Washington Post

It was midnight in the emergency department of my hospital, and the chief resident was on a roll. Clad in green scrubs — two sizes too small for his body, they emphasized his muscular physique — he dashed between the ambulance bay and the critical care rooms.

“Wen!” he barked at me, the medical intern. “Come over here to do the ‘rule-out-heart-attack’ in 3.” Two medical students grabbed their notepads and followed the chief resident and me into the room.

The patient did not look as if he were having a heart attack. Dressed in a tailored suit, a young man with a neat ponytail sat in bed, texting on his BlackBerry. The nurse’s note said the 31-year- old was having chest pain. His vital signs and electrocardiogram were normal.

“Good evening!” boomed the chief. We formed an imposing circle around the stretcher. “How are you doing?”