In an emergency room of Manhattan's Roosevelt Hospital not long ago, a tall woman lay stretched out on a table, looking like a Valkyrie about to be immolated on her shield. Her youthful, pretty face was contorted. An intern was gently examining two fingers of her left hand, which had just been crushed in a car door, causing no serious damage but a great deal of pain. Trying to anesthetize the patient with small talk, he asked: "What do you do?" The patient gripped a cotton pad...
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