An Honor and a Privilege

At the risk of sounding pompous and self-important, I am a keeper of an ancient and sacred art.

I am bound by an oath that is thousands of years old.

I have heard your most intimate secrets, secrets that no one else in the world knows. I have seen you cry as you've confronted your greatest fears. I know more about your bowel movements than any normal person ought to. I have seen you naked but our relationship is professional. I have touched your body in ways that that would result in any other person landing in jail. I know things about you that you don't. And I just met you ten minutes ago.

I shroud myself with the cloak of science. My stethoscope and hammer are my trusty companions. My white coat, with grime on the collar and sleeves, is my badge of honor. But it's a keen ear that is my most powerful tool. My weapons are diuretics and antibiotics.

I am expected to cure your ailments but you will most likely get better or worse no matter what I do. Truth be told, I am not that different from a sorcerer: standing over you reciting Latin and Greek and giving the impression of power while I let nature take its course.

I am a healer. I am your servant.