Dr. Mike Sims glanced at his watch as he pushed open the heavy glass door and exited the family practice clinic. Depending on traffic he could be home in less than fifteen minutes. He walked briskly toward the white Honda Pilot waiting in his reserved space in the parking lot. A quick press of the button on the key fob unlocked it just a half-second before he pulled open the door and slid into the drivers seat. The warm Georgia sun had heated the cab nicely– a welcome relief in the midst of the January cold snap. It was Thursday, and he was normally off on Thursday afternoons. Dr. Sims’ final patient of the morning had required more time than he had anticipated, causing his delay in leaving the clinic. Some people simply love to recount details– every detail of every pain that they have experienced over the last 48 hours. But over thirty=five years of experience had taught him to listen carefully, because somewhere sandwiched in the midst of insignificant details was the tell-tale key to a diagnosis. Dr. Sims was a good listener. A warm, caring demeanor had always been his style, boosting his practice and retaining the respect and loyalty of most of his patients.
