The doctor retires: on the humanity of healthcare.

The last patient lies to me (of course):
about never having had headaches before,
about not being depressed,
about how well he slept
before the accident,
before he fell on a wet floor at work
and tapped the left side of his head
like a finger on a desk.

The lawyers for my last deposition
shave the truth as smooth as a peach
(of course). I’m closing the store—
soon I will take down all my diplomas,
gaudy posters of Seventies’ art shows,
and a few certificates of competence.

No one including myself can guess
what I feel, beavering after truth,
a half century of healing ended
mirroring the hardships of others,
stripping away layers of falsehoods
like a detective with a scalpel
digging at fears we hold in common.

— “Lies Before Retirement” by Michael Salcman, MD; published in JAMA May 4, 2021 (Volume 325, Number 17)

For other posts on poetry and health, see here.