The lady in cubicle B
Leaned forward and whispered to me
Averting my eye, I adjusted my tie
And pretended I just didn't see

Her voice, though, continued to sound
She asked what the surgeon had found
I hedged at the task and suggested she ask
The consultant that day on the round

The surgeon arrived (on short fuse)
And loudly expounded his views
While all of his minions' consensus opinions
Agreed 'She won't handle the news'

The dismal prognosis was known
The husband was filled in (by phone)
I wasn't surprised when he promptly advised
That the words were for his ears alone

He boldly then bottled his grief
The patient expressed her relief
And we who had lied, till the day that she died
Made sure that our visits were brief