It was midnight in the emergency department of my hospital, and the chief resident was on a roll. Clad in green scrubs — two sizes too small for his body, they emphasized his muscular physique — he dashed between the ambulance bay and the critical care rooms.
“Wen!” he barked at me, the medical intern. “Come over here to do the ‘rule-out-heart-attack’ in 3.” Two medical students grabbed their notepads and followed the chief resident and me into the room.
The patient did not look as if he were having a heart attack. Dressed in a tailored suit, a young man with a neat ponytail sat in bed, texting on his BlackBerry. The nurse’s note said the 31-year- old was having chest pain. His vital signs and electrocardiogram were normal.
“Good evening!” boomed the chief. We formed an imposing circle around the stretcher. “How are you doing?”
For people with disabilities, doctors are not always healers