ABRAHAM VERGHESE, M.D.
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I will never forget the face of the wizened old farmer as he stood in the rural clinic. He wore only a loincloth and carried a cane. He had been waiting patiently and now, as his turn came, he saluted me by bringing his palms together and bowing gently, his eyes lowered. It was not an obsequious gesture but a dignified salute. The clinic in India was miles from any sort of sophisticated care, my armamentarium consisted of my senses for diagnosis, and a scabicidal ointment and a plentiful supply of vitamin A and sulfa tablets for treatment. My compounder
VERGHESE A. Old Men. Ann Intern Med. 1984;101:407. doi: https://doi.org/10.7326/0003-4819-101-3-407_1
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Published: Ann Intern Med. 1984;101(3):407.
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