Now it can be told. When I first started out to practice internal medicine in a small community three years ago—after some 20 years in teaching hospitals—I was nervous. I felt reasonably confident in my ability to diagnose and treat (sometimes) cerebral falciparum malaria, kwashiorkor, aspergillus endocarditis, immune complex nephritis, Von Wegener's granulomatosis, pyridoxine unresponsive anemia, idiopathic hypertrophic subaortic stenosis, and a raft of other fascinating, exotic "teaching hospital diseases."
But how about "rhythmic recurring gas," "cryptogenic universal headache," "chronic insidious low back pain," "idiopathic hypertrophic blahs." And what about the doses of the drugs needed to treat these wretched things?
So I unloaded my arsenal of tomes and placed a dozen books on therapy within pivot and reach range of my desk. But what about home calls and house calls? So I sought out (with minimal fanfare) and a handy, black-bag sized book on practical management of "ordinary" diseases.