Feel Good Stories

Family Doctor

The old family doctor—where is he now?  We fortunate senior citizens who have known at least one during our youth know what we are missing today.  We accepted this wonderful human being as a matter of fact; it was our heritage, our way of life.

Far different from today’s physicians, he was always on call.  His vacations were few and far between.  Most of his time, day or night, was devoted to his grateful patients.  He was not only a doctor but also a friend, a teacher, a confidante who sometimes wore the hat of a psychologist.  It was not uncommon for a few generations of a family to be treated by the same physician, over the course of many years.

Many times my two brothers and I took turns being examined.  House calls were expected to be made, even if it was not an emergency.  The doctor’s reward was three dollars, a quick cup of coffee, and a piece of homemade coffeecake.  Since my parents were friends of Dr. Rubin and his wife, my mother always made sure to offer him a coffee break.  The caring man would usually allow himself the luxury of a single cup before continuing on to his next stop.

Dr. Rubin pulled me through a serious illness when I was only 14 months old.  Poor little Bernice was battling whooping cough, measles, and the start of pneumonia.  My earliest memory is lying in my crib, staring up at the ceiling and wondering why I felt so miserable.  The doctor comforted me and stayed by my bedside one night, side-by-side with my parents.  Thank God, the crisis passed, my fever left, and I became well.  I’m happy to be here to tell that tale.

One day when I was three, I was standing on the sidewalk near my mother.  I was pulled from the sidewalk by an out-of-control small truck and dragged a couple of blocks by my lip.  Dr. Rubin was waiting for my mother and me after my mouth was stitched up.  He came every day to check my progress and to treat a resulting infection.

At the age of twelve, I overheard my mother telling her friend on the telephone that the teenaged child of someone she knew was pregnant.  She mentioned that the girl had let a boy get too close to her.  I didn’t hear the rest.  I took her words literally and believed I could get pregnant by being too close to someone.

I began to worry because I had let a boy kiss and hug me at a party where they were playing spin the bottle.  In my apprehension, I wondered, “What if I became pregnant?  Would I have to leave school?  What would my family and friends say?”  Such torment for an innocent adolescent!

The next day I insisted on seeing Dr. Rubin, claiming I didn’t feel well.  It was a warm Saturday, and we walked to his house, where he had office hours.  I spoke to him privately and he told me that not in a million years could I become pregnant that way.  He then told my mother that it was time she had a talk with me about growing up.

I was free of fear.  Life had become beautiful again.

Dr. Rubin was never judgmental.  He listened to me—really listened.  He answered all my questions patiently and understandably.  I miss those days when the doctor checked you and you didn’t have to have someone else check your temperature, blood pressure, weight, and other things.

Yes, those days are gone.  I realize there was so much we did not have, like television, computers, freezers, and medicines to treat so many ailments and help us live longer.  I could go on.

I am thankful that most of us had the care and compassion of the family doctor in those early years.