By Amy Cobb
When I saw that Mr. Jones was in for yet another exacerbation of his chronic congestive heart failure, I felt utterly exasperated. I approached his bedside to find out what had gone wrong in the few weeks since his last hospitalization when I saw them
. They were unmistakable and all too familiar. Red, freshly polished, and clownishly big, two shoes were peeking out from underneath the bedside curtain. Sniff, sniff
. If the shoes hadn’t given him away, the smell would have. I gathered whatever patience and calm I could muster and pulled back the curtain. To no surprise (but to much dismay), Ronald McDonald was sitting there by my 47 year-old obese, hypertensive, diabetic patient, serving him an oversized Big Mac and fries.