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The healing

Oh Asclepius You have honored me by imparting your art. Through space and time I have come to see the lowness of man and also their majesty 
Not just to hear but to listen is quickly losing its spark for each patient I see through beurecatic regulation is now merely a chart. Click all the boxes so the government implies doing all this will save your life. 
Now I am stripped of all cognition for if I suggest what is not in the box I am guilty of deviation.
I miss the days were the patient could converse and tell me what is happening without some pre printed verse.
The doctor is in but you may not see him. There are PAs , NPs and scribes that wedge in between him. 
Like some Kafka novel you meander through hoping that someone can help you .
Finally your time is up. The doctor you hoped to see never showed up. A prescription awaits you at the check out station. You made it, the waiting room breaks out with a standing ovation. You proudly hold you prescription up high. Thank you all and good bye .

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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Date: 8/15/2016 1:26:00 AM
My...a moving write about the system. I liked the reference to the Kafka novel...hoping someone can help you. Nice touch. Why is it so hard to get the help we need from the right person? I guess some questions will remain unanswered. Your poem sheds a light. Thanks for the visit to my poem....
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lawrence goldman
Date: 8/15/2016 5:27:00 PM
Thank you for your kind words . As a physician nearing the end of my carrier I sometimes feel I am a dinosaur gazing into the abyss and I wonder who will care for me