The Country Doctor Revisited

        Y’all I’m proud of this one. It is the only known example of physician bluegrass fiction to ever grace the pages of a formal medical compilation by a professor and scholar. Dr. Therese Zink is a regular contributor to JAMA, but she liked two of my essays enough to include them in her Kent State University Press book, ‘The Country Doctor Revisited.”

        I know what Mama is gonna get for Christmas. (She already has “The Mandolin Case.”) I know she musta fretted when I was young as to where my music might take me. Worry no more, mom. By virtue of my art more than science, your boy is hanging in there with the pros.

        Dr. Zink’s website is www.thecountrydoctorrevisited.com 

        Here’s ​a pic of the cover.

Dr. B

A Doctor With A Song

        My reputation is getting around.

        A couple of weeks ago, a new set of twins came to our practice. “Our old doctor was nice,” they told Lynn O’Carroll. “What do they do for fun here?”

       “Dr. B plays the mandolin.”

        “What’s a mandolin?”

        “It’s sorta like a ukulele.”  They didn’t respond. “You know, a little bitty guitar,” she explained.

      “A guitar?”

      “Somewhat. You want to hear him play it?

       “Yeah!” They bounced off the exam table. Better than shots, I guess.

       It was a lazy summer afternoon, and Lynn came and got me. “These kids have never heard a mandolin. You got a minute?”

        “Sure.”

        I got out my office mandolin and played the “Kentucky Waltz.”

       One came up and brushed her hands across the strings. “Cool.”

        Weeks went by. I didn’t think much more about it, but a couple of days ago I got a call from one of the other doctor’s nurses. “Can you talk to the patient in room two?”

       “Dr. Lucas’s room?”

        “Yes. They have a question.”

       It was little girl, around six I would guess. Her hair was pulled back in a pigtail and she had a bunch of freckles.

       “Whats the matter, kid?” I asked.

       “My cousin was here last week. She got a song.” Her lip pooched out.

        “Hm. Let me go get my mandolin” I played “The Kentucky Waltz” again.

        She brightened up. “I’m gonna tell my sister to come here.”

       “Well make sure your mama tells the insurance company there’s no extra charge for a song; the music is free here. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

      “Okay.” She hopped down out of the chair and skipped down the hall where her mother was at the checkout window. “Hey mama, the music’s for free.”

        My guess is when that kid is old she won’t remember she had contact dermatitis, but I’ll bet she’ll won’t forget the doctor played a song for her on a little bitty guitar. If I’m lucky she’ll remember it was the “Kentucky Waltz.”

        I wonder how many doctors serenade their patients. I hope the government and the insurance companies don’t find out. I bet they’d put  a stop to it.

        As for me, I’m gonna keep the music going as long as I can. What I can’t cure I can at least make feel better.

Dr. B