Abstract
I had just completed the usual “Tuesday overwhelming clinic,” wondering why and how I do it. It had been particularly onerous because I had not completed the morning dictation and now had the afternoon, too. After the last patient exited, I sat down and began crashing through the dictation. When more than halfway through, I pushed the listen button and instead of hearing my monotone voice come back, I heard a hiss. Frustrated, after two or three rewinds of the tape, I passed it to my trusted office manager, Michelle Carlson, hoping she could solve the problem. She ran it back and forth, and only one dictation had come through. At that point, I had a certain sense of the meaning in life, and it was definitely not positive.
I proceeded to bite the bullet and transfer the tape from my wall system to my handheld unit, thinking I would have fewer problems. I put the handheld unit on the desk, turned it on, and left it running so there would be no problem of my pushing the record button or talking into a turned off machine. I neglected to notice that the voice-activated button was on. When I replayed this portion of the dictation, I heard my voice come in staccato, punctuated spots with big holes where the activation didn't kick in. As I picked up this recorder and was winding back to hurl it across the room, my beeper went off.
Great! Just what I needed was to be beeped with some emergency. It was my daughter. I answered the page, and we discussed several things. Then, my 2—year-old grandson asked to say hi. As I was talking to him, I heard him suddenly say, “Why is Papa talking so loud?” “Today Papa is frustrated,” replied my daughter. He then said, “Papa, I love you.” The meaning of life…. That's IT!