Diagnosis split. Half in. Half out. All bad. Nurses and residents turned to white lemmings. Ready to leap at a gasp. Not Dr. Ted Black. Black was cool. Black was calm. A cobra surveying the scene. All mesmerizing eyes and coiled fingers. When Black got home that night he poured a double. “Lost one?” asked Mrs. Black, eyebrow raised. “Didn’t lose shit,” Black snapped back. It was true. He’d signed the certificate DOA.