To the Editor.
—I am not a physician, though I did work as an administrative assistant for risk management at University of Washington Hospital while my husband attended medical school; he is the physician in the house. His JAMA is delivered to our home where we live with our two young (aged 6 and 3 years) children. Perhaps most physicians' wives screen their husbands' mail more thoroughly than I do. Ours is usually dumped all together in a chair at the top of the stairs and then sorted through sooner or later.
Mine was not a knee-jerk reaction on first seeing the cover of the June 10, 1992, issue.1 But it perturbed me when I imagined how traumatic an image it could have been for my children had they chanced to see it first.
Our family enjoys having JAMA delivered to our home; the kids and I especially so
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