As a doctor, I’m bound by doctor-patient privilege to not disclose the specifics of what I’m about to tell you. But as a human being, I feel compelled to share. This is, without a doubt, the most horrific story I’ve ever had the displeasure of being a part of. It was 2009, and my schedule that day was light. I was just finishing up my lunch when I got a call from a friend and colleague who had his own practice in the same building as me. Sometimes we would send work each other’s way when we knew the other could use it. I was a bit elated at the prospect of him calling me because I had just been going over my books and stressing a bit. “Are you busy right now? I’d like to send someone up to you,” he said. “No, my afternoon is barren. What are the details?” “It’s a walk-in. From the look of it, an eating disorder. Her mother is concerned.” Eating disorder. Those can be unpleasant. I’d actually had a bulimic throw up in my office once when I stepped out momentarily to check my calendar. ...
Stories that are collected from the depths of the unknown or spawned from the deep recesses of my mind...