Dr No

Yesterday, I was in the area of Kennesaw Mountain and pulled in the parking lot of the Kennesaw History Museum. I do this from time to time, to (1) see if they have new interesting publications at a decent price and (2) to use the restroom.

As I opened the door an elderly Asian couple was coming out. As I always do, I held the door opened for the couple to exit. They politely thanked me and started back chatting in their mother-country language. It was easily to deduct they were about to walk up Kennesaw Mountain – or maybe they had already walked up and down and just came in to use the facilities. Whichever.

I started to step inside and right behind them was another little short Asian-looking man. A straggler from the elderly couple? The only thing this guy was dressed for very cold weather… he had on a toboggan, down-insulated jacket and trousers (which made him stiff to walk), and a 6 ft tall walking staff. In that getup he would perfectly natural posing for a picture half way up Mount Everest. But here in sunny Georgia, at noon, with a temperature between 65 and 70?

He said “Thank you” in a whispery voice. I recognized that rasping voice and then I recognized him - I knew exactly who he is! He is not an Asian. He is Dr., C., who retired about a year or so ago.

I nodded at him and something like, “Doctor..” Which he seemed delighted someone recognized him and with a big smile asked how I was doing. That is a greeting-type “How are you? (no details please)” And I said, “fine, how are you? (I couldn’t help you if you told me any details).”

Dr. C. practiced internal medicine and was a retired military doctor.

I remember back in the late ‘60s Anna went to this doctor once and only once because of his terrible bed-side manner.

However, my mother and father went to him. I don’t know why they went to him. He was high and mighty, rude, and never could get their medicines right.

When it was discovered Daddy was a diabetic Dr. C. would prescribe something and maybe he feet would swell, and he would prescribe something else and all his arms and legs would become dark red…. Daddy also had high blood pressure so that had to be delt with along with diabetes – It kind of reminded me the “eat me”s in Alice in Wonderland one will make you too large the other one makes you too small, etc

After Daddy had died and Mama had Parkinson’s disease she could not move a muscle. If she fell, it took more than one person to lift her. If she fell, first my sister would try to get in touch with me, which was not always easy, because I worked 10 hours each day, she called the local fire department to help get our mother back in bed or in a wheelchair.

The local firemen were glad to do it and always told my sister not to hesitate calling them.

I usually helped to get her to the doctor. We would line up a couple of doctors appointments and maybe even a beauty shop appointment to get the most of the outing.

One time I remember we were sitting in Dr. C.’s office and my sister was telling the doctor the latest on how my mother was doing and she said something like, “Last Monday she fell, and I couldn’t get Eddie, so I called the fire department…”

Dr. C., interrupted by saying, “You did WHAT!”

“Called the Fire Department…”

“At tax payers’ expense?”

“Well….”

“What if there was a fire? You were keeping those men from being ready!”

And we all got a lesson in civic responsibility and fiscal responsibility. I don’t think he ever got around to her ailments that day, he was disgusted with us freeloaders on the system.

My sister should have told Dr. C. that she, at Christmas time made the men at the Fire Staion at Midway Road a box of brownies every year (which she really did). That would have changed Dr. C's opinion of us.

In the next few visits we continued to get civic lessons so my sister finally had Mama changed over to her doctor, a woman doctor, who is very patient friendly and has a great bedside manner.

That first time, mentioned above, that we were receiving our lessons of responsibility from Dr. C., I noticed a back pack and a pair of hiking boots over the corner that he was piddling with between patients.

Now, he gets to hike up and down Kennesaw Mountain. Good for him.