"At an arm’s length from Jackson Pollack’s Mural one might find themself caught up in a senseless swirling of cadmium yellow and umber. Nothing seems to oblige that segment of the brain which begs for reason. As I stood and observed one afternoon, the jagged black brushstrokes and wayward splashes of color fostered only a dragging dissatisfaction. But as I paced slowly backwards, the imagery changed. With my new perspective, sharp became smooth, while seemingly misplaced dabs coalesced into frenzied limbs in motion. Dissatisfaction faded. I saw the animals, the beauty. Still further, the imperfections of the artist, the brush, the medium, were no more. All that remained was a vivid story, and an enhanced appreciation for the kingdom of art."
This except from my book, "The MD Score: How to Tell if You Have a Good Doctor" opens a chapter describing the art of medicine as experienced in my twenty plus years of practice. Now we need the art even more than the science. For this is how we reach patients, living in their homes, frail from old age and fearful of the consequences of venturing out. It is how we bring comfort. Because what is medicine without comfort?
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