Stories of mid-twentieth century medicine, cont'd

Gentlemen:  I have made some changes to the blog.  First, please note the "comment" section below each post.  I THINK it is now set up to allow anyone to comment, although your comment may list you as "anonymous".   Second, remember that at the bottom of the page there is an "Older Post" notice that you may click to go backwards.  Blogs show more recent posts first, so if one wants to read in order, one must start at the oldest and then read up.

Now that the subject of cats has been broached there is the potential for all manner of stories. Who lacks one regarding pets or other animals?  I once tamed a feral, tail-less cat whom I named "Bob" for obvious reasons.  After some time I felt it was my bounden duty and service to have Bob "gone over" by our local vet.  After the exam I was told that Bob was female.  She became "Roberta" from then on.  What about the pet turtles, Norm van Brocklin and Johnny Unitas, that my brother and I had?  We buried Norm van Brocklin in a metal bandaid box after his demise.  Six weeks later, Johnny Unitas died.  In an uncharacteristic display of economy, we elected to exhume van Brocklin and use the same coffin.  While preparing the body, you can imagine our horror as van Brocklin came forth from his tomb! Turns out they were hibernating.


So Dad:  what about the rabid fox patient at the Lexington Clinic?  How about an account of the maternity ward in Memphis at the height of the summer?  Don't I remember something about white women calling for their husbands, but black women calling for Jesus?  And who was it whose patient came back to the office with profuse thanks for saving her life?  As I recall, the doctor didn't remember the case.  He asked what her diagnosis was.  "Oh, doctor," she replied, "you said I was moribund, and you were right!"