This hilarious anecdote appeared in our October 2004 issue and was written by Al Turner, DO, who is currently medical director of Osteopathic Advantage in Portland, Ore. He writes: “This article prompted phone calls from medical students I hadn't heard from in over 20 years who had had a good laugh. I am told that it is required reading for first-year urology residents at Oregon Health and Sciences University. For years, whenever the plumber saw me, even from half a block away, he would yell, ‘Hey, Doc, how long will it be?'”

I was a counselor before I became a physician, so I know that listening is a powerful therapeutic tool. Indeed, it may be the only one needed to relieve a patient's discomfort.

There have been times, however, when, in my uneasiness, I have anticipated the trajectory of a conversation rather than listening for where it is actually going.

In one memorable case, my 60-year-old patient was in the recovery room following a penile implant. He was a plumber. In fact, he was my plumber. He had been in my home on several occasions and even helped me when I remodeled my office. Whenever he would finish a job for me, he would joke about the fact that I had helped him with his “plumbing” when I had referred him to a urologist.

One day he came into my office and proudly announced that he was going to get a penile implant. He wanted me to be there when he “got [his] plumbing fixed.” He was quite serious, so I agreed to observe. It was a very interesting procedure, and all went as expected. Following the surgery, the urologist asked me to talk to the patient's family.

I have always enjoyed a fairly informal relationship with my patients, so I didn't anticipate a problem. The patient's wife and daughter were seated in the waiting room. After a brief discussion about the procedure, I reassured them that the surgery had gone as expected and was a complete success.

Much relieved, the plumber's wife had a question.

I listened carefully as she, somewhat nervously, asked in an uncharacteristically shy voice, “How long will it be...?” She hesitated and cleared her throat.

I jumped in, not having anticipated this degree of openness. Wanting to ease her anxiety and perhaps my own, I assured her, in a professional tone, that the surgery would not significantly change the length of her husband's penis.

She blushed, giggled, and tried again. “No, I...I mean, how long will it be before we can...?”

Again, she hesitated and cleared her throat.

This time I teased her, saying, “Oh my, you are an eager one, aren't you?” and we both laughed.

She blushed again, even more embarrassed as I confidently relayed the advice of the urologist that she and her husband should not attempt intercourse for six to eight weeks.

Finally, I listened long enough for her to get out her entire question.

This time, without hesitation and without my less-than-helpful interruptions, she said: “How long will it be before we can talk to him?”