Sexual harassment in the workplace

The fact that I'm now a doctor somehow causes everyone around me to assume that, if they have a problem and there is no other specific person who has the solution, I am the one to turn to. "Doctor, I've noticed my dog's farts smell a lot worse lately." "Doctor, I think my son might be gay. Can they do hypnosis for that?" "Doctor, I have a nearly uncontrollable urge to shout obscenities when I go to church." This is a priniciple I have been familiar with since childhood. The reason this knowledge did not deter me from going to medical school is that I believed, naively as it turns out, that medical school would actually prepare me to answer these questions. After all, there must be some reason people feel their doctor should have an opinion on whether or not they should let their child play violent video games. I figured, as many others do, that doctors must have access to some secret, ancient knowledge to which only a chosen few are allowed access. In fact, somewhere deep in my subconscious, I'm still hoping my program director will turn a wall-mounted oxygen dial in a particular sequence opening a hidden passage leading to a dark room deep below the hospital where he will gather all the interns, tell us to forget everything we learned in medical school as it was just to keep up appearances for the general public, and unlock a dusty, leather-bound book containing the real answers.

Clem Bronson, a 70 year old army vet from Oklahoma who wears cowboy boots, gray hair down to the shoulders, a thick bushy mustache and a face that appears to have been left out in the sun too long had been admitted two days earlier with a COPD exaccerbation. On the way to his room this morning, I was confronted by the respiratory therapist. "Mr. Bronson really made upset Rachel this morning." Tall, blond, 25 year-old Rachel was his nurse today.
"How so?"
"He was making comments about her legs and her butt. Rachel told him to stop, but he didn't. She was really upset."
And, the fact that I went to medical school and wear a white coat makes me qualified to deal with this situation how?

That morning on rounds, we decided to have a little chat with Mr. Bronson about his behavior. His response, "Yeah, I know she's upset. She'll git over it." Great. And in regal fashion, the men in white coats come charging forth in order to...have virtually no impact on the situation. If it happens again, plan B is to recruit the second large category of professionals one goes to when there's nobody else who is specifically qualified to deal with their problem - the police.