I was on a ward of Johns Hopkins in Baltimore lately. A junior family members member had an appointment using a doctor there. I waited inside the day location where sufferers, medical doctors and nurses have been going about their routines.
In case you ever wondered why any person would live in Baltimore, Johns Hopkins is often a fairly very good explanation. For the 17th consecutive year, The Johns Hopkins Hospital has topped U.S. News & World Report’s annual rankings of “America’s Ideal Hospitals.”
This year they ranked number 1 overall of all hospitals in the United States and number 1 in these specialties: Urology; Gynecology; Ear, nose and throat; Rheumatology. They ranked number 2 in Psychiatry and Ophthalmology.
I have been privileged of sorts to spend years on this wing of the hospital due to another household member who was nursed back to health over a long period of time. Once in a while something simple becomes something remarkable.
What I witnessed yesterday was humanity, frailty, medicine and the Hippocratic Oath in total synergy. It was like poetry in real life. It was a form of dance that could be labeled a “pavane.” (A pavane is defined as a slow processional dance.)
The scene, a young foreign doctor, of which Hopkins has several thousand, working with an 83 year old woman confined in a wheel chair. He was taking the lady’s blood pressure. “90 over 50, that’s low. Here you put on the stethoscope and listen”. The lady had a hard time hearing her pulse coming through the instrument. “Here, you take my blood pressure” offered the doctor