May 7, 2011

• Small World…

  I recently admitted a patient with end stage kidney disease on dialysis who came to the hospital for nausea. When we checked a troponin to make sure he wasnt secretly having a heart attack, we found out that, in fact, he was. Cardiology was urgently consulted, and he was rushed off to the cath lab the same day to have his arteries revascularized and now he is currently awaiting a full coronary artery bypass graft, meaning his heart disease was fairly serious.

  In the midst of all this commotion, I did not have time to talk to the wife, but I went back the next morning to answer some of her questions. On my way out she asked what my name was again, she had missed it. I told her I was Dr D****. She said she used to know someone with that name.

  My surname is fairly unique so I told her we were probably related, I asked if the person she knew ever lived in New York. She said he used to, but had moved to california a long time ago to work as a teacher, and ultimately with NASA. The last time she saw him was several years ago, shortly before he died of a heart attack.

  At which point I realized she was talking about my father.

  My patient is employed as a baker, at a bakery in which my father used to apparently visit on a regular enough basis that the name stuck in this womans memory.

  Small world, isn’t it?

  • 3:58 pm
  • 2 Comments