Chinese diagnostic doll. (Photo by Beverly Stock)A Poem on Chinese Diagnostic Dolls, by Beverly Stock The Society September 5, 2019 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 2 Comments Anonymous Diagnosis In ancient China, a sense of propriety did not allow women of high social status, and women in general, to expose any part of their bodies to a male physician. A woman suffering an ailment could only point to an anatomical doll to show the area of the pain and have their pulses read. Her culture dictates that she cannot reveal, Merely demonstrate any pain she might feel. Exams not allowed for she ranks as elite, Thus physical contact is deemed indiscreet. Defining the palpable pain that she bares, She marks a bone figure, to indicate where A broken rib hurts or a failing heart lies; Anatomical marks on the doll that belies. She passes the doll to a waiting maid’s hand, Who passes it through shrouds and thereby remands, This “proof” to a doctor a few steps away, To diagnose pain that’s obscurely portrayed. Is taking a pulse then just a placebo, A string round her wrist, gauging pulse incognito? Is distress, quanshen fali, a weakness of sorts, A sense of malaise found in souls and in hearts? The patient’s good modesty staying secure When probe nor palpation can touch the demure. Though pain may remain a medical mystery, The treatment is beautiful, medical frippery! quanshen fali: malaise ©2019 Beverly Stock Beverly Stock is a poet living in St. Louis, Missouri. Visit www.beverlystockpoetry.com for more of her poetry. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 2 Responses Dave September 6, 2019 Clever and interesting poem. Reply Sally Cook September 17, 2019 I truly enjoyed your poem. I own a diagnostic doll – she is a tiny thing, about five inches in length, and rests on a tiny free-standing couch. When I bought it, I recall seeing one 12 in length. Use of the diagnostic doll reminds me of Emily Dickinson, who stood in a lighted area behind a sheet. That was as much as the doctor was allowed to see. Looking forward to seeing more of your work. Reply Leave a Reply to Sally Cook Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.