Your humble Luddite Whistleblower has leapt across the sea to reach the Isle of Technology. I now own and operate an iPhone, which identifies me as groovy, hip and cool, three adjectives that none of our 5 kids ever use to describe their technophobic father. I’m told that my text messages are too long and too frequent. I am admonished that it is not necessary for me to photograph moments of high drama, such as a kid eating breakfast, and then to disseminate the image to my contact list. I am reminded often that I am slow to grasp the mechanical intricacies of the device, such as switching from ring to vibration mode. You may wonder how it was possible that I, who consider using an ATM to be a high level computer operation, could make the iPhone, my phone. I knew I couldn’t fail, despite my trepidation of all things cyber. I had a secret weapon, a ‘Plan B’. Actually, I had Plan Z, the most powerful asset that anyone in my situation could hope for. Z stands for Zachy. One sentence will
MD Whistleblower presents vignettes and commentaries on the medical profession. We peek 'behind the medical curtain' and deliver candor and controversy in every post.