The leeches are being applied to his flap repair as weenter.We were not able to save his tongueand the partial closure oozes blood from chin to navel.Yet, despite the swelling and the recently re-created lips,we discern a smileand he scrawls on the whiteboard:“Good morning! How are you today?”

Count backwards from 99struggle to stay awakeRattle and shakeAgainst propofolExcuses for where the missiles fallCareful the slogans you useAnd the patients you chooseTo advocate for.Forget what you swore.Some harm is fineIf they’ve committed the crimeOf being born on the wrong side of the fence.

You are entering the medical record of a deceasedpatient.Are you sure you want to proceed?Click OKDid you know we gray-out the patient photo?When you publish this chart reviewAnd you tack first author to your nameWe will stand behind you at your TriumphAnd whisper into your ear:Remember…

I started losing hair when I was 17.Ten years, a thousand doses of minoxidiland a single moment of acceptance with a razor in handlater,I walk in, bald, with a pamphlet on alopecia areataas you stare at the floor with tear-stained cheeks.You look up at me and grin,“Nice haircut.”