Medical matters

Andrew called me Thursday night, well, morning, actually, as he never paid attention to the fact that there was five hours' difference between Washington and Paris.

"Don't go to the doctor's!" he exclaimed, not saying hello, sorry I woke you up, or how did dinner with the ambassador go.

"I wasn't planning to," I said, trying to find the switch on the table lamp but knocking the stopper out of the decanter instead. As long as it was open, I poured a drink and settled into a chair.

"I've just come from a discussion where someone said that the third largest cause of death in America is medical malpractice! It's right up there after heart disease and cancer," he said excitedly.

"Not enough red wine and olive oil," I said. "The French don't suffer from heart disease the way we do."

"Medical malpractice kills more people than murderers, car accidents, breast cancer, Alzheimer's and diabetes combined!" he continued excitedly.

"Physician, heal thyself!" I said, toasting with a rather subtle Beaujolais.

"Everyone hates lawyers, but it seems the doctors are the real villains," Andrew said.

"I can't see doctor jokes coming into vogue," I said. "Doctors might be inept, but by and large they're likeable. Unless they drive BMWs."

"Yeah, well, that's true of all BMW drivers," he agreed, finally calming down. "But this is a great opportunity."

"Opportunity? For whom? Undertakers?" I asked.

"No, to put in my presidential platform," he said. "'Trumbull attacks third major cause of death in the US,'" he said, testing the ring of the headline. "That's not bad, is it?"

"It's better than 'Trumbull crucifies doctors,'" I said.

The line was silent for a moment and I contemplated refilling my glass.

"This could come under the heading of things the public are better off not knowing," he said eventually.

"I'm sure it comes under 'national security,'" I said.

"You think so? Good."

"Good night, Andrew."