Alexandra Garcia was just 20 years old when came to me from the pediatrics nephrology clinic with urine that contained blood I could see only with the help of a microscope and nearly a gram of protein when normal is less than 150 milligrams.
I saw the 2 burly police officers in the hallway before I saw my patient. They wore latex gloves, ready to take action no matter how messy it got. I didn’t think much of it. Blue men were not an uncommon sight along the hospital wards of San Francisco General Hospital.
It was Wednesday evening when I walked into my home to find my 6-foot-2-inch 15-year-old son, Avery, sitting on the living room couch and sobbing, his head hanging down. I had just spent the last half-hour driving to and from a gym, while he caught a ride home with his basketball coach.
It was still winter and she had recently been admitted to hospital for the flu. This past season the flu, which usually just kills sickly babies and old people, was killing healthy young adults. She was still in her twenties, but nowhere near healthy.