A new patient calls for an appointment. I ask, “What would you like to come in for?”
“Depression. Two weeks ago my doctor put me on antidepressants.”
“Why don’t you see your current doctor?” I ask.
“I feel weird discussing my emotions with someone who doesn’t have any.”
…
Joe just had open-heart surgery. A triple bypass. When he left the hospital last month, he promised he’d follow a healthy diet and quit smoking for good. I call to review his cholesterol results. He picks up on the second ring.
“Hold on a minute,” he says.
The reception is poor,
…
Joe has smoked two packs per day since his teens. He knows better. I don’t need to lecture him on the dangers of smoking.
“I was a respiratory therapist back in Brooklyn,” Joe says in his thick New York accent.
“And you smoked?”
“Yep.
…
I started kissing patients in med school. And I haven’t stopped.
During my third year pediatric rotation, I used to stay up late at night in the hospital, holding sick and dying children. I’d lift them from their cribs, kiss them, and sing to them, rocking them back and forth until they fell asleep.
…
Last week a woman told me that she had a miscarriage in her bathroom. She was terrified. She didn’t know what to do. So she flushed it down the toilet.
A miscarriage is the spontaneous expulsion of a fetus from the womb before it is able to survive on its own.
…
Doctor revived after suicide. Here's what he says.
