Nobody cared about our next album, and everyone diagnosed me correctly, which makes me think that either infective endocarditis is very easy to spot or the point of the case is to make them deal with a difficult patient.
The differences in skill level and bedside manner were kind of staggering: all the way from the supercompetent guy who got my history, did his exam, worked out a treatment plan for the endocarditis and some long-term addiction treatment options, and was out the door with two minutes to spare, to the guy whose spoken English was almost nonexistent, to the stern-faced guy who sneered audibly the second time I said "fuck" and told me he would prefer that I not use that sort of language in his exam room.
That last one really peeved me and made me worry for his future as a doctor in the U.S. If a handful of cusswords rattle him so badly, there's no way he'd survive a full shift in an actual ER. As far as toxic, hostile patients go, heroin-girl is comparatively mild.
eta: Also, it was interesting to see how easily I could kinda-sorta lie and get away with it. Every doctor nailed the addiction because of the track marks, but pretty much solely because of the track marks. They all missed big chunks of my past history, because it was incredibly easy to be vague, evasive or hand-wavey, or even to shut down entirely and refuse to answer, and none of them picked up on it or pushed it. Makes me think that it would be easier than you'd think to hide an addiction.