Wednesday, May 15, 2013


I'M REMEMBERING A NONAGENARIAN patient of mine.  He was a delightful man I visited regularly at his home, where he still lived well and independently. He'd smoked roll-your-owns, drunk blockade whiskey, and indulged in Caligula-mocking excesses all his life. 

"My doctors told me years ago that I had to quit all that stuff or it would kill me," he said.  "If you like, I can show you where they're all buried."

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