The Medicine We Don’t Prescribe
I step into the back of a van on a chilly fall day. I’m a family physician; with me are my medical assistant, Lori, and the front-office representative, Maria, from our federally qualified health center in Reno.
This van is our center’s mobile clinic—one exam room, a point-of-care lab and a front desk squeezed into a space no bigger than a typical bathroom.
Today we’re visiting a family shelter, as we do every week.