Chocolate Heart

Prisoners have been known to be manipulative in the medical clinic, and I have been known to be on the naive, trusting side of the spectrum. (While on rounds as an intern, I presented a patient with the history of being chased all night by "meth heads." Incidentally, his legs looked like they were covered in tree bark. This tale caused my program director's mustache to twitch into a sly smirk during my presentation...Later, when the patient claimed the meth heads pulled up to his hospital window in a tanker truck and that the nurses were in a meth ring, I became suspicious.)

In prison they call my type the "chocolate heart," chocolate for short, or "don't go all chocolatey on us!" The last doc in my position was the opposite of chocolate, and I don't mean vanilla. Perhaps sour grape?

In medicine, the doctor who gives out the narcotics is the "candy man." Fortunately for me, there isn't a lot of candy to give out in prison. No one is on chronic narcotics, and even drugs like neurontin require approval by special committee. (Apparently, there are all kinds of meds you can get high on, and all sorts of ways to procure your meds, despite having an officer shine a flash light in your mouth after you swallow.) Of course, many inmates have "burning, tingling nerve pain" and it's hard for this chocolate heart to separate the wheat from the chaff. I'll just go back to eating tootsie rolls in my office.