An Average Weekend in the Life of a Country Doctor

        Old Doc’s still rocking along.

        Friday I got to tell a young mom her biopsy result was not melanoma, but just a mole. Don’t forget your sunscreen, kid. I dang near cried. I worry over those ragged dark moles. 

        I sat in last night with a swing band at the Winery. It’s two doors down from the Kingdom Hall of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. You can’t miss it. Go by Harvey Memorial and take a right at the Crystal Sea of Galilee Fish Camp, then left at Vernie’s picking barn. Turn in by the split rail fence on the little gravel road. You’ll see a bunch of grape vines there. It’s as close to French as you’ll find in Harvey County. (Polly Voo Who?)

        A favorite patient drove herself to my gig, and even got up and danced one tune. She came up to speak. “Doctor, did you know it was my birthday?”

         “Well, Happy Birthday. I hope I do half as good as you.”

        She said she had to drive home before it got too late, but I could forgive that; she just turned 90. I wish I could take credit for it, but I’m sure it’s because she picked out good ancestors.

        I’m booked with Irish singer-songwriter Al Donnelly today. It’s the Farmer’s Market gig and old man Turner will have those homemade fried pies I love so much. 

        The Farmer’s Market is right there at the court-square. We have one of those southern squares where the Bermuda grass is lush and green and there’s a white-washed brick courthouse. A lonely solider stands guard in the shade of the old oak tree. His rifle has rested on his shoulder since I was a little boy. As a kid I always imagined he’d jump down and defend us. I’m thankful he hasn’t had to fire yet.

        There’s a WWII Memorial on the west side. My uncle died in France. I always go by and read off his name and wonder why I have been so fortunate and so many were struck down so young.

        I might mow some grass before it gets too hot. Tomorrow I’ll ask for forgiveness for any and all mistakes I’ve made, wipe the slate clean, and go try again. 

        For the most part it was a good week, though. I didn’t have to tell anyone their mama died, and no one turned up with cancer. I’ll take that luck and run with it.

        I hope to make a formal book release announcement very soon. I wish it was today, but with the kind of week I’ve had it’d be wrong to complain.

Dr. B

Explore posts in the same categories: memorable gigs, Writing


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8 Comments on “An Average Weekend in the Life of a Country Doctor”

  1. newt221 Says:

    Dr. B, I just love your posts. It is like I am right there with you. I can see the relief on the woman’s face. I can see you dancing with the 90 year old patient. I can see the courthouse and the square…

    You paint beatiful word pictures! I am willing to let my imagination go and “see” what you are paintin with your words.

    Thank you for that pictures. A snapshot into the life of an small town, American doctor who loves and cares for his patients, family and friends.

  2. drtombibey Says:


    Pretty country over there; no doubt about that.

    Dr. B

  3. Baby Bibey Says:

    Happy Father’s Day Dad! Hope you have a great one. Love you!

  4. I wish, and I’m sure you wish it too, that every week would be one in which you didn’t have to tell anyone about death or cancer! I’m glad this week was a good one.

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