Philip Brooks gains first hane experiance of a health scare but lives to tell the tale
I recently found myself, albeit transiently, at the other end of the stethoscope. I didn't enjoy the experience one little bit. I think I had what the Daily Mail call a “health scare.” Believe me, “scare” was the word for it.
I was half way through a junior surgical rotation and was sitting in the (grotty) theatre staff room waiting for my consultant. I was flicking through a 1995 copy of Bella, I kid you not, no copies of the BMJ or the Lancet, just trashy mags designed to appeal to the kind of people who follow “reader's tips” or send in amusing pictures of their upturned tortoises in a bid to win the novelty pet competition.
Anyway, my hand came to rest momentarily on my neck and sure enough, there it was: Brooks' node. It was huge, the biggest, beefiest, meanest lymph node this side of the equator. I