Star Treatment

• Physician-patient relations
• Physician's practice patterns
• Knowledge, attitudes, practice
• Health insurance
• Enuresis

I wet my bed. That's how it all starts. “It was an accident,” I tell myself. I am embarrassed. No more water before bed; maybe I was drinking too much beer. I am resolved. I am good. In the morning  … the bed is wet. Peeing in the bed? Humiliation. Hide it from my wife. Put a towel down. Stay on my side. Don't turn. Give up sleep. Mention it to one of my pals, boyhood friend, like a brother, big-time CEO.

“Go to see my doctor. We've just given him a big grant. He's been anointed by a major magazine. He's just the best.”

“I don't need the best. I don't deserve the best. I can't afford the best.”

“Nonsense, nothing's more important than your health.”

He calls. The earth moves. I have an appointment the next day at a major metropolitan hospital, famous for its care of celebrities. The waiting room is packed. Patients in two treatment rooms with another patient in the office. This guy doesn't have time to pass wind. My instinct is to flee  … but my friend made the call  … .

Finally in his office. I am charming. He'll see I'm special. He'll want to take care of me. He stares at my shoulder as I talk. Not a good sign. “I wet the bed.” He looks past me, then speaks. He radiates confidence, experience, and enthusiastic energy.

“I haven't got time for this  … but for a friend of.  …”

Instant diagnosis. My bladder is overflowing. My prostate must be enlarged. Assume the position. Invade my privates. We need some tests. Blood  … urine  … ultrasonography of my bladder. “Make an appointment with my secretary. We'll start with medication to see if we can reduce the size of the prostate. If it …