It's a Small World After All

[captainsblog]

One morning, she found, as she put it, “this very bright and happy-looking woman standing by my bed. She said, ‘I’m Dr. Oaklander.’ ”

That sentence appears several columns into a very enjoyable article about a very unenjoyable experience. It's by Dr. Atul Gawande, a regular contributor to (yes) the New Yorker, and his contribution to this week's issue is about the phenomenon of (wait for it).... itching.

I'll leave the details to your perusal (this particular piece is already archived, here), but my point here relates to my own mental processes. Seeing that last name instantly reminded me of the only person I've ever known by that last name: Anne Louise, a/k/a "A.L.," who went to Cornell the same year I did, who I think I worked with briefly as a wage-slave work-study employee, and who at least one of my roommates was totally smitten by.  I can honestly say I have not thought of her in over 25 years, but seeing that last name- not Smith, mind you, but not Mxyzptlk, either- made me wonder, "Gee, I wonder if that's gonna turn out to be her."



The article continues:

Anne Louise Oaklander was about the same age as M. Her mother is a prominent neurologist at Albert Einstein College of Medicine, in New York, and she’d followed her into the field.

As for the smitten roommate? He became a doctor, too, but at least I knew THAT.



I promise. When I finally get MY 15 minutes, I'll turn off the lights as the last one out.

Comments

[headbanger118.livejournal.com]

That was one of the most oddly fascinating articles I've every read. And now I itch all over. Thanks. :p