There is a patient that comes in regularly to the clinic. He's been coming for about as long as I have worked here (somewhere in the neighborhood of 4.5 years). For the sake of saving on confusion (while protecting the identity of the patient), I will now christen him Rob.
Rob is an older fellow. Not so old as Noah but about as old has your younger granparents. He comes into the office in spurts. Several times a week for a few weeks and then we don't see anything of him for a few months at a time.
Rob is a funny fellow. He has no boundaries when it comes to personal space (please remember this later on...). His conversations are loud and weird, usually gravitating toward the uncomfortable personal areas that are not easily shared between front desk medical staff and patient. Rob is one of a kind.
One day, after a particularly unusual conversation, Rob comes up to me (whilst I am on hold on the phone with an insurance company), steps beyond the natural barrier that patients should know not to cross behind the front desk (WHY do people not understand this?!), stoops down so his face is inches, no, CENTIMETERS, from my face, turns my chair so I am facing him, places his hands on my shoulders and says to me, "There is just something you need to know about me: I'm a hands on kind of guy." Meanwhile, as I'm picking my jaw up off the floor and calculating the distance to the nearest hand sanitizer bottle wherewith to cleanse my entire being from this incident, Rob's wife calls him back to the waiting room.
That'll teach you to be nice and humor old people.
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