I now live near the cousin I was closest to growing up. We always lived hundreds of miles apart (seemingly in my ten year old mind) and only saw each other at family reunions and other visits. But we loved each other dearly from a young age and we would talk and play every time we got together.
I'm a talker, she's a talker. When we were about thirteen we had a family reunion on a lake and some of the families rented boathouses. We slept on top of the boat at night. Or maybe I shouldn't say slept - we watched the stars and talked all night and then slept a couple hours. Talk, talk, talk.
Now we live within thirty minutes of each other. But there's a lot we can't talk about these days. My job is governed by privacy laws (HIPAA) that restrict me from giving patient information; her job is much more exciting - she arranges travel for certain parts of the military. Top secret stuff. When I ask her about it she vaguely says things like, "well, you know what I do" or "you can figure it out well enough" but will not confirm anything. It kind of astounds me that this former talker has the discipline to keep her mouth shut, but I suppose that she understands what hangs in the balance if she were to violate her oath. I admire that.
Of course, my work-around is to have an anonymous blog. You don't know me or where I'm at so I can drop bits of work information that won't lead you to anyone who may or may not be in the hospital. And I realize that is stretching this thing as far as possible, but it's how I've decided to deal with it. Cause I'm a talker.
No comments:
Post a Comment