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
July 31, 2014 Thursday
Chief Complaint: (written on the chart before I go in the room)
“sick per joy” (Joy is the triage nurse)
Interesting Name:
Zabian
Anecdote:
Being in solo practice with my office in my home was wonderful. My patients would go out of their way to respect my privacy but the occasional infringements did happen. They are often funny and something that I actually treasure.
John's best friend and constant companion, Sean, is eleven years old also. He and Sean are 'best buds' and they even once pleaded with us to see if Sean could sleep over...all week. They ride bikes to school, play together after school, go to soccer practice, etc.
They had their arguments for the week long sleep-over all prepared for Tina. However, Tina shocked them and just said, "Yes! Of course, That's a great idea." They looked at each other in disbelief and suspicion for a few seconds and then started shouting happily and jumping up and down.
A few days later, I didn't have to go to the hospital in the morning to see any newborns, so I was sleeping in after a long night that had the usual two or three nocturnal calls and a visit or two to the office in the early a.m. Both Sean and John suddenly appeared at my bedside at 7:15 a.m. before leaving for school, all wide-eyed and awake, pummeling me with 100 decibel questions.
Sean had a live tick sealed in a baggy that he thrust in front of my unfocused eyes as I lay in bed, asking for a professional opinion. I was scrambling for my glasses when he also held up a red ulcerated lesion on his thigh, dangling it before my eyes, as he showed me the lesion as I lay there half-asleep, my hair shooting out in all directions. I leaned up wearily on my elbow and mumbled some instructions for him to do to take care of that nasty lesion.
A few minutes later, I was delivered the portable home phone by John; it was Sean's Mom, a friend of ours, who had questions about various maladies that were afflicting him.
I could hear Sean and John rummaging in the office directly below my bedroom as they put some neosporin and a bandaid on his wound. I then picked up the cell phone and called in some medicine at the pharmacy for Sean...and then pulled the covers over my head for a few more stolen moments of sleep on this cold October morning before getting up to start the day.
I miss those days.
Westport, Connecticut, 1990's
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