson,” I answered. “I’m writing this story. I just want to discuss a couple things with you?”
“You’re Monte Anderson, the author?” Dr. Andrew asked in disbelief. “I thought you were younger. I definitely thought you were taller.”
“No,” I replied with a chuckle. “It’s really me. In the flesh, you might say. Can we stop the action for a minute to discuss a few details?”
“What the hell? You want me to stop in the middle of a global pandemic when every second could mean life or death?”
“I understand your concerns, Doctor, but you must realize this is all fiction. It’s just a story that I’m writing. This is just a rough draft. I’m going over it now to find tune it.”
Dr. Andrew shook his head and threw up his arms. “What the hell. It’s your story. Go ahead. What do you want to discuss?”
I glanced at my notes. “Well, for one thing, and this is minor; I didn’t give you an accent. I think I should.”
Andrew shook his head again. “Why do I need an accent. I’m from America and your audience is also. I don’t need and accent.”
“I looked at my notes again to see what I had written. “Well, that’s true, but later—around page 12—it is revealed that you were born and raised in Texas. People from Texas have accents and talk a certain way.”
Dr. Andrew placed his hands on his hips. “What’s wrong with the way I talk?”
“First of all, you talk just like me and I’m not from Texas.”
“Do you think it matters?” Dr. Andrew asked.
“I do,” I answered.
“And how do Texians talk, pray tell?”
“They use words like ‘y’all’, ‘fixin’ and “corn-fed’. They might use expressions like ‘Bless your heart’, ‘might could’ or, ‘dad gum it.’”
Dr. Andrew shook his head in disbelief. “And you think a doctor from Texas who went to medical school at New York University and did his residence at Harvard Medical School would still have a strong Texas accent?”
“Good Point,” I said. “I may have to rewrite that part. Also, I think I may have to add some distinct features to your character.”
“I’m not sure. Something that says ‘Texan’. Maybe you could wear a cowboy hat.”
Dr. Andrew smiled. At least I think he smile under his face mask. He pointed to his head upon which he was wearing a cap which covered his hair.
“Or maybe cowboy boots?” I suggested.
Dr. Andrew pointed at the booties that covered his street shoes.
“Okay, okay. I have to think about that,” I said. “But maybe we can do something about your non-descript face.”
“What’s wrong with my face?”
“I’m thinking maybe you should have a mustache.”
Dr. Andrew laughed and pointed at his facemask. “No one can see it with this mask on.”
A voice behind me said, “No mustache.” I turned to see the beautiful Nurse Margaret walking up. “And who is this person in the ER without a facemask?”
[To be continued on my next blog. Stay tuned. If you don’t want to miss any of my blog posts, follow me.]