In realms where air meets flesh and bone,
The pulmonologist claims their throne.
A guardian of breath’s subtle thread,
Through labyrinths where life is fed.
They face the storms in lungs confined,
Where COPD leaves scars unkind.
The wheeze of asthma, tight and raw,
Commands their care, precise and awe.
Through shadowed depths where sickness dwells,
Pneumonia whispers fevered spells.
Tuberculosis hides its trace,
A phantom war in lung’s embrace.
Cancer’s shadow, fierce and grim,
They battle with resolve and vim.
Pulmonary fibrosis, tissue tight,
They strive to bring it back to light.
For sleep apnea’s restless fight,
They craft machines to guard the night.
In hypertension’s cruel ascent,
They chart a course for lungs’ relent.
Interstitial paths they trace,
In search of space, of healing grace.
For cystic fibrosis, young hearts fight,
They champion hope, igniting light.
Bronchoscopes in steady hands,
They navigate life’s fragile strands.
Ventilators hum like tireless tunes,
In ICUs where hope communes.
With every test, each breath they chart,
They heal the lungs, and mend the heart.
Through airways vast and mysteries wide,
The pulmonologist stands as guide.
