© 2003 BMJ Publishing Group Ltd. & Association of Clinical Pathologists
A poem for pathology
Winds of change
St Johns Medical College, 428, 7th Cross, 1st Block, Jayanagar, Bangalore 560 011, India; rajtiru@hotmail.com
| The first 150 words of the full text of this article appear below. |
There once lived a pathologist by name Joe Pearson,
Like the back of his hand, he knew every lesion.
He knew them all; hed seen them all,
A great teacher, his students hed enthrall.
"REAL" lymphomas to "pseudo" tumours he was the master,
There was no man who could be faster.
Our good old man had but one vice,
That hed firmly shut his minds eyes.
Never a new thought could he entertain,
The winds of changehe treated with disdain.
Stagnant and resistant, the frog-in-a-well,
Till one day, the curtain of wax fell.
Hed made a mistake, which was certainly fatal
putting a newborn through the gates of hell;
He was left a loner in his ivory tower,
Deprived of his glory, shorn of his power.
His work of a lifetime stood by him no more,
cos hed refused to learn and hed chosen to ignore.
A heavy price he. . . [Full text of this article]
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