Then I offered a poem by Mary Dowd, MD, from The Permanente Journal, Fall 2008. 12 (4):
The door clangs shut.
All eyes turn toward the diversion.
The nurse and I walk in,
two little female sticks,
bobbing in a sea of men.
The room is large, but small,
dimly lit, swarming
with elbows, feet, faces
dozens of men
in orange scrubs
talking, joking
shoving, pushing
pacing, roaming.
The ceiling is high, but low,