Abstract
Was medicine an enjoyable profession in the dark ages when all sorts of evidence did not illuminate our path? I confess that I still enjoy seeing patients, but the feeling is short lived and turns into anguish when I have to advise them. Consider, for example, my first patient this morning, a man in his mid-40s, married, and for a long time happy with his married life, which included a good sex life. His diagnostic work-up clearly shows that he has essential hypertension, and the weight of the evidence forces me to insist on my previous prescription of diuretics and β-blockers (one or the other of them alone has not been enough) despite his assertion that my treatment has ruined his sex life and my fear that he will soon become non-compliant.
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