Abstract

Mr. John Sneed was only 62, but appeared much older. I thought he looked about 75 years old. He was neatly dressed: a well-pressed, dark blue pin-striped suit, shining black shoes, a white shirt, an impeccable tie knot, and gold cufflinks. He was wearing bifocal glasses and must have shaved that morning. His silvery hair was well styled. He looked uncomfortable, however, sounded hesitant and unsure of himself, and kept apologizing for “wasting” my time. “I am sure you have more urgent patients to attend to, Doctor,” he said at least twice. I tried to reassure him and wondered whether he had some type of anxiety disorder.