Imperfect knowledge
===================

* Richard Bronson MD

*   © 2008 Canadian Medical Association

My toes wriggled, skeletal  
</br> within new shoes —  
</br> big toe, little ones —  
</br> as x-rays passed through me,  
</br> no worry of roentgens or rads.  
</br> I stepped off the pedestal, laughed,  
</br> and the shoe salesman smiled,  
</br> said “Look again, if you like,”  
</br> and we both watched  
</br> the goodness of the fit.  
</br>  

My father, a general-all-around doc,  
</br> made use of x-rays too.  
</br> How many chest films did he perform,  
</br> set fractures under fluoroscopy,  
</br> not realizing danger of overexposure,  
</br> no lead to shield his body.  
</br>  

In the end, did it matter?  
</br> Heart disease caught up with him,  
</br> his hundred-patient days,  
</br> not cancer.  
</br> After the first coronary,  
</br> his face a fractured moon,  
</br> grey within the mist  
</br> of a plastic oxygen tent,  
</br> I thought he would break apart,  
</br> never return to us.  
</br>  

Before the lethal second blow,  
</br> I saw him in the kitchen,  
</br> taking red pills from the fridge.  
</br> “Estrogen,” he said.  
</br> “They tell me it's good  
</br> for my heart.  
</br> “I'd grow breasts, if I had to.”  
</br>  

Yes, yes, I hoped then —  
</br> but now know  
</br> it wasn't so.  
</br>  

![Figure1](http://www.cmaj.ca/https://www.cmaj.ca/content/cmaj/179/6/563/F1.medium.gif)

[Figure1](http://www.cmaj.ca/content/179/6/563/F1)

Photo by: NASA P-41490


## Footnotes

*   Dr. Bronson's father, a general practitioner, was the inspiration for this poem; others are gathered in *Search for Oz* (Padishah Press).