Angels Unawares

Because he was new on the job, he still had not gotten around to meeting all his new patients yet, and he was ready to have that particularly tiresome chore behind him. He could think of few things that he liked quite so little as the initial process of having to get acquainted with a new patient; he much preferred the familiarity that could only come later. As for his fellow elevator passengers, they were only too glad to see him make such a hasty departure and wished that he had done so sooner.

He walked by the nurses’ station and picked up a stack of manila folders with his name on them, never breaking his stride. They were arranged in order of appointment, and Staples quickly scanned the top file. The patient in question was a man by the name of Gabe Lighten, diagnosed as a delusional schizophrenic. He had been admitted into Southbrook only recently, so the file on him was exasperatingly thin. Only the preliminary admissions work had been done on him thus far, meaning that Staples had precious little data with which to work. Apparently someone had decided to have a little fun with him by referring the newest patient with the newest psychiatrist. For his part, Staples did not find it the least bit funny.

So absorbed was he in his frustrated musings that he never noticed the building custodian directly in his path, who himself was equally absorbed in emptying a wastebasket, his back turned to Staples. The collision could have been much worse, but it was jarring enough that both men dropped everything they had in their hands. The floor, which the custodian had just swept to immaculate perfection, was suddenly carpeted with patient documents and wastepaper. Although neither man was injured, Staples was not one to let such an incident pass by quietly.

"You clumsy buffoon!" he shouted, despite the fact that the accident had been a product of his own carelessness. Deep down he recognized this, and his embarrassment was giving fuel to his anger. "What do you think you’re doing, getting right in the middle of the hallway like that? Don’t you know that people come back and forth through here all the time?"

"My apologies, sir," said the custodian cordially as he squatted low to pick up the spilled garbage. He looked up and smiled at Staples. "I’ll try to be more careful next time."

Such a humble reaction was the exact opposite of what Staples had expected, and for a moment he did not know how to respond. "Well, see that you do!" he snapped at last. "And make sure you don’t get my paperwork mixed in with your garbage!"

"As you say, sir," the custodian replied. "I’ll help you pick them up, if you’d like."

Staples was used to people either cowering from him or firing back at him when he went on one of these tirades, and he found such a kindly reaction to be somehow unsettling. "Fine, then," was all that he could think of to say. He was acutely aware of the fact that everyone else on the hall was now paying close attention to them, and it was making him highly uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was to be shown up by this man. Sheepishly, he crouched down and began to help pick up the mess, trying not to let his embarrassment show.

The custodian then smiled warmly at him. "You must be Dr. Staples."

"That’s right," Staples replied, not bothering to look up from the papers he was busily gathering and reorganizing.

"My name’s Wally Lamb.