The Yale Journal for Humanities in Medicine

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The Error
(continued)

“I’m sorry this happened Morgan. I know you’ve had problems like this in the past, but this time it was definitely the medicine that set it off. The dose I wrote on your prescription was way too high.”

“I know doc,” he said, staring at me. “And no way in hell I’ll be taking any more of it now, that’s for sure!” He laughed at his own joke, but all I managed to do was grin and shake my head along with him. “And don’t worry doc,” he went on, still speaking without he slightest hint of anger, “I won’t sue.” With that he really laughed, and I bowed my head in shame.

Later Morgan asked if he could continue seeing me in the clinic. His loyalty shocked me. After all, wasn’t this admission my fault? “My regular clinic is at the veterans' hospital,” I said. “If you were ever in the service you can come see me there.” But he had never signed up.

“That would have been nice,” he said.

He seemed genuinely happy that any doctor would continue to take interest in him over a period of time as I had. It suddenly dawned on me that perhaps he had never seen a physician more than once. It also dawned on me that this was just Morgan’s natural, non-judgmental disposition. Maybe this is what I had felt when we first met, that he is imposing on the outside but gentle underneath. Not always such a good combination, and our conversation reminded me that kind people often get taken advantage of in this world, especially in the cold world of shelters, homelessness, and drug abuse.

With Morgan’s permission I listened to his heart and lungs, and examined his abdomen and ankles. Thankfully nothing had changed from my exam in the clinic the other day. We talked about the possible catheterization in Boston, and I agreed that it was a good idea, despite the potential cost. His heart disease was real and needed to be evaluated, or events like this one would repeat themselves over and over again, albeit with different triggers. I thanked him again, said goodbye, and headed for the door.

“Come by and visit me again on Monday, Doc.,” he shouted.

“Will do,” I replied, knowing I surely would.

* * * * *

Published: May 19, 2003

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