The Persecution of Mildred Dunlap

I rarely write personal posts but I just read about something at Kerry Dwyer’s blog site that reminded me of something that changed my life, something I wanted to share, the power of touch.

While in grad school at UCLA, I had a clinical rotation at a VA outpatient hospital, when a homeless man was brought in to the emergency room. He was filthy with a foul odor, as if he hadn’t changed his clothes in days nor took them off to go to the bathroom. I saw him come with the paramedics and the commotion that ensued with a lull before anyone started treatment, to gown and glove up, goggles over eyes, all body parts covered. The swarm of doctors and nurses began working on him as I made my way over to what looked like a great teaching experience I didn’t want to miss out on. When one…

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