The desk

Recently, Dr. Jeffrey Benabio (I don’t believe we’ve ever met), wrote an enjoyable commentary mourning the loss of letters – the wonderful paper-and-pen documents that were, for the vast majority of human history, the main method of long distance communication. Even today, he notes, there’s something special about a letter, with the time and human effort required to sit down and put pen to paper, seal it into an envelope, and entrust it to the post office.

In his piece, Dr. Benabio describes his work desk as “a small surface, perhaps just enough for the monitor and a mug ... it has no drawers. It is lean and immaculate, but it has no soul.”

With all due respect, I can’t do that. I need a desk to function. A REAL one.

I was 9 when I got my first desk, far more than a 4th-grader needed. My dad was an attorney and had an extra desk from a partner who’d retired. It was big and heavy and made of wood. It had three drawers on each side, one in the middle, and pull-outs on each side in case you needed even more writing space. I loved it. As the years went by I did homework, wrote short stories, and built models on it. I covered the pull-outs with stickers for starship controls, so on a whim I could jump to hyperspace. In 1984 a brand-new Apple Macintosh, with 128K of RAM showed up on it. I began using the computer to write college papers, but most of my work at the desk still involved books and handwriting.

My current home desk has been with me through college, medical school, residency, and fellowship, and it continues with me today.

At my office, though, is my main desk. Before 2013 I was in a small back office, with only room for a tiny three-drawer college desk.

But in 2013 I moved into my own office, for the first time in my career. Now it was time to bring in my real desk, waiting in storage since my Dad had retired.

Dr. Allan M. Block

This is my desk now. It’s huge. It’s heavy. My dad bought it when he started his law practice in 1968. It has eight drawers, and my Dad’s original leather blotter is on top. It came with his chrome and brass letter opener in the top drawer. It has space for my computer, writing pads, exam tools (for people who can’t get on the exam table across the hall), business cards, a few baubles from my kids, stapler, tape dispenser, pen cup, phone, coffee mug, and a million other things.

It takes up a lot of space, but I don’t mind. There’s a human comfort to it and the organized disorder on top of it. I’d much rather have my patients and I talk while sitting across my desk, in comfortable chairs, then in a sterile exam room with them on the exam table and me on a rolling chair trying to balance an iPad on my lap.

Everyone practices medicine differently. What works for me isn’t going to work for another doctor, and definitely not for another specialty.

But here, the big desk is part of my personal style. Sitting there gets me into “doctor mode” each day. I hope the more casual surroundings make it comfortable for patients, too.

It’s part of the soul of my practice, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Recently, Dr. Jeffrey Benabio (I don’t believe we’ve ever met), wrote an enjoyable commentary mourning the loss of letters – the wonderful paper-and-pen documents that were, for the vast majority of human history, the main method of long distance communication. Even today, he notes, there’s something special about a letter, with the time and human effort required to sit down and put pen to paper, seal it into an envelope, and entrust it to the post office.

In his piece, Dr. Benabio describes his work desk as “a small surface, perhaps just enough for the monitor and a mug ... it has no drawers. It is lean and immaculate, but it has no soul.”

With all due respect, I can’t do that. I need a desk to function. A REAL one.

I was 9 when I got my first desk, far more than a 4th-grader needed. My dad was an attorney and had an extra desk from a partner who’d retired. It was big and heavy and made of wood. It had three drawers on each side, one in the middle, and pull-outs on each side in case you needed even more writing space. I loved it. As the years went by I did homework, wrote short stories, and built models on it. I covered the pull-outs with stickers for starship controls, so on a whim I could jump to hyperspace. In 1984 a brand-new Apple Macintosh, with 128K of RAM showed up on it. I began using the computer to write college papers, but most of my work at the desk still involved books and handwriting.

My current home desk has been with me through college, medical school, residency, and fellowship, and it continues with me today.

At my office, though, is my main desk. Before 2013 I was in a small back office, with only room for a tiny three-drawer college desk.

But in 2013 I moved into my own office, for the first time in my career. Now it was time to bring in my real desk, waiting in storage since my Dad had retired.

Dr. Allan M. Block

This is my desk now. It’s huge. It’s heavy. My dad bought it when he started his law practice in 1968. It has eight drawers, and my Dad’s original leather blotter is on top. It came with his chrome and brass letter opener in the top drawer. It has space for my computer, writing pads, exam tools (for people who can’t get on the exam table across the hall), business cards, a few baubles from my kids, stapler, tape dispenser, pen cup, phone, coffee mug, and a million other things.

It takes up a lot of space, but I don’t mind. There’s a human comfort to it and the organized disorder on top of it. I’d much rather have my patients and I talk while sitting across my desk, in comfortable chairs, then in a sterile exam room with them on the exam table and me on a rolling chair trying to balance an iPad on my lap.

Everyone practices medicine differently. What works for me isn’t going to work for another doctor, and definitely not for another specialty.

But here, the big desk is part of my personal style. Sitting there gets me into “doctor mode” each day. I hope the more casual surroundings make it comfortable for patients, too.

It’s part of the soul of my practice, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Recently, Dr. Jeffrey Benabio (I don’t believe we’ve ever met), wrote an enjoyable commentary mourning the loss of letters – the wonderful paper-and-pen documents that were, for the vast majority of human history, the main method of long distance communication. Even today, he notes, there’s something special about a letter, with the time and human effort required to sit down and put pen to paper, seal it into an envelope, and entrust it to the post office.

In his piece, Dr. Benabio describes his work desk as “a small surface, perhaps just enough for the monitor and a mug ... it has no drawers. It is lean and immaculate, but it has no soul.”

With all due respect, I can’t do that. I need a desk to function. A REAL one.

I was 9 when I got my first desk, far more than a 4th-grader needed. My dad was an attorney and had an extra desk from a partner who’d retired. It was big and heavy and made of wood. It had three drawers on each side, one in the middle, and pull-outs on each side in case you needed even more writing space. I loved it. As the years went by I did homework, wrote short stories, and built models on it. I covered the pull-outs with stickers for starship controls, so on a whim I could jump to hyperspace. In 1984 a brand-new Apple Macintosh, with 128K of RAM showed up on it. I began using the computer to write college papers, but most of my work at the desk still involved books and handwriting.

My current home desk has been with me through college, medical school, residency, and fellowship, and it continues with me today.

At my office, though, is my main desk. Before 2013 I was in a small back office, with only room for a tiny three-drawer college desk.

But in 2013 I moved into my own office, for the first time in my career. Now it was time to bring in my real desk, waiting in storage since my Dad had retired.

Dr. Allan M. Block

This is my desk now. It’s huge. It’s heavy. My dad bought it when he started his law practice in 1968. It has eight drawers, and my Dad’s original leather blotter is on top. It came with his chrome and brass letter opener in the top drawer. It has space for my computer, writing pads, exam tools (for people who can’t get on the exam table across the hall), business cards, a few baubles from my kids, stapler, tape dispenser, pen cup, phone, coffee mug, and a million other things.

It takes up a lot of space, but I don’t mind. There’s a human comfort to it and the organized disorder on top of it. I’d much rather have my patients and I talk while sitting across my desk, in comfortable chairs, then in a sterile exam room with them on the exam table and me on a rolling chair trying to balance an iPad on my lap.

Everyone practices medicine differently. What works for me isn’t going to work for another doctor, and definitely not for another specialty.

But here, the big desk is part of my personal style. Sitting there gets me into “doctor mode” each day. I hope the more casual surroundings make it comfortable for patients, too.

It’s part of the soul of my practice, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.