When Metro-North train service was cancelled because of a derailment, I stayed at my daughter’s apartment so it would be easier to get to work in the city, and that first night as I was about to brush my teeth, I made an amazing discovery when I opened the medicine cabinet. I realized how little we know about our family members.
I was angry. I was shocked. I realized medicine cabinets are the portals to the soul of humanity. OK, maybe that’s an exaggeration. Let me state unequivocally that I’m not one of those people who is invited to stay at your house and then repays the kindness by rifling through the medicine cabinet in search of embarrassing little secrets I can reveal on Twitter. I’ll rifle through your medicine cabinet for a higher, more profound purpose. Frankly I don’t care what kind of pills you take or what kinky delights you have hidden there. My interests are purely clinical.