All in Family History
Christmas, Scott Mission for the homeless, and my dad
Further north, as we approach College Street I see a tall man wearing a long black coat, shiny black shoes, and a black shirt with a black collar that is cut away to show a white strip of cloth in front. He is bare-headed despite the nip in the air. He is standing close to a lamp post and a sandwich board with white writing and a white cross on black background.
“Hello sir, where are you from?” he says to my dad as we pass by.
No: this is my patient. Part II: My Hercule Poirot moment
I was pissed that he would write that on an official medical document. I stood up, ripped off my gloves and ran into the nursing station where Dr. Simoo was sitting.
No: this is my patient. Part 1: The gathering storm
: “Can you tell us why we should not withdraw your hospital privileges effective immediately?” A withdrawal of privileges for cause would effectively end my career as a doctor. I was totally blindsided by this. There was no hint of this when I was told I should meet with Mrs. Hunter.
Father's Day Part III: A tale of two fathers
In keeping with the father theme of this blog series, a few words about Kuba. In 1941 Kuba had a wife and young son and was living in the city of Tarnopol, in what was then in Poland. As part of the then secret Molotov-Ribbentrop non-aggression agreement between Hitler and Stalin, Russia invaded and gobbled up Eastern Poland on September 17, 1939 about 2 weeks after Hitler invaded the western part of Poland. Kuba was soon arrested in a sweep by the Russian police and charged with being a capitalist.
My Madame Defarge moment (Paris, 1953)
Everywhere there were comic books, advertisements, posters with men with pony tails, the sans culotte, with their tricolor hats and muskets, women wearing pinafores on their dresses and revolutionary hats and headbands on their heads…and Guillotines.
Father's Day, past: Part II (of III), The mountains as the busom
…there was an additional aspect that was highly significant for me. Re-bonding with my father. This is a bit hard to explain but I will try by the end of Part III.
Father's Day, past now and future: Part I (of III), The REAL Santa
Like in Paul Simon’s song, ‘I found myself driving down the highway with the child of my first marriage’.
Carbon monoxide story: 1.4 Flashback Toronto 1984
“Joe…mummy…is not feeling…well…”
A heart wrenching lesson. Conclusion. Part 3 of 3.
“No cancer.” I kept repeating to myself. “Regret” I said. “He ate himself up alive” I repeated. “He just willed himself to die”. “There was nothing I could do.”
A heart wrenching lesson in life: learned early, learned well. Part 2 of 3.
The next day I got all the rest of the tests back. I presented the patient to my staff at ward rounds. “Cancer.” he said. But as labs trickled back, no sign of cancer.
A heart wrenching lesson in life: learned early, learned well. Part 1 of 3.
I said “Ma’m, look at me and look at him. When did he last look like me?” She said “before 3 weeks ago”.
The carbon monoxide story. Part 1.0 "So ... Can You Use It to Cure Something?"
It started with an interest in measuring bronchial* tone. The trachea* and the bronchi are not just passive tubes: they actively constrict and dilate.
From Death to Life
In May 1944 21 year old Rachel Berneman was on a death march of prisoners leaving Auschwitz ahead of advancing Russians. Rachel was sleeping the same bunk with Hanna , who she believed was her last living relative.