It was a busy morning. At about 8:30, an old man who looked to be in his eighties came to the hospital to remove the stitches on his thumb. He told me eagerly that he had an important appointment at 9 o'clock and hoped that I could take care of it. I first asked the old man to sit down and looked at his medical records. I thought that according to the medical records, the old man should go to another doctor to remove the sutures, but that would have to wait at least an hour. Out of respect for the old man, I happened to have some free time at that time, so I came to remove the old man's stitches. I took off the gauze, checked the old man's injury, and saw that the injury had basically healed, so I carefully removed the stitches for the old man and applied some medicine to prevent infection. During the treatment process, I chatted with the old man for a few words. I asked him if he had made an appointment with the doctor who was supposed to remove his stitches. The old man said no. He knew that the doctor only went to work after 9:30. I asked curiously: "Then why are you here so early?" The old man smiled sheepishly and said: "I will go to the recovery room to have breakfast with my wife at 9 o'clock." This must be a loving old couple, I guessed in my heart, and the topic turned to the health of the old man's wife. The old man told me that my wife had been in the rehabilitation room for quite some time and that she was suffering from Alzheimer's disease. During the conversation, I had finished bandaging the old man. I asked: "If you arrive late, will your wife be angry?" The old man explained: "That's not true. She didn't know who I was at least five years ago."
