He dragged himself wearily from his Ford Explorer out into the biting December wind. God, it’s cold, he thought as he trudged the hundred yards or so from the parking lot to the hospital. The raw air burned his sore throat and his head throbbed miserably. He keyed in the combination to the Doctor’s locker room. Encumbered by his heavy winter parka, gloves and briefcase, he struggled with the door that seemed heavier than usual. Once inside, he walked over to his locker and set his briefcase down with a grunt. Doug Landry was standing close by with his nose buried in his own locker, rooting around for something. Ken smiled. How Doug ever found anything in there was beyond Ken. Doug was the butt of many jokes about his sloppy locker habits. But Ken knew better then to be fooled by this. Doug Landry was a sharp anesthesiologist, as sharp as they came. “Lose something in there, Doug?” asked Ken as he pried off his gloves. “Oh, hi Ken,” said Doug, pulling his head out of his locker and revealing a big grin.
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