When “healing” loses its meaning: A cynical medical resident meets Patch Adams
The afternoon began like any other day in medical school. Students arrived at the lecture hall and took their seats. An individual with long blue-and-white hair and handlebar mustache entered the room wearing oversized fish-print pants, a loose-fitting clown shirt, and a single earing fashioned out of a bent fork. He casually strolled up to the front, introduced himself as Dr. Patch Adams, and told us …