Staring straight ahead, stiffly erect, he was seated on the last of the gray folding chairs, a half dozen of which lined the wall of the neurology ward and which constituted the waiting area for the tiny one-room ophthalmology department. A neatly dressed, thin man in his early 50s, he waited quietly, alone in the dim hallway, the last appointment of the morning clinic. Tucked under his right arm was a white cane with a wrist strap attached to the handle, and he wore sunglasses, large black ones with dark lenses, and a style that I had seen Ray Charles wear when he was performing.
Reavell GT. Jobs. JAMA. 2009;302(23):2523–2524. doi:10.1001/jama.2009.1809
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