He sat right there, in the patient’s chair

I sat on my stool

Asked all the questions that we were taught to in school

But open-ended was getting us nowhere

All the guy would seem to say were his self-diagnoses 

And symptoms of “you know”

Maybe I’ve always been lonely or inexperienced 

I had to tell him, “No, sir, I don’t know. You have to explain

I cannot read your brain

I haven’t felt what you’re feeling”
His tangential words left me reeling 

Was it vertigo? Neck pain? Stroke? 

I didn’t know 

He talked of the room moving 

Of the crick in his neck 

But his speech was clear and movements were coordinated

I thought, “What the heck?”

We ordered the tests we could 

He just couldn’t elaborate like I hoped someone in his seat would

This was ambulatory care 

But his discourse couldn’t get us anywhere 

I was frustrated 

He waited 

Like patients do 

I told him after the exam, “Your treatment, sir, is to write me a story about your symptoms, how you feel, when it all started, how it’s shifted, what’s your deal

Limit it to four sentences”
I felt better at this 

Before he left, he told me, “And doc, for your penitence, before the next appointment begins, please find a way to ask me more pinpoint questions”