A diagnostic delay of 60 years sets the scene for a Christmas surprise
I was a cranky baby, so my mother told me, but sympathy finally came my way at age 2 when I urinated blood. “Nephritis,” was our doctor’s diagnosis, “Post-strep, most likely.” This was back in the 1950s, when doctors were still diagnosticians, diagnoses were often clinical, and clinical management usually expectant. In hindsight, the decision to do nothing more proved to be a wise one.
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