A man was sitting in a wheelchair outside the operating room, dressed in one of those hospital gowns designed to remove both dignity and body heat at the same time.

He had been trying to stay calm all morning.

The surgeon had explained the procedure, the receptionist had handed him several forms, and three different nurses had asked him the same questions.

“Name?”

“Date of birth?”

“Any allergies?”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

By the fourth time, he was beginning to wonder whether anyone else knew why he was there.

Still, he remained cooperative.

Then, while waiting near the operating-room doors, he overheard a nurse speaking in a gentle, reassuring voice.

“It’s a very simple operation, don’t worry. I’m sure it will be all right.”

The man’s eyes widened.

His breathing quickened.

Without saying a word, he released the brakes on his wheelchair and began pushing himself frantically down the hospital corridor.

He rolled past the reception desk, narrowly missed a trolley and almost overtook an orderly carrying fresh towels.

A nurse spotted him speeding toward the elevators and ran after him.

She finally caught up and grabbed the handles of his wheelchair.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

He said, “I heard the nurse say, ‘It’s a very simple operation, don’t worry. I’m sure it will be all right.’”

The nurse smiled reassuringly.

“She was just trying to comfort you. What’s so frightening about that?”

The man looked back toward the operating room and replied,

“She wasn’t talking to me. She was talking to the doctor!”