William Houghton, MD

William Houghton, MD

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"I don’t want to climb any more cliffs. I’m looking for a slow job in a small town on the prairie," says the author in this work of fiction.

We both have the brilliant everlasting dumb luck to be fueled with oxytocin, the urge to eat and to bond. St Francis called his body “brother ass.” I call mine “brother dog.”

Insurance often pushes pills rather than talk therapy, believing drugs are less expensive (although there is a fair amount of evidence to the contrary).

Digital technology is a valuable tool, but if it dazzles us with its speed and control, there is the risk that we may forget the old way of connecting.

The face of the woman sitting across from me begins to quiver, and my job as a psychiatrist is to keep my mouth shut. I knew when she came in and said her beloved Scottie of 15 years had died how big a loss that was.

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