Alan Edward Nourse

“ Wheatley nodded. "Nothing serious, I hope?"
"Serious? Oh, no! Dear me, you mustn't worry. Everything is going to be all right," the doctor said.
"Well—I—that is, my toe is still bothering me some. It's not nearly as bad, but I wondered if maybe you—"
Dawn broke on the doctor's face. "Give you something for it? Well now, we aren't Therapeutic men, you understand. Always best to let the expert handle the problem in his own field." He paused, stroking his chin for a moment. "Tell you what we'll do. Dr. Epstein is one of the finest Therapeutic men in the city. He could take care of you in a jiffy. ”

“ Wheatley looked worried and rubbed his toe on the chair leg.
"You know that fifty-five is a dangerous age," said the doctor gravely. "Do you have a cough? Heartburn after dinner? Prop up on pillows at night? Just as I thought! And no checkup for ten years!" He sighed again.
"I suppose I should have seen to it," Wheatley admitted. "But you see, it's just that my toe—"
"My dear fellow! Your toe is part of you. It doesn't just exist down there all by itself. If your toe hurts, there must be a reason."
Wheatley looked more worried than ever. "There must? ”

“ This etext was produced from "The Counterfeit Man: More Science Fiction Stories by Alan E. Nourse" published in 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. ”