R. Gu. Sixty-four-year-old Chinese man. Sepsis.
Richard, the night attending, was leading sign-out rounds. We stopped at Mr. Gu’s stretcher. Four other doctors--the admitting team--were already ministering to him, which meant, in theory, he would not be my responsibility.
Came in at 1 a.m. complaining of not feeling well. We counted two coats, two sweaters, a shirt, undershirt, and thermal underwear--and he was still shaking. Temp 104. Blood pressure 140 over 70. Okay so far. But he may be a sick cookie.
Mr. Gu registered no protest as a nurse poked his arms for more blood.
An hour later Mr. Gu’s cubicle was filled with the same bustling white coats.
