First Words
…thoughts of an anachronistic, solo pediatrician
by Glenn Feole, M.D.
"Be careful too that the reading of your story makes the melancholy
laugh and the merry laugh louder," Cervantes, Prologue to Don Quixote
Contact: ishmaelish36@gmail.com
Blog site: ishmaelish36.blogspot.com
June 25, 2014 Wednesday
Chief Complaint: (written on the chart before I go in the room)
“Sore throat and spitting.”
Interesting Name:
Summer
Anecdote:
It was a big day for Joey, age three. He had brought in his "binkies" (pacifiers) to give to me in one fell swoop since it was his third birthday. He was very attached to these, to say the least. His Mother pulled out a huge bag filled with his pacifiers and I was beginning to have my doubts about his intentions as I watched him.
He looked inside and screamed with delight as he joyfully rummaged through the bag. He pulled two out and gazed lovingly at them. One was multicolored and shiny and he greeted it like a long-lost friend. As he gazed at it, he exclaimed under his breath, "Ahhhh! Ooooooh!" He turned it over in his hand a few times and then, like a wine connoisseur, quickly popped it in his mouth and gave it two or three expert sucks, I guess to check the bouquet.
He then immediately turned his attention to the second pacifier. He suddenly became subdued as he entered a trancelike state, staring stone faced at the glistening pacifier. Soft murmuring sounds came from his lips, "Ummmmmm...aaahhhhh."
He looked inside and screamed with delight as he joyfully rummaged through the bag. He pulled two out and gazed lovingly at them. One was multicolored and shiny and he greeted it like a long-lost friend. As he gazed at it, he exclaimed under his breath, "Ahhhh! Ooooooh!" He turned it over in his hand a few times and then, like a wine connoisseur, quickly popped it in his mouth and gave it two or three expert sucks, I guess to check the bouquet.
He then immediately turned his attention to the second pacifier. He suddenly became subdued as he entered a trancelike state, staring stone faced at the glistening pacifier. Soft murmuring sounds came from his lips, "Ummmmmm...aaahhhhh."
Suddenly, he was shocked from his deep reverie as his Mother said, "Now Joey. You remember how we talked about your binkies. You're three years old now and you said you would give them away after your birthday. Say goodbye now."
He looked down at the binky and then looked up at me, raised his hand and said, "Goodbye, Dr. Feole."
Westport, Connecticut, 1990's
He looked down at the binky and then looked up at me, raised his hand and said, "Goodbye, Dr. Feole."
Westport, Connecticut, 1990's
The New Song
For some time I thought there was time
and that there would always be time
for what I had a mind to do
and what I could imagine
going back to and finding it
as I had found it the first time
but by this time I do not know
what I thought when I thought back then
There is no time yet it grows less
there is the sound of rain at night
arriving unknown in the leaves
once without before or after
then I hear the thrush waking
at daybreak singing the new song
-W. S. Merwin
from The New Yorker, 12/12/2011
Coup d'essai:
PART II of XX: from my Migrant Health Clinic Journal
Dr. Prasad, the Indian Medical Director, then elaborated on this unusual, to me, state of affairs (a pig had stepped on the patient's foot). “This happens pretty frequently. But what happens more frequently is that the workers, in trying to tackle the hog and give it an injection, often miss and stab themselves in the thigh or arm. They ignore that too and show up here a week or two later with an infection.”
He was speaking very nonchalantly, giving me scientific data in his precise Indian accent. He rolled his eyes slowly to the ceiling as he told me this aspect of routine medical care in the country.
After a pause, his eyes lit up and he started talking about his new found love again: golf. He again looked up at the ceiling, this time wistfully, and said, “Golf. I wish I could play that game every day." He had actually bought some clubs for his wife and daughter, but they were resisting mightily.
It was funny to observe. It’s was a reverse theme of the wonderful movie, East is East, where the Pakistani father, who owns a fish and chip shop in London with his English wife, struggles in vain to get his children to maintain their Pakistani ties. This in the face of rock music, dating, television, drugs, and sexuality everywhere. Dr. Prasad, or “Prasad” as his wife calls him (which seemed to indicate a comedic, playful understanding of her Quixotic husband) seemed determined to acclimate his family to an American lifestyle...but his ten year old daughter was already a little too acclimatized: she didn’t want to get off the couch. Or stop watching TV or playing computer games. His gift of golf clubs was a personal affront to her. She will get off the couch, though, to shop at the Raleigh mall. She’s also expert at shopping through the catalogues and on-line he told me.
When they returned to Indian last month, she met her cousins there for the first time. They were amazed at the amount of American money she carried around. She further amazed them by buying a large bejeweled Indian jewelry box and subsequently filling it to the brim with her favorite bangles, earrings, and necklaces. I’m sure they got an eyeful of their rich American cousin.
I was about to blurt out, “Do you really want to join the ranks of the mindless T.V. programmed American consumer?” But as I thought this, I happened to glance out the office window to see his brand new, gleaming SUV (or was that his wife’s new SUV?) just staring at me, daring me to say something. Or daring me not to lust after something similar. The irony struck me: the wealth this man, himself an immigrant from India, was accumulating with this brand new car, sitting in a dusty, dirty parking lot of a clinic teaming with poor immigrant Latino workers. I had a lot to learn, and a lot to experience; there would be no easy answers here.
Favorite Musician/song:
Song: Blue Ridge Mountains
Delicate rhythms and soft, haunting guitars, his voice the most important and transporting instrument in the band, the intricate harmonies and lyrical songs...pure poetry.
Among my favorite groups.
Favorite Book/author:
Intelligent, perceptive, ironic, humorous, deep. Incredible books.
Favorite Movie/DVD:
I love movies with rural, small town settings, in this case a Maori village in New Zealand. Add to this the Grandfather/granddaughter relationship and love; and a coming of age, empowering story of this young girl. I agree with the reviews: "timeless…astonishing…enchanting"
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