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I sat in first class and looked out the airplane window as we lifted off from SeaTac for Guadalajara. The rain on my window blurred my vision of the landscape and the waters of the Puget Sound as we took on speed, climbing above the clouds for what would be a smooth flight. As soon as we leveled off, a flight attendant offered me a scotch which I didn’t decline, although it was barely 10:00 am and I usually didn’t drink so early. Perhaps, a jolt to my system would help me understand why I had rescheduled patients to travel to Mexico on the whims of a man I hardly knew. Correct that. I should say to answer his SOS call. He’d been accused of murdering his wife, a crime that he denied, and was hiding out in Mexico. He’d be arrested if he set foot in the U.S. Likewise, he’d also be arreste
