One morning, I pulled an empty chart from the rack on the examination room door: new patient, Ms. Judith Cornish, age forty-seven. I knocked twice and entered. “Good morning, I’m Dr. Shaw,” I flipped open the chart. “You are Ms. Cornish?” (I always used last names. It was formal, I know, but I preferred erring on the side of respect, not familiarity). I extended my hand. She sat, leaning forward in a chair, one very lean leg crossed over the other. “Good morning. Yes, I’m Judy,” she said in a husky voice. She shook my hand half-heartedly. In five seconds, I had processed a huge amount of diagnostic information: One, … Continue reading
