I am retired now but for 45 years I was a general practice physician in Memphis, Tennessee.

I enjoyed being a doctor.

It was an easy job for me because I loved what I did.

I was a partner with a small practice most of those years, but before that I worked in the

ER of one of the largest hospitals in the mid-south.

And as you may well know, we see all sorts of strange things in the ER.

On a Saturday night in 1974, when we were usually very busy, a man was brought in by

ambulance who was suffering from chest pains as he described it.

We treated him and found that he was not having a heart attack.

He was experiencing extreme stress from an event that he had endured earlier in the day, hyperventilating and shaking

uncontrollably. In addition, it looked as if he had been dragged through a briar patch.

He had scratches all over his face, arms, and legs.

He had come home from a hunting trip that evening and his wife noticed something was wrong with him and called an ambulance.

She walked into the ER with him and explained that he had been hunting that day and had been dropped off by a friend.

The minute he walked into the house she knew something was wrong.

He wouldn't talk. He would not even look at her, could not get his

breathing under control. She was sure he was having a heart attack. We treated

this man for his symptoms, namely we wanted to calm him down and be able to communicate with him.

I was still in school at the time and working under the supervision of the resident ER doctor

who suggested we give him a mild sedative to help him relax and gain his composure.

The sedative was given and we left the room to give it time to work.

An hour later I returned to his room and he had calmed considerably. He immediately asked to be discharged, but I thought it best that he stay with us for the evening

...