Random Thoughts While Counting Money: The one aspect of a small practice that's been hardest for me to get used to is counting the money at the end of the day. For one thing, it knocked me off the high horse I used to ride, when I didn't even know the price of my services, let alone how or if my patients paid me. (All things mammon were beneath me in those days. I thought of medicine as a higher calling, not a trade.) But endorsing checks has evolved into a small pleasure. Not because I've become enamored with money, but because I've become captivated by the self-expression on display in my patients' checks. They're better than bumper stickers. (You can even design your own.)

Sometimes, the match between check and person is obvious, like the park ranger who has national parks checks. (Yes, we have a national park in Northeast Ohio.) Sometimes, I don't even have to touch the check to identify the patient, like when their distinctive cologne comes wafting out of the envelope. Sometimes the checks are poignant, like the motorcycle checks with the logo "Ride Free or Die" in the corner whose owner is recovering from a head injury he got while riding his motorcyle - helmetless. Sometimes the checks are incongrous, like the check adorned with clowns whose owner hasn't smiled once in the seven years I've known her. And sometimes they hold diagnostic clues, like the checks of the Parkinson's patients. Who knew so much could be gained by just counting money?

One more random thought about money: Alexander Hamilton was one good looking man.