Best 180 quotes in «doctor quotes» category

As a resident, my highest ideal was not saving lives -- everyone dies eventually -- but guiding a patient or family to an understanding of death or illness.

Astronomy management teams not informing me about the range of sickness that High Altitude Observatory Disease (HAOD) causes put my doctors in a land of misdiagnosis.

Be aware of the whole domain of sickness - be aware of its implications in human life - be aware of its farthest reach in the life of the patient as well as the lives of the next of kin - be aware of its deepest roots, for that very awareness is the very foundation of true diagnosis, which automatically brings along the awareness of wellness.

As good surgical doctor works on a patient in the theater with varied kinds of surgical instruments, so a true leader also needs a clean bag of leadership characters that vary from task to task. One-way leaders are obvious failures!

As her body empties, I feel more and more hollow. I think I must offer her some explanation, but when I look to her face, there is clear and perfect water swirling from her open mouth, a question in a language I cannot comprehend.

As for the prayers, I suppose they can’t hurt. I’ve never found much good in them, I’ll confess that here, though I keep such thoughts private when in public company. Who would confide in a physician who claimed no affiliation with God? I still must feed myself, and keep my house. I still need my patients. But too many people believe with too much conviction in what amounts to, at best, a superstition. I’ve seen science change a patient’s diagnosis, but I’ve never heard a prayer that changed God’s mind about a damn thing..

Childbirth is normal until proven otherwise.

Being a doctor, you are not supposed to give vent to any signs of revulsion on encountering the most noxious of odours or the most gruesome of sights.

Being a doctor, is not simply about having an understanding of anatomy and sickness, rather it is about having an understanding of true wellness and more importantly, it is about understanding the intensity of the concern of the patient’s next of kin.

Being a doctor is unlike any other profession on earth. Being a doctor is the closest real thing that we can have on earth to being a God with the power to sustain life. Gods are imaginary, but Doctors are not. They are actual living beings on earth, with the actual expertise of giving life to others.

David clinks his wineglass to mine and smiles at me. You know what? Without the parsley there to distract you, it's quite a smile. It's bright white and streamlined. His face is handsome in a conventional way, all cheekbones and angles. He's not so attractive that you'd stop traffic to look at him. But neither am I. He's just a humbly good-looking guy. Like, if he were the new doctor in a small town in the Midwest, all the local women would schedule an appointment. He's that kind of attractive. His glasses sit comfortably on his nose, as if they have earned the right to be there.

Doctors were allergic to the smell of death. Death meant failure, defeat--their death, the death of medicine, the death of oncology.

Describing the USA health care system as mediocre is being generous.

Does it give you deja voodoo how alike the houses are?" "That's deja vu, and I hate you right now." "For narcing on you to your mom? Wait until you hear what I tell your dad." From the sly grin on his face, she knew what he was thinking. "Don't you even think about it." "I could tell him about the time we-" "Hell, no.

Demonisk er bare noe sludder jeg fant for å berge livet i ham. Hadde jeg ikke så gjort, hadde det stakkars svinet bukket under i selvforakt og fortvilelse for mange herrens år siden.

Failing to listen to the woman is one of the biggest mistakes a practitioner can make.

Do not trust the medical profession.

Geronimo!

Hakuna daktari anayeweza kuponya saikolojia ya mtu. Saikolojia ya mtu huponywa na mtu mwenyewe; nje ya ufahamu wa kawaida.

For a patient to be fully treated by a doctor, the patient must be willing to put all psychological guards down and be vulnerable. And this can only happen if the patient can trust the doctor, and this trust can only be induced through the release of oxytocin, which can only be triggered in the patient's brain by the will of a doctor with a genuine act of kindness on the doctor's part.

Her soft lips met mine over and over, scorching my soul as she gradually pulled back. "If I had known werewolves were such great kissers, I would've found one much sooner.

He’s dying!’ Doctor Cove, one of the ship’s two medical officers told me, looking at his med-scanner as he kneeled at the broken body of the only living Corsair on the black ship. I remember the look on his face as he told me – which seemed more to be puzzlement than actual concern. The man was a Corsair after all, and had injuries I could see, but he was conscious, and none of them looked fatal. But then, I’m no doctor. I never was any good at healing anything – and my job was doing the opposite, and I admit I’m pretty good at it. Always have been.

How grand, to be a Doctor of whatever and to weigh up and decide people's future.

How tiring is residency? So tiring. When Jude and I went out to eat, I avoided ordering salad; I didn't have the energy to chew that much.

Having researched human health, I think that doctors were far smarter fifty years ago than today.

He rested his head on top of mine and whispered, "I'm warning you now. I'm a horrible patient." I smiled in spite of myself and pulled back. "Of course you are. That's why you're a doctor.

Huwezi kuwa na mwalimu mzuri bila daktari mzuri, na huwezi kuwa na daktari mzuri bila mwalimu mzuri.

Hunger gives flavour to the food.

How's the blood-stream, my dear, invaluable little woman? How's the blood-stream?"... "It's quite comfortable, sir...I think, sir, thank you."... "Aha!"..."a comfortable stream, is it? Aha! v-e-r-y good. V-e-r-y good. Dawdling 'twixt hill and hill, no doubt. Meandering through groves of bone, threading the tissues and giving what sustenance it can to your dear old body...I am so glad. But in yourself - right deep down in yourself - how do you feel? Carnally speaking, are you at peace - from the dear grey hairs of your head to the patter of your little feet - are you at peace?" "What does he mean, dear?" said poor Mrs. Slagg, clutching Fuschia's arm.... "He wants to know if you feel well or not.

Hva ville det egentlig si å være sinnssyk? Man kunne jo glatt vekk kalle hinannens særegenheter og mer eller mindre brysomme eiendommeligheter for sinnssykdom. Hvem kun hindre det? Én hadde aversjon for katter, en annen var ikke til å bevege til å foreta seg noe på en mandag, en tredje gikk ikke i seng uten først å sette skoene baklengs foran sovekammerdøren, en fjerde trodde på drømmer og lot seg påvirke av dem, en femte hadde talt med hedenfarne ånder og visste at han efter døden skulle komme i den niende himmel, en sjette hadde hatt en åpenbaring av apostelen Petrus, og av ham fått malt til å helbrede sykdommer ved håndspåleggelse, en syvende ble søvnløs av gremmelse over ikke å kunne få sitt arbeide til, en åttende følte seg så uskikket for jordelivet at han foretrakk godvillig å absentere seg, en niende hadde dårlig mave, og var som følge av det umulig å omgåes, en tiende drakk og foretok seg i fullskap de merkeligste og avskyeligste ting, en ellevte hadde motbydelighet for det annet kjønn, en tolvte kunne ikke tåle synet av barn, en trettende fikk stivkrampe når han kom i nærheten av rotter og mus, en fjortende var stormannsgal og bilte seg inn at han visste til punkt og prikke hva som skulle kalles sinnssykdom og hva ikke, og så fremdeles i det uendelige.

I am not a doctor,' I replied, 'I only help those who come to me in desperation. When a man is brought to me naked I do not know his race or allegiance. I will treat the sick, and if you do not allow me to do so, then I will treat no one.

I am not a pediatrician… or a doctor… but too much being nice is another sign mutated and defected genes.

I am a physician, and as a consequence I see things most clearly in medical terms. I am arguing that we need an immunization program, one that injects people with respect, dignity, and equality. One that inoculates them against hatred.

If you put your faith in the modern health care system, then there is a very good chance that they will prematurely kill you.

If your doctor relies on blood and urine tests to diagnose and treat you, then you could be in serious trouble.

I can't see the logic in medicating a grieving person like there was something wrong with her, and yet it happens all the time... you go to the doctor with symptoms of profound grief and they push an antidepressant at you. We need to walk through our grief, not medicate it and shove it under the carpet like it wasn't there.

If you won't get your hands dirty, Doctor, we'll have to force you to get them dirty.

I’m now ‘Doctor’ to the patients and I have to cover my ignorance by waving my arms and looking grave.

I have every expectation that naturopathic doctors that recommend supplements will take over from expensive conventional healthcare that relies on costly pharmaceutical prescriptions.

I'm taking inorganic chem and physics not because I want to but because I have to. Not every doctor wants to be a scientist. Some of us just want to take care of sick people. I can't help thinking that medicine is more closely aligned to the humanities than to the sciences. I can't help thinking that I could learn more about being a good doctor from William Shakespeare than I could from Isaac Newton. After all, isn't understanding people at least as important as understanding pathology?

It is unfortunate that the modern healthcare system has devolved into a mass production line of sickened people attending very short appointments with overworked doctors that are delivering substandard care that is influenced by drug companies.

It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love. Dr. Juvenal Urbino noticed is as soon as he entered the still darkened house where he has hurried on an urgent call to attend a case that for him had lost all urgency many years before. The Antillean refugee Jeremiah de Saint-Amour, disabled war veteran, photographer of children, and his most sympathetic opponent in chess, had escaped the torments of memory with the aromatic fumes of gold cyanide.

I was temperamentally better suited to a cognitive discipline, to an introspective field—internal medicine, or perhaps psychiatry. The sight of the operating theater made me sweat. The idea of holding a scalpel caused coils to form in my belly. (It still does.) Surgery was the most difficult thing I could imagine. And so I became a surgeon.

Love is a chemical reaction, But it cannot be fully understood or defined by science. And though a body cannot exist without a soul, It too cannot be fully understood or defined by science. Love is the most powerful form of energy, But science cannot decipher its elements. Yet the best cure for a sick soul is love, But even the most advanced physician Cannot prescribe it as medicine. INCOMPLETE SCIENCE by Suzy Kassem

Lying there in silence, Elim thought about how quickly a person’s fate could change, how precious life and health are. He had walked into this very room two days ago as a practicing physician, a man in control, with the power to heal, looking down on the sick American on the same bed where he himself now lay. He had never known just how different the world looked from the other side. He vowed that if he became well, he would cherish every day. And although he had never wished ill health on another person, there and then he wondered if every physician might benefit from being sick—really sick—just once. He wondered if it would make them all care a little more, or work a little harder, to have been on the other side for a while—to have placed their life and livelihood in the hands of a stranger, even if for only a short period. He had considered himself a very conscientious physician before this, but he imagined that if he lived, he would be even more dedicated to his patients. Staring at the ceiling, he was reminded of an old Indian proverb: A healthy person has a hundred wishes, but a sick person has only one.

I'll tell you one thing. Being with you keeps a girl fit.' The Doctor beamed breathlessly at her. 'Fun to be with and good for you. Gotta be just what the doctor ordered.

In the two decades since starting at medical school, I have never heard the word 'identity' spoken. Grand rounds, the very heartbeat of medical learning, are not a place for philosophical musings or profound emotional questions. Diagnostic labels gathered there speak more to the patient and less to the person. We talk about loss of blood and loss of lung function but we do not contemplate the loss of person and the loss of self.

In the spring of 2009, I was the 217th person ever to be diagnosed with anti-NMDA-receptor autoimmune encephalitis. Just a year later, that figure had doubled. Now the number is in the thousands. Yet Dr. Bailey, considered one of the best neurologists in the country, had never heard of it. When we live in a time when the rate of misdiagnoses has shown no improvement since the 1930s, the lesson here is that it’s important to always get a second opinion. While he may be an excellent doctor in many respects, Dr. Bailey is also, in some ways, a perfect example of what is wrong with medicine. I was just a number to him (and if he saw thirty-five patients a day, as he told me, that means I was one of a very large number). He is a by-product of a defective system that forces neurologists to spend five minutes with X number of patients a day to maintain their bottom line. It’s a bad system. Dr. Bailey is not the exception to the rule. He is the rule.

In younger years, he’d wonder whether he was more doctor or writer. Since the dark period back home, he questioned if he was really either—witnessing death all around him had robbed him of both.

I pressed my lips together, trying to find a safe place to focus my attention. He filled the entire shower stall, his skin clean and wet, every part of him chiseled. His gym shorts clung to a package I had no business noticing.