KevinMD June 20, 2024
Clueless at the time, when I applied to medical school, I imagined myself one day making house calls, good ol’ Doc Schwab, paid in chickens and pies, smiles, and blackberry jam. There I’d be, delivering babies on kitchen tables, patching up Old Lady Jones’s leg on the sofa, shaking out thermometers, and feeling foreheads. One of my roommates in med school was the son of such a doctor, although instead of clopping around with a horse and buggy, he raced across the back roads of Kentucky in an Aston Martin DB4 before James Bond ever saw one. State cops would look the other way: “Ain’tcha gonna stop ‘im Jess?” “Hail no, that thar’s Doc Munger, heading t’ th’ McCoy homestead,...
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