It was on a desolate winter evening that I escaped from Bellevue. I plunged the last IV of my day into someone’s vein and then hopped on an M-15 bus uptown, pressing my subway token into the slot with both anxiety and relief. I was in the second year of my internal medicine residency training, the middle year, which is marked by what is charitably called a “dip†in motivation. More accurately, it is a pit, a chasm, an abyss, a Stygian marsh. More
There is a veritable epidemic of doctor-writers out there. What about confidentiality? Professionalism? HIPAA? More
Diseases, like dramas, have a natural progression. There are introductions, developments, climaxes, and dénouements. More