Ritual

First you have to get through the negotiations. You introduce yourself as a student and exchange pleasantries and nervous jokes. You put on your shiniest Bedside Manner, perky and polite. Almost invariably, they consent with self-deprecating good nature. Everyone's got to learn some time, right? I'm happy to help if I can. Yes, thank you so much - I really appreciate it. If you feel uncomfortable at any time, please let me know and I'll stop. Your group and tutor are standing around you, sometimes participating in this exchange, but often just silent spectators at the show.

It's a shifting of power. Once you have given them the semblance of control, you proceed to command them to perform all sorts of bizarre manoeuvres. Could you take off your shirt, please? And would you mind if I pulled your pants down a little further? Is it ok if I put my hand here in your groin? This is someone who could be your grandmother's age, or your father's. In everyday life, you would perhaps nod at each other on a sidewalk, or if you met, you would defer to them as your elder and better. Now, circumstances have contrived that you both meet here, in this place of delicately balanced vulnerabilities. You have to get past your own anxious voices. Am I doing it wrong? Do they all think I'm a tard? Am I making it up, or do I really feel this? Am I hurting them? This is embarassing.

But when you're in the zone, when you've passed all the awkwardness and anxiety and come to focus, finally the physical examination becomes an oasis. The laying on of hands, the strict order of the tests and the calm solemnity recall the rituals of the ancients. Feel a pulse - make sure it is not your own. Put your hand on a heart. Listen. The room is quiet, the clatter of the hospital fades into the background, and all you can hear is the heart beat and breathing. A steady rhythm, almost music. One-two, one-two. It is a moment of strange intimacy.