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the
examination room with one of the most beautiful women I had ever
seen in tow.
    “Sounds like someone is having a bad night,”
the Chief of Medicine said to my patient.
    Tyrone’s response came in the form of another
violent round of puking.
    “Sorry to interrupt, Nick. I just wanted to
introduce you to one of our new medical interns. This is Lara
Russell,” Robert said.
    Lara was on a tour of the hospital, so she
was not wearing the scrubs or lab coat typically worn by the
medical staff. Instead, she wore a professionally appropriate
blouse and skirt. The clothing was not designed to highlight her
physical features, but she would have been hard-pressed to find
anything that could hide them. She was tall, skinny and chesty. Her
blond hair was cut in a short, stylish fashion that certainly
required a lot of expensive upkeep. Her exposed legs and arms were
tanned almost brown and looked out of place compared to the
extremities of everyone else living through the winter in Illinois.
Overall she looked better suited to be a Hawaiian Tropic bikini model than a doctor.
    “Nice to meet you, Dr. Whittier,” Lara
greeted me with an extended hand.
    “Likewise,” I responded as I returned the
gesture.
    I immediately regretted my single word
response. It had been an impulsive attempt to look cool and hip,
but I was sure it had failed miserably. I realized this was not the
worst part of the introduction a second later. A small dab of
Tyrone’s vomit had been on my hand and was transferred to Lara’s
during the handshake. She sneered at the partially digested chicken
soup and turned towards the sink at the back of the room. I was
about to apologize when Robert interrupted.
    “We were just finishing up the tour, so I
thought I’d pop in and show her Doogie Howser in action.”
    “Doogie Howser?” Lara questioned over the
sound of a running faucet.
    “Oh, you’re probably too young to remember
that old TV show,” Robert reminisced. “It was about a genius kid
who becomes a doctor. Dr. Whittier here was only twenty years old
when we hired him. Not quite as smart as Doogie, but impressive
nonetheless. The weird thing is that he doesn’t look a day older
than he did on the day we met.”
    “Doogie Howser wasn’t so smart,” I said
quickly to change the subject. “Look at the end of the show when he
was on the computer. He could only type, like, eight words per
minute.”
    Having never seen the show, Lara did not
understand the reference. Robert got it but did not care. The joked
failed, and I felt embarrassed for the second time in as many
minutes. A silence fell in the room as even Tyrone’s chorus of
upchucking had momentarily abated.
    “So, are we all done here?” Tyrone’s father
awkwardly interrupted.
    “Yes, sorry,” I answered. “Give him plenty of
clear fluids and Tylenol for the—”
    “Don’t give that child Tylenol!” Robert
interjected forcefully. “Fever is an important part of the human
immune system. It helps kill the virus.”
    “Sir,” I started diplomatically for the sake
of my patient. “I really don’t think—”
    “Dr. Whittier, I have been practicing
medicine a lot longer than you. I think I know the proper way to
treat the flu.”
    I found his statement to be quite amusing as
I was old enough to remember the creation of modern medicine.
    “Is that true?” Tyrone’s father asked. “Will
the fever help him get better faster?”
    “Yes,” Lara answered as she stared down at
the chart she had taken the liberty of examining. “But it’s kind of
a moot point if his brain boils.”
    Robert furrowed his brow at the chart that
Lara helpfully pushed towards him. He let out a whistle and shook
his head in resignation.
    “Boy, that’s a high fever. Yeah, on second
thought go ahead and give him the Tylenol just to be on the safe
side. The trade-off is that he’ll be sick longer but feel less
miserable over that period of time.”
    Robert, Lara and I escorted Tyrone and his
father