I sat in my doctor's office a couple of weeks ago waiting for my annual physical. I soon grew tired of all the science and car magazines and started looking around. As in most doctors' offices, most things had pharmaceutical company logos on them: The clock, the Kleenex dispenser, the calendar. But what gave birth to this column was the doctor himself. He walked out of one of the examination rooms, clipboard in hand, talking to a patient. The guy was about my age and listening intently.