What kind of work do you do?"

I always ask patients that question in case their condition has some bearing on work status, or vice versa.

"I'm a lawyer. You'll still see me, won't you?"

A few years ago, I would have accompanied that response with a laugh. Today, my answer would take some extra thought.

Having faced a malpractice suit, I no longer see trial lawyers as ordinary patients. They're potential enemies. I can't help thinking, He sues my colleagues for a living—I wonder if he's looking to sue me?

Some doctors do more than think such thoughts. They won't treat an attorney who takes malpractice cases. Others go so far as to advocate not treating any attorneys and see nothing wrong with that. The rationale: "If they're going to seek to harm us, we'll have nothing to do with them. Tit for tat."

And they have a point: Who wants to be subjected to a lawsuit? Who wants his family to undergo such emotional trauma? Who wants his life to be ruined by a legal system run amok? It's hard not to agree.

But, to be fair, not all the blame for the malpractice crisis can reasonably be laid at the feet of lawyers. Along with the economy, the litigious climate, and many other factors, we physicians aren't perfect.

Yet the continuous threat of a malpractice suit is causing physicians to leave the profession in droves. Just a sample of the statistics: 34 percent of doctors in Ohio expect to close their practices in the next two years if insurance rates continue to climb. Some states can't attract young physicians—less than 5 percent of Pennsylvania physicians are under 35. Nationally, more than half the physicians in the 50 to 65 age range plan either to reduce the number of patients they treat or to get out of patient care entirely.

At this rate, why would anyone want to become a physician? Who will care for patients as physicians, fed up with the legal climate, throw in the towel and retire early?

It seems a fitting comeuppance, then, for lawyers if physicians refuse to treat them. Something in me says, "Yes! Stick it to them!" But is such an attitude right?

"Love your enemies," "Do good to those who hate you," "Bless those who curse you," "Pray for those who mistreat you"—all these injunctions may be hard to live by, but they're compelling. They're more than warm fuzzy sentiments. They go to the heart of our being and our ethical system.

How we act and how we respond largely determine who we are. If we nurture hatred within us, we lower ourselves and become less than human. If we force ourselves to love and do good, we take the high moral road and enrich ourselves as humans.

While it might not be a bad idea from one perspective to give trial attorneys a taste of life without physicians, surely we have a higher calling—to practice in "purity and holiness," as the original Hippocratic oath says, or with "uprightness and honor" as in "A Physician's Oath," used by some med schools today. It's risky, but the sick need the benefit of our art and practice. We're used to caring for the unwanted and unlovable no matter what their lifestyle or profession, including trial lawyers.

So if a lawyer comes into my office, will I see him? Yes, but you can be sure that I'll be extra doggone careful.