A Physician's Prayer

As I sit down to drink coffee tomarrow morning and type away at the computer, I will do something quite uncomfortable for a non religious person.

I will pray.

I will pray that my children make it safely to school

That the weather is good and the sidewalks are not slick.

That their feet will be steady and their minds alert to the dangers that lurk in any suburban neighborhood.

That my wife will have an excellent day.

That she will face the uncertainties of being a mother and a professional with her usual grace and certitude.

I will pray that I am a humble physician.

That I will be a beacon of strength and hope to those who choose to walk through my door.

That I will garner the right mix of compassion and authority to guide those who seek answers. Mourn with those who receive them, and rejoice in the human condition.

I will pray that the EMR upgrade in my office will be flawless.

That the new platform is indeed a major improvement and not just another money maker for some corporation.

That the emotional distance placed by increasingly complex computer systems will melt away as does the physical distance when I reach for my stehoscope.

That the creators of HIPAA will turn their heads as I sneak out of the exam room in order to ask a trainer the correct way to enter "hemorrhoidectomy" .

That the patients hue of crimson, as they walk past the trainers desk and towards the checkout counter, will be short lived.

I will pray that this government has been wise.

That penalizing me for not checking off the "race" box on the EMR will indeed be the one missing ingredient that will help mollify the pain of the patient with chronic pancreatitis.

Or stem the the sadness of the family watching their loved one fade away from Alzheimers.

I will pray because it seems that this space we call healthcare has denigrated from rational debate and scientific method to an orgy of magical thinking.

And I want to make sure the central authority knows not to penalize me.

That I'm on board.