New England journal

Sunday: United States immigration officials are scary. In my student days they sniffed my toothpaste—or was it the Customs? The huge shoulder badges still intimidate me, even here in Shannon airport where the lady with the stamp tries to inject world weary gruffness into her west of Ireland brogue.

Monday: “Grand rounds” suggests big processions from bed to bed, or a series of cases with obscure Bostonian diagnoses to challenge the visiting professor. It actually means …