M. Leblanc was a retired baker, 68 years old, admitted for “general weakness.” His chart was thin—some anemia, mild hypertension, fatigue. The residents had labeled him “non-specific symptoms,” a dreaded phrase that meant we don’t know . Clara was assigned to take a history.
That night, Clara sat in the call room and opened her semiology textbook. The chapter on “Asymmetric Motor Deficits” felt different now. The diagrams were no longer just lines and labels. They were M. Leblanc’s drifting arm, his curled fingers, the silence between his words. Semiologie medicale- L-apprentissage pratique d...
Her first clinical rotation was in the old pavilion of Hôpital Saint-Luc, a place where the walls smelled of antiseptic and secrets. Her supervisor, Dr. Marc Rivière, was a legend in internal medicine—not because of his research, but because of his hands. Students whispered that he could walk into a room, shake a patient’s hand, and leave with a diagnosis. Clara was assigned to take a history
Dr. Rivière set down his cup. He walked with her to Room 12, said nothing, and simply watched M. Leblanc for a full minute. Then he asked one question: “Have you fallen lately, even a little?” The diagrams were no longer just lines and labels
A Story of Learning to See What Others Overlook
The baker hesitated. “Well… three weeks ago, I tripped on the rug. Hit my head on the nightstand. But I didn’t lose consciousness. Didn’t seem worth mentioning.”
She looked at his face. The nasolabial fold was slightly flattened on the left. “Have you noticed any trouble smiling?” she asked.