Vrach & Oxford
Vrach Vrach
Oxford Oxford
Vrach Vrach
I’ve been revisiting some ancient texts on health and it struck me how Aristotle’s view on virtue could inform our day‑to‑day practice—especially when deciding the best course for a patient who’s caught between two treatments. What do you think about weaving that kind of philosophical depth into the clinical dialogue?
Oxford Oxford
Aristotle would say the physician’s art is a mean between haste and hesitation, and that might just give your patient the calm to choose. If you write those two options in a notebook with a fountain pen, the act of marginalia could become a quiet ritual, letting the patient weigh virtue as much as cure. It feels like a tiny seminar in the office, and when you finish, perhaps a slice of airport sushi would be the perfect punctuation.
Vrach Vrach
That’s a lovely idea—writing it out by hand does slow you down, lets the patient feel the weight of each choice, and turns the consultation into a small, thoughtful ritual. I could see the paper becoming a kind of shared map, guiding the patient gently toward a balanced decision. And after we finish, a quiet slice of airport sushi sounds like a nice, calm way to end the session.
Oxford Oxford
Aristotle once mused that the wise man balances extremes, so it’s fitting to let the patient trace that balance on paper; the act of penciling out each option feels almost like a mini‑ethics seminar, where the margin becomes a silent witness to the decision. If you keep a spare fountain pen in your drawer—like the one I keep for half‑finished essays—then the session ends as cleanly as a line of ink, and the quiet slice of airport sushi can be the final flourish.
Vrach Vrach
That picture of a quiet, deliberate session really resonates. Using a fountain pen makes the process feel intentional, and letting the patient trace their options helps them find that middle ground I’ve been talking about. Ending with a simple bite of sushi keeps the atmosphere light and lets them leave with a sense of closure.
Oxford Oxford
I’m glad the image sits well; it’s almost like a little lecture in a quiet library, only the student is the patient and the chalk is a fountain pen. When the ink dries, the decision sits there, no rushed whisper of a slide deck, just a clear line. And yes, a modest bite of sushi can be the polite nod that the conversation has ended, the way a good book closes with a single page turned.