Out Of The Old Black Bag
OUT OF THE OLD BLACK BAG
Little Things for Little People (Part 1)
Musical Accompaniment: “Both Sides Now” by Joni Mitchell (1969)
“Oh, but now old friends they’re acting strange
And they shake their heads and they tell me that I’ve changed
Well something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day
I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life at all”
* * * * * * * *
“Nothing ever goes away until it teaches us what we need to know”
Pema Chödrön
* * * * * * * *
On May 21, 2021 — my 70th birthday — the idea struck me while I was running a virtual marathon (climbing Mount Everest, of all places) that for the sake of “discipline,” I would create a diary in order that I should remember, at least on paper, the highlights of my “sudden death overtime” final year of pediatric practice. I argued that this might be beneficial for future excavation when my disintegrating memory is unable to cooperate.
I called the journal “The Final Days of BABYlon.” Although I think of the term “Babylon” as denoting a place and time of extravagance, excess (even decadence), and reawakening (such as referred to in American author F. Scott Fitzgerald’s short story, “Babylon Revisited”), I sought to reconcile the self-perceived disappointments of my long (some might say, too long) medical career with the documented realities of its intrinsic joys. It would be the last dance — to either remember or forget — and I admonished myself harshly in the preamble: “May I not breach this initiative”!
However, a breach was inevitable when a family member became ill and “tying up the loose ends of my career” took precedence in the waning months. Here are two of my favorite entries, which in the aftermath of separation now bring a laugh — and a tear:
July 26th — Zachary M has suddenly turned into a rapidly-growing, humor–obsessed teenager! Me: “Zach, how is your dear little sister?” Zach replies in a flash as soon as the words leave my mouth (obviously premeditated): “Grumpy!” So I gave him a “Grumpy” Care Bear sticker on his way out, under the pretense that I had intended to give it to his little brother.
And another…
Aug 18th — The three McK children came in with their dad — my old patient, who is now a principal. This brought back memories of that older generation and my fledgling days at HealthAmerica, a primary care center that is now defunct. The children’s great-grandmother saved the day 30 years ago when she convinced the green Doctor Kovatch that something was wrong with her daughter because she was no longer the fastest runner in her Kindergarten class; the next day she was in in Children’s Hospital with Guillain-Barre syndrome! On that day long ago, I became a staunch believer in the premise that a pediatrician should always trust the intuition of a parent — a belief that would often put me in hot water with those who think rationally.
I woke up from a dream last night and remembered one more item that was so gratifying and troubling, and that I had ironically forgotten to add it to my diary. It must have magically escaped from “out of the old black bag”!
A middle-aged woman who I did not recognize turned around and greeted me while waiting in the check-out line at Giant Eagle in another part of Pittsburgh, on the weekend before the “final day of BABYlon.” Our previous meeting about 20 years previously flashed back in vivid recollection. The mother claimed emphatically that when her 6-year-old son was in Children’s Hospital with Kawasaki disease, I had saved his life. I knew well that I had done nothing more that talk to her on rounds every day. I argued with her that I had done nothing of the sort, certainly nothing outside of my simpleton job description! Her perception of that reality had been distorted.
I never saw the boy or mother again after his discharge and had assumed that the family had “dumped me” because of incompetence. I learned that they had actually moved out of the area, the boy had become a star athlete and now had his own family living in another state.
And I had thought that the mother was simply ungrateful like the nine cured lepers in the New Testament of the Bible. “Were not 10 made clean — where are the other nine?” It became obvious to me that MY perception of that reality had been distorted, was just another of life’s delusions. I ceased arguing, we embraced and wished each other good luck and happiness with our grandchildren.
I had learned two critical lessons in a chance encounter lasting less than 2 minutes: the relativity of gratitude and, more importantly, the vast limitation of our perceptions. We all need this mother to come to our rescue when we feel we have nothing more left to give! It comes to little more.
It took me hours to fall back to sleep.
In retrospect, I had cultivated other beliefs along those 40 years which had been formulated from the memories in my diary. It is only fitting and proper that I share them with my own children and grandchildren, with my readers, and, especially, with the patients who made the 40 years of hard work and dedication worthwhile — which I will do tomorrow on The PediaBlog.
source http://www.thepediablog.com/2022/03/30/out-of-the-old-black-bag-18/
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