poem

 SurgeonsThere are two kinds of surgeonsThose who say “cut to cure”And the ones who prefer “heal with cold steel”The difference between them is dispositionalOne brings the cheese to the crackerAnd the other the cracker to the cheeseOne cuts the Swiss so thin You could use it as a shroudThe other shreds a hunk of mozzarellaLike a woodsman whittling at a walking stick One sayswho cut the cheese?When he smells flatus To make his kids laughThe other one rolls his eyesWhile spreading Camembert Across a toasted bone.They are also very much alikeBoth will end up divorced 17 timesAnd all aloneBoth have a soft spotFor self estrangementBoth “forget” to lock the front doorOut of respect for the karmicSpirit of surgical misadventures,In case she decides one nightTo visit him while he sleepsAnd cut his throat.There is a third kind of surgeonThe one who says “Never let the skin standBetween you and the diagnosis ”This one is a real bastardHe drives a BentleyAnd stiffs the caddy at the club.Your job is to choose the surgeon Who always finds the lost ball in the woods  He never says anything except “I got it” 7/1/23

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - July 1, 2023 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs