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On Monday morning,
a patient named Guernsey...
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male, middle 70s, was admitted
to the hospital complaining of chest pains.
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He had been referred by a nursing home...
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where the doctor had
diagnosed his condition as Angina pectoris.
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It is axiomatic...
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that nursing-home doctors
are always wrong.
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The intern who admitted
Mr. Guernsey, however...
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accepted the diagnosis
and prescribed morphine...
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a drug suitable for angina,
but not at all suitable for emphysema...
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which is unfortunately
what the old man actually had.
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Within an hour, the patient
became unresponsive and diaphoretic...
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and was raced up to Intensive Care,
with an irregular pulse of 150...
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blood pressure 90 over 60,
respiration rapid and shallow.
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The resident on duty in Intensive Care
compounded the blunder...
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by treating the old man
for pulmonary edema.
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He gave him digitalis, diuretics and oxygen.
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This restored the old man's color.
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He was sent to his room
in the Holly Pavilion...
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ruddy-complected and peacefully asleep.
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But the patient was in CO 2 narcosis,
and died at 7:30 that evening.
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I mention all this only to explain
how the bed in Room 806 became available.
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The intern involved
was a prickly young buck named Schaefer...
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who had a good thing going for him
with a technician in the Hematology Lab.