W
hen he began to practice medicine, the only office Dr. Williams could afford was a small room over a saloon. A wooden sign tacked on the front of the building gave directions: “Dr. Williams is upstairs”.
He took care of the town, charging little and forgiving the fees of those too poor to pay. One day he died. He left no money for a burial stone, but someone had an idea. Now, were you to visit his grave, you would see the old sign – now his marker and epitaph – “Dr. Williams is upstairs.”
I had a patient the other day who immortalized herself for a day with the ER staff. Seventy-two-years old she was; slipped and fell; broke her ankle.
She lost her footing while hunting, dragging a deer out of the woods. She had had a heart attack two months before.
I walked in to her and didn’t say a word. I merely shook her hand. To find such a person as this is the equivalent of discovering a cat with insomnia. I have since passed several feverish nights wondering if I was equal to her feat.
She had a question: Can I go to work tomorrow?
“I’m not man enough to stop you,” I answered.
*******
Josephine, aged 92, came to the ER with stomach pain of two days’ duration.
She wouldn’t take off her clothes; must have thought we have diagnostic divining rods in the ER. When I asked for a urine, I was informed that she only urinated on alternate Thursdays. And this being Tuesday of the even numbered week… well.
“We should get a blood test,” I said.
“Had blood tests six weeks ago.” Silly me.
I tried to check her abdomen through her clothes. She was wearing a girdle; and old-timey one at that. It would have deflected a mortar round at point blank range.
If she had been in early labor, I could not have guessed it. When she left, she advised me that she was not well pleased with her care.
*******
I asked him, “What medicines do you take?”
“I take one pill for high blood pressure and one for memory loss”
“What’s the name of the blood pressure pill?”
“Dyazide.”
“And the memory pill?”
“I can’t remember.” [True story.]
*******
A woman went to the doctor’s office complaining of persistent hiccups, where she was seen by a young, new doctor. After about 4 minutes in the examination room, the doctor told her she was pregnant. She burst out, screaming as she ran down the hall.
An older doctor stopped her and asked what the problem was, and she told him her story. After listening, he had her sit down and relax in another room. The doctor marched down the hallway to the back where the first doctor was and demanded, “What’s the matter with you? Mrs. Terry is 59 years old, she has four grown children and seven grandchildren, and a hysterectomy. And you told her she was pregnant?!”
The new doctor continued to write on his clipboard and without looking up replied, “Does she still have the hiccups?”
*******
It was a busy day, and I was becoming frustrated. I had given my patient her diagnosis, but she was balking.
“How do I know you know what you’re doing?”
“Well, I’m board-certified and I study every day.”
“I just don’t know. Maybe I should get a second opinion.”
My patience snapped, and I said, “Well, I wish you’d make up your mind! I’ve got other patients to see, mom.”
Check out Lucky’s books “The Oath of Hippocrates” and ‘A Journey Long Delayed” available locally and on-line.