The Saturday Evening Post

The Power of Touch

I have been a physician for decades, treating many, many patients under many different circumstances. But the case of Mr. Danska, which was only a short-term relationship, just a one-night stand, was the one that got me thinking about how medicine is not only a craft and a science but also an art. That it has something unexplainable about it, which is its heart.

It started one night when I was on call for the ICU, resting in the tiny airless call room reserved for the senior medical resident. I was lying on the bed, eyes closed. It was only 9 p.m., but I’d learned to take my rest when I could get it. My beeper went off. It was the ER. There was an admission for me — a 42-year-old guy having a massive heart attack.

I left the call room, went downstairs, and found Mr. Danska lying on a gurney in the hallway with his head elevated.

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