One of my last customers today was a woman named Carrie Kahn. I didn't know her name right away when she got up to me, but I figured it out in the process. First on the conveyor belt: a completely full brown paper grocery bag. We are instructed to ask what's in anything we can't see into, so I did. The answer: "My husband's medications." Which
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I can always tell a rotator cuff injury, too, after seeing my mother's contraption.
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