My Prescription for the Weekend
Well, it had to happen. I had my first complaint. One person came up and said they thought I ought to stay home and doctor and not be out playing music and yakking about books.
It didn’t upset me, though I gotta admit they missed my point. They didn’t understand what this music and the people who play it have meant to me.
I still love the doc gig. For almost a quarter century I worked day and night. I’d come in from the hospital about to drop. I’m certain many of those nights I’d a wound up in the ditch if not for my favorite artists on the stereo in my truck. It just got to the point where I was too old to work that hard anymore and I couldn’t let it kill me. I figured a dead Dr. B was no good to anyone.
I still care for my patients and read doctor books, but I don’t talk about all that at the festival much. I figure my people prefer any in-depth discussion of the latest treatment options of mycosis fungoides to be confined to the office. And I noticed yesterday when a rumor circulated you could get a free prostate exam with a book purchase not a soul signed up for the bonus, and I sold a bunch of books.
So my prescription for the weekend is for an end to “Bill Monroe Deficiency.” I vote for bluegrass music and moon pies, lots of sunscreen and a little Vitamin D, jam sessions with kids like the Moore Brothers and veterans like the Harvey County All-Stars, visits with new-found bluegrass/medical colleagues, and an end to LANS for all. (but within the confines of God’s plan)
We are all only human, and old Doc’s gotta soak up a few days in the sun before it’s time for the Harvey Nursing Home. When that time comes, I pray all my bluegrass pals will come visit and play me another tune, ’cause I can’t live without the music.
Y’all come out to Red White and Bluegrass, Morganton, N.C. We’re rocking.
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