As I was brushing my teeth one night, the phone rang for a housecall in Torrance, twenty miles distant.
Traffic was no problem, and Google maps guided me to the
correct address which turned out to be a massive apartment complex behind high
walls. Now and then I drove past a locked gate with no guard and no evidence
that it was the correct entrance. I phoned.
The patient’s husband answered. He was Italian and spoke
rudimentary English, and his efforts to direct me were incomprehensible.
“Uno momento…” There followed several minutes of
silence. Just before I decided he had hung up, he came on the line and resumed
his unintelligible instructions. Then my headlights illuminated a distant
figure in the middle of the deserted street waving a flashlight.
He guided me to a gate, punched the code to open it, and
directed me to visitor’s parking. I followed him through a maze of sidewalks to
the correct building. After I cared for his wife, he guided me back to my car.