Dr. Martin Duke’s poignant article “Once upon a time, there was little black bag” brought to mind that we as visiting and public health nurses also carried a little black bag. Only we were making “home visits,” and the doctors made “house calls.” Maybe our nomenclature was a telling difference between the professions, our particular missions and goals, and our respective relationships with our patients and families. Both of us, of course, were welcomed by families as friends, but the expectations and outcomes, while complementary, were relatively focused on each profession’s primary goals. The physician’s goal was to diagnose and cure patients, and the nurse focused on providing care and comfort. Not that nurses didn’t diagnose, but those diagnoses were always carefully couched in terms acceptable to that fine line between territorial domains. I can remember discovering Koplik spots (early signs of measles) in a child’s mouth and teaching the mother how to identify them, prevent secondary sequelae, and protect her other children; I also explained the criteria for seeking a medical consultation. Furthermore, I added the information to the Public Health Department’s information database on communicable diseases, informed the mother that I would contact the school, and established a follow-up plan.