Listen

Its a usual scene. Patient starts a long winded story about the vague pain in her tummy and ill defined weakness and then the tingling she feels in her fingertips and then the swelling in her hands and feet. We listen, carefully filtering out the bits we need to put together a passable and plausible diagnosis and forget the rest. In the beginning, we listen: carefully, silently and a little anxiously. Not wanting to miss a single clue hidden in that long history. Then, eventually, one look and the opening line of the story tells us all that is worth knowing. We attack the prescription and fill it with pills of various shapes and sizes, and summon the next in line.
Slowly, we forget what it is like to listen. We stop listening, first to our patients, then to others around us. Our world shrinks so much that it contains only us. We cannot talk or think of anything or anyone beyond our grand selves. How we put in long hours and toiled to become the great doctors that we are. How no one understands how difficult our lives are compared to those of lesser mortals.
Eventually, we stop listening to ourselves. We go about life, like automatons. Hearing just enough to keep us going through the rut of diagnosis and treatment. Never stopping to listen. Never waiting to listen.
The word SILENT, contains the same letters as LISTEN. It would do us a lot of good  if we sometimes listen, not with the intent of diagnosing or replying, but only with the intent of understanding. Because, as the saying goes, knowledge speaks;but wisdom listens.