...and I'm a goner. I was only there to wait for Angelina. I didn't want to buy a book, I didn't need to buy a book, and yet I came home with a book because once I saw it, I had to have it. It's an illness, I suppose.
The book is The Medical Detectives by Berton Roueche. He wrote articles for The New Yorker about tracking down the causes of medical problems from 1947 to 1988. Twenty-five stories! Of epidemiological investigations! Aaaaaahhhhhh... :)
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