Though he was ill and in pain,
in disobedience to the instruction he
would have received if he had asked,
the old man got up from his bed,
dressed, and went to the barn.
The bare branches of winter had emerged
through the last leaf-colors of fall,
the loveliest of all, browns and yellows
delicate and nameless in the gray light
and the sifting rain. He put feed
in the troughs for eighteen ewe lambs,
sent the dog for them, and she
brought them. They came eager
to their feed, and he who felt
their hunger was by their feeding
eased. From no place in the time
of present places, within no boundary
nameable in human thought,
they had gathered once again,
the shepherd, his sheep, and his dog
with all the known and the unknown
round about to the heavens' limit.
Was this his stubbornness or bravado?
No. Only an ordinary act
of profoundest intimacy in a day
that might have been better. Still
the world persisted in its beauty,
he in his gratitude, and for this
he had most earnestly prayed.

A man should be careful talking about mammograms. But the report issued this week by a panel of doctors who recommended less frequent testing for breast cancer in women under 50 comes as Congress and the country debate health care coverage.

Since the report came out, news accounts and blogs have featured hundreds of personal stories from women in their 40s who say—just this bluntly—that these new guidelines would have killed them by letting their cancer grow without detection.

I know enough about mammograms to know that they're not marshmallow treats. They're painful and humiliating tests that squash a woman where it hurts most. Most men—myself included; maybe even Daniel Craig included—would cringe to have a mammogram.

And when the results are what they call "false-positive," a week or more of worry and anxiety follow, along with a stinging biopsy. It's good news if nothing is found, but still a punishing experience. I can understand why a lot of women would almost welcome a medical excuse to avoid an annual mammogram.

The Washington Post ran a piece Friday by two physicians who worked with the doctor's task force. Douglas Kamerow at Georgetown University, and Steven Woolf, at Virginia Commonwealth, defended their recommendation, noting that every 1,900 screenings in women ages 39 to 49 produced just one case in which cancer was discovered and arrested.

They suggested that between bad results and biopsies, annual tests lead to a lot more worry and pain than cures. And, yes, cost a lot of money that might be directed elsewhere.

Of course: what if you are that one woman in 1,900? Or that one woman is your wife or mother? And if you screen just 1 million women between the ages of 39 and 49, statistics suggest you may catch cancer before it can grow in 526 women.

Maybe we shouldn't be shocked, shocked to think some doctors might find the chance to save one life in 1,900 to be small result for so much effort. A lot of us play with our odds of survival by smoking, overeating, or talking on the phone while driving.

People on all sides of the health care debate like to talk about how money can be saved in their particular plan by reducing the number of medical tests that seem redundant or unnecessary. This week, we may have seen what happens when someone suggests a way to actually do that. A lot of people decide they can't live with that.

Thank you, Scott.

Keeping audience attention is more important and more difficult than grabbing audience attention. A reader emailed me:

“What can I do to keep the audience’s attention through the whole of my presentation. There are always people who don’t seem to be listening.”

Seven tips from Olivia Mitchell.