House-calls
Yesterday (Wednesday, June 29, 2011) a Visiting-Nurse looked at a small swelling on my wife’s forearm and said “Ya know, ya probably oughta see a doctor about that. It looks like it might be phlebitis.”
Phlebitis being inflammation of a vein. My wife has had numerous intravenous inserted, an invitation for phlebitis.
Engage wheels of setting up a medical appointment, in this case good old Bloomfield Family Practice, in my humble opinion the best doctors we’ve ever had.
But it’s not like the old days. Bloomfield Family Practice doesn’t do house-calls.
Anyone younger than 50 would laugh at the concept of house-calls.
The doctor shows up at your house in his pea-green ’52 Chevy Fleetline fastback, rings your doorbell, and walks in with his tiny black satchel.
No, you phone the medical-establishment and arrange an appointment to see the doctor on his own turf.
Okay, but in my case that’s five miles away.
And I get the same things I did as a child.
“Take a deep breath.” The doctor listens to your lungs with his stethoscope.
Wherein does that have anything to do with phlebitis?
It’s part of the drill — the motions you go through. A sort of religious pursuit.
The black satchel was the doctor’s pill-case.
“I think your son has a bronchial infection, Mrs. Hughes. For that ya need these sulfa drugs.”
Pill-case opened, the doctor would extract a tiny vial of sulfa-pills from his array.
That’s not how it works nowadays.
Bloomfield Family Practice calls in a prescription to Rite-Aid of Honeoye Falls.
Drive all the way to Rite-Aid pharmacy; that’s nine miles from Bloomfield Family Practice.
Another quarter-inch of rising sea-levels to flood Florida and Manhattan.
And unbreathable air for our children.
See the doctor equals increase your carbon-footprint.
Used to be our bread was delivered by a bread-truck, as was our milk, and/or our dry cleaning.
Now we’re down to pizza delivery; and be sure to tip the driver.
Or it’s me that does the trekking.
The auto-teller at my bank is my car.
And it’s us visiting that medical-establishment.
That ’52 Chevy is junked!
• “Bloomfield Family Practice” is the doctor -office in nearby Bloomfield. It’s affiliated with Thompson Hospital in Canandaigua. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 15 miles away. —We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester. Adjacent is the rural town of East Bloomfield, and the village of Bloomfield is within it. “Bloomfield Family Practice” is within the village.)
• Our pharmacy is “Rite-Aid of Honeoye Falls.” (“Honeoye [‘HONE-eee-oy;' rhymes with 'boy'] Falls” is the nearest village to the west to where we live, a rural village about five miles away.
• My name is Bob Hughes.
Phlebitis being inflammation of a vein. My wife has had numerous intravenous inserted, an invitation for phlebitis.
Engage wheels of setting up a medical appointment, in this case good old Bloomfield Family Practice, in my humble opinion the best doctors we’ve ever had.
But it’s not like the old days. Bloomfield Family Practice doesn’t do house-calls.
Anyone younger than 50 would laugh at the concept of house-calls.
The doctor shows up at your house in his pea-green ’52 Chevy Fleetline fastback, rings your doorbell, and walks in with his tiny black satchel.
No, you phone the medical-establishment and arrange an appointment to see the doctor on his own turf.
Okay, but in my case that’s five miles away.
And I get the same things I did as a child.
“Take a deep breath.” The doctor listens to your lungs with his stethoscope.
Wherein does that have anything to do with phlebitis?
It’s part of the drill — the motions you go through. A sort of religious pursuit.
The black satchel was the doctor’s pill-case.
“I think your son has a bronchial infection, Mrs. Hughes. For that ya need these sulfa drugs.”
Pill-case opened, the doctor would extract a tiny vial of sulfa-pills from his array.
That’s not how it works nowadays.
Bloomfield Family Practice calls in a prescription to Rite-Aid of Honeoye Falls.
Drive all the way to Rite-Aid pharmacy; that’s nine miles from Bloomfield Family Practice.
Another quarter-inch of rising sea-levels to flood Florida and Manhattan.
And unbreathable air for our children.
See the doctor equals increase your carbon-footprint.
Used to be our bread was delivered by a bread-truck, as was our milk, and/or our dry cleaning.
Now we’re down to pizza delivery; and be sure to tip the driver.
Or it’s me that does the trekking.
The auto-teller at my bank is my car.
And it’s us visiting that medical-establishment.
That ’52 Chevy is junked!
• “Bloomfield Family Practice” is the doctor -office in nearby Bloomfield. It’s affiliated with Thompson Hospital in Canandaigua. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 15 miles away. —We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester. Adjacent is the rural town of East Bloomfield, and the village of Bloomfield is within it. “Bloomfield Family Practice” is within the village.)
• Our pharmacy is “Rite-Aid of Honeoye Falls.” (“Honeoye [‘HONE-eee-oy;' rhymes with 'boy'] Falls” is the nearest village to the west to where we live, a rural village about five miles away.
• My name is Bob Hughes.
posted by BobbaLew at 11:40 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home