"That woman—she never leaves me alone," I mutter to my friend as we dash to the cafeteria. "Every lab value. Every pulmonary treatment. Every IV. Every insulin injection. Every bowel movement...." My buddy nods knowingly. All of the interns have served time with Mrs Davis, Christy's mother.
As we whizz past the clock, I turn my head for a second. Mrs Davis is flying after me and quickly gaining ground. I shiver: Patty, won't you ever learn to muzzle your mouth? "That woman" has probably heard a good 90% of the nasty things you've said about her.
"Dr Leff, I thought we were going to see the radiologist together," she attacks.
"Mrs Davis, we will. Let me grab lunch first; you could take a break too. Then we'll go straight to radiology. There really is no hurry," I plead, I implore; I'm hungry, I'm exhausted.
She senses the earnestness in
Leff PT. So Much More to Say. JAMA. 1989;262(3):402. doi:10.1001/jama.1989.03430030090042