bed Saturday morning.
“Today’s the day.” He pumped his fist in the air. “I start jogging again.”
He donned his old running shoes, socks, shorts and shirt, and stretched out his hamstrings and calves for several minutes. After gulping down a large glass of water, he grabbed a key and locked the front door behind him.
Now start slow and work up to a decent distance over a few weeks. Don’t overdo it.
He took a deep breath and broke into a gentle jog down his street. Marley was in her front yard and Aaron waved at her as he jogged by. She smiled at him and he picked up his speed, turning right at the intersection. Slow down, she’s not watching now.
He was able to make it as far as the trailer home of his alcoholic patient Rocky Donnigan, where he turned around and walked back to his house.
That felt good. I’ll have that pleasant muscle soreness later.
After throwing off his soggy shirt and showering off the sweat, Aaron drove from his house in the direction of a large hospital about forty-five minutes away. He cranked up the radio.
After a while, he smiled. “I’m beginning to recognize some of these country songs. That’s ‘People Are Crazy,’ by Billy Currington.”
He parked in the main lot at the front, walked through the entrance, and studied the directory on a wall by the front lobby elevators. After a few turns down hallways on the first floor, he came to a nursing administration office.
He knocked and a woman appeared at the door. “Are you Dr. Rovsing?” she said.
“Yes, thanks for seeing me.”
“My pleasure. I’m Rachel. Please have a seat.” Rachel sat down in a chair behind her desk. “You wanted some information about a patient?”
Aaron handed her a piece of paper. “I’d appreciate whatever you can tell me about this patient. He lives near my clinic, and I’d like to find out if I can help him in any way.”
She smiled at him. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“I just moved here from the Northeast.”
“Well then, welcome to Texas.”
“I imagine I’ll pick up a little of the Southern drawl over time.”
“Most people do.”
Rachel typed on her computer keyboard and studied the monitor. “Sid Taggett. He was admitted three times over the last six months or so. The doctors suspected a neurologic disease of some sort, but no specific diagnosis was given. They considered amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, ALS.”
“Some neurologic diseases can be difficult to pinpoint, and it may take time. If you don’t think of an unusual diagnosis, you may not order the right tests.”
Rachel looked up. “How’s he doing now?”
“He’s mostly bedridden. His wife takes care of him.”
She opened more records on the computer screen. “There’s something else here, an interesting note in the past medical history from one of the doctors.”
She summarized the report. “The wife, Mrs. Taggett, brought her son to the hospital multiple times. This was years ago, when her son was a toddler and a preschooler. One of the doctors mentioned the possibility of child abuse. Then the son’s hospital visits stopped.”
“Can I read some of the notes?”
“No problem. Pull a chair around.”
Aaron sat at the computer beside Rachel and scanned medical reports on the computer screen for several minutes.
“Look at this,” he said. “One of the consultant reports mentions Munchausen by Proxy. They thought she might’ve been hurting her son on purpose to gain sympathy and attention from her friends and doctors.”
“I’ve heard of that.”
“It’s a rare psychiatric disease. As I recall from medical school, it can be hard to treat, and the children can develop psych problems of their own.”
“How do they treat it?”
“Mainly psychotherapy and counseling, I think. I’m pretty sure there’s no specific medication for treating it.”
“I thought by now we had medicines for everything,” Rachel said.
“Unfortunately not. To make matters worse, some
“Today’s the day.” He pumped his fist in the air. “I start jogging again.”
He donned his old running shoes, socks, shorts and shirt, and stretched out his hamstrings and calves for several minutes. After gulping down a large glass of water, he grabbed a key and locked the front door behind him.
Now start slow and work up to a decent distance over a few weeks. Don’t overdo it.
He took a deep breath and broke into a gentle jog down his street. Marley was in her front yard and Aaron waved at her as he jogged by. She smiled at him and he picked up his speed, turning right at the intersection. Slow down, she’s not watching now.
He was able to make it as far as the trailer home of his alcoholic patient Rocky Donnigan, where he turned around and walked back to his house.
That felt good. I’ll have that pleasant muscle soreness later.
After throwing off his soggy shirt and showering off the sweat, Aaron drove from his house in the direction of a large hospital about forty-five minutes away. He cranked up the radio.
After a while, he smiled. “I’m beginning to recognize some of these country songs. That’s ‘People Are Crazy,’ by Billy Currington.”
He parked in the main lot at the front, walked through the entrance, and studied the directory on a wall by the front lobby elevators. After a few turns down hallways on the first floor, he came to a nursing administration office.
He knocked and a woman appeared at the door. “Are you Dr. Rovsing?” she said.
“Yes, thanks for seeing me.”
“My pleasure. I’m Rachel. Please have a seat.” Rachel sat down in a chair behind her desk. “You wanted some information about a patient?”
Aaron handed her a piece of paper. “I’d appreciate whatever you can tell me about this patient. He lives near my clinic, and I’d like to find out if I can help him in any way.”
She smiled at him. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“I just moved here from the Northeast.”
“Well then, welcome to Texas.”
“I imagine I’ll pick up a little of the Southern drawl over time.”
“Most people do.”
Rachel typed on her computer keyboard and studied the monitor. “Sid Taggett. He was admitted three times over the last six months or so. The doctors suspected a neurologic disease of some sort, but no specific diagnosis was given. They considered amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, ALS.”
“Some neurologic diseases can be difficult to pinpoint, and it may take time. If you don’t think of an unusual diagnosis, you may not order the right tests.”
Rachel looked up. “How’s he doing now?”
“He’s mostly bedridden. His wife takes care of him.”
She opened more records on the computer screen. “There’s something else here, an interesting note in the past medical history from one of the doctors.”
She summarized the report. “The wife, Mrs. Taggett, brought her son to the hospital multiple times. This was years ago, when her son was a toddler and a preschooler. One of the doctors mentioned the possibility of child abuse. Then the son’s hospital visits stopped.”
“Can I read some of the notes?”
“No problem. Pull a chair around.”
Aaron sat at the computer beside Rachel and scanned medical reports on the computer screen for several minutes.
“Look at this,” he said. “One of the consultant reports mentions Munchausen by Proxy. They thought she might’ve been hurting her son on purpose to gain sympathy and attention from her friends and doctors.”
“I’ve heard of that.”
“It’s a rare psychiatric disease. As I recall from medical school, it can be hard to treat, and the children can develop psych problems of their own.”
“How do they treat it?”
“Mainly psychotherapy and counseling, I think. I’m pretty sure there’s no specific medication for treating it.”
“I thought by now we had medicines for everything,” Rachel said.
“Unfortunately not. To make matters worse, some
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