Portrait of an Emergency Doctor

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[Ann Emerg Med. 2010;55:301.]

We laughed at Father's sentimental side,

We children, who loved him and books he read

To us, stories, poems, the words he said,

But is was still amusing when he cried

At minor scenes (it seemed) where no one died,

Yet made perhaps some little sacrifice

Or cracked a joke when Fate misrolled the dice.

His fragile nature, Dad could never hide.

At the hospital once—and I was there,

An accident brought five children in,

And after all the tumult and the din

Of striving, three were dead and two were fair.

And the doctor, Dad, never turned a hair,

Went to the families, gave what little balm

Existed yet to re-establish calm.

His grief was great I know, for I was there.

“All right: who's next to see?” he asked the clerk,

Fixed his smile, went onward with his work.