Doctors...




Doctors/ healers/typewriters

This week, I had my last session with the doctor I've been seeing for over ten years. She told me she had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's and was retiring and moving to be with her family. A very sad situation indeed.
It made me think of the many doctors I've known, and the ones who were gifted in the different healing arts. In there somewhere, this story came to the surface....

I'd have to say that most of the doctors I've known were very special people. They got into that line of work primarily because it was in their hearts to help people. I distinctly remember being in college and talking to someone who was pre-med. I asked him why he was going into medicine. He looked at me shaking his head (as if I was asking the world's dumbest question) and answered "For the money, of course!" Thankfully, no one has ever said that me since.

Across the street from where my aunt and cousin lived, there lived a doctor and his sons. Certainly one of the old school docs. Lived to a pretty good old age. After he died a couple of the sons stayed on in the house.

My cousin was working in the maintenance department of a hospital. One day a nurse calls him up. Seems they have an old guy in their very-long-care department with a problem. Besides whatever is physically wrong with him, he has what a mechanic would call 'a short circuit between the earlobes.' What has kept him going is sitting by the window with an ancient portable typewriter, typing away in a slow one-fingered 'tak tak, tak, tak' all day. They don't know what he is writing, but it keeps his focus and makes him content. Seems the old typewriter has given up the ghost. The nurse figures that since the cousin works in maintenance, maybe he can fix it.

Well, the cousin is a lot of things. But he's not a typewriter mechanic. He tries, but in short order gives up.
He even takes it to a typewriter shop where the guys there tell him it's dead, parts don't exist, and it can't be fixed.
The nurses offer to buy another typewriter for the old man. He shakes his head 'no'. He can only use his typewriter. He only wants his typewriter to be fixed so he can use it again.
This goes on for a while. Now the old man just sits by the window, staring outside. The nurses are afraid his condition will deteriorate if they can't get him to focus on something.

On the way home one day, the cousin kept thinking about the typewriter. When he gets off the subway, he heads over to the Doctor's house. The Doctor's son answers the door.
"Hey Frog, what up?"
A bit of background here. The cousin grew up with the Doctor's sons and a bunch of other neighborhood boys. The cousin's voice changed first, so in a crowd of squeaky boy voices was one booming low-octave one. So his nickname became 'Frog', and it stuck for decades.
"You still have all that stuff in the basement from your dad?" the cousin asks.
"Sure. He's been gone for a while, but I just can't throw the stuff out."
"OK if I dig through the stuff?"
"Yeah, sure, why?"
So the cousin digs though the piles of stuff in the basement until he sees what he thought he remembered. One of those low black cases with a zipper around 3 sides. He unzips it, lifts the cover, and shakes his head. Exactly the same model typewriter as the old guy has.
"What up, Frog?" the son asks.
The cousin tells him the story about the old guy and the typewriter. He asks the son if he can give the typewriter to the old guy. Explains how much being able to write means to the old guy.
Without hesitation, the son gives the typewriter to the cousin.
"It's been sitting here for years. Never used it. Never will. Take it. My dad would want the old guy to have it."

The cousin brings the typewriter back to the hospital. He knows that if he gives it to the old guy, he may not take it because it isn't his old typewriter.
Well, the cousin is a lot of things, but he isn't a liar. He is a kind hearted sort who has compassion for wounded souls. He once brought a one-winged sparrow home he found on the sidewalk, nursed the bird back to health, and kept it alive for years.
He wondered what to do?
Well, the cousin is a lot of things, and one of them is a bit of an actor. He's played bit parts in shows, TV, movies, and commercials. He decides that it's time to write a bit of a show.
He puts the new(er) typewriter in the old case, and heads up to the guys room. He grabs a nurse and asks her to play along with him. They go into the room and tell the old man 'the story'
The cousin explains that he managed to find a lot of good used parts (true, they just happened to be assembled in one complete typewriter), and that he had spent a lot of time on the typewriter (also true). The nurse tells the old man that she saw the cousin working on the typewriter (also true). The cousin explains that he cleaned it all up so it would look like new (also true). After all the build-up, the cousin opens the case and shows the old guy the typewriter.
It worked. The old guy is almost in tears he is so happy. They spool a sheet of paper into the machine and step back.

A few days later the cousin went up to visit the old guy. He stood outside the door and heard the 'tak, tak, tak' of the old guy typing away. The cousin didn't even go into the room so as not to bother the old man.

When the cousin told his mom the whole story, she said that it proved how good the old Doctor was, that even after he had passed away he could help someone in need.

I am thankful for the healers I have known...

A face only a mother could love !