More on Dr. Beasley

Henry  ---  You have a good memory.  It was the same Rogers Beasley.  Evidently he came back to Memphis after serving as a medical corpsman in WW II, applied for readmission to medical school, was accepted (it helped that his grandfather had been President of the University) and he probably contributed more to the service of humanity than any other medical graduate of the University.  He was instrumental in bringing medical care to Appalachia through the Frontier Nursing Service, worked with Dr. Hertig in Boston to formulate and test the “pill” that brought contraception to millions of women, went to Africa and established a Leper Hospital for those suffering from that disastrous disease, and closed his medical career as director of the medical mission to the underserved in India and Pakistan.  He retired to live at Sewanee where he went to undergraduate school.  I visited him there before he died of ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease).      Will Meriwether

W. Rogers Beasley, M.D.

Henry  --  Yes, I did get the picture of your Dad and Bill Gardner.  Brings back memories.   Of the starting class of 40 there were 30 graduating. Now there are only six left, all around the age of 90, give or take a year.   That’s 24 with no staying power.

                            Now for a story  --  During our first year of medical school the main subject was Anatomy with cadaver dissection in the lab.  One fine spring day the irrascible Anatomy professor noted that one of our classmates, Rogers Beasley, had his elbow on the cadaver and was gazing out the window.  The professor said, “Beasley, why aren’t you carrying on with your dissection?”  Beasley,  instead of saying, “Yes sir, sorry sir, I’ll get right on it, sir”, made the mistake of being philosophical and said, “Dr. Miller, sir, there are other things in life to be observed.”  Whereupon Dr. Miller said, “ Beasley, come to my office.”  Beasley went to his office and what transpired will never be known, but we never saw Beasley again.    I suppose there is a moral to this story, a lesson to be learned.  Perhaps it is this -  choose the right moment to wax philosophical.           

                            Which brings up another story about philosophy.   When I was in Korea, standing in the mess line waiting to be served, I struck up a conversation with one of the cooks.  I asked him how he came to be a cook in the army.  He said, “Sir, I was a philosophy major at Princeton, and when the draft brought me into the army they must have had enough philosophers,  so they made me me a cook.    I suppose there is a lesson to be learned here too  - choose the right time to become a philosopher, and that is not when there is a war going on.        Will Meriwether

Henry Selby	6:52 PM (20 hours ago)
to William

Great stories!  But don't I vaguely remember a W. Rogers Beasley who was very instrumental in building up the Frontier Nursing Service?  It seems to me that I even wrote to him once while I was an undergrad at Sewanee .  .  .
I did a quick web search on the FNS but couldn't find any reference to him.  I did discover that they now are a full fledged University!
yours,
Henry

Gardner and Selby

Drs. Bill Gardner and Selby 2012

PaPa and Grandma

Dear Dr. Meriwether,
I have very much enjoyed your stories and have shared them with the extended Selby clan.  They remind me of some stories I've heard from Dr. Gardner, including hillbilly medicine in this part of the world. He tells a hilarious anecdote of curing a woman of food poisoning in a remote cabin up in the Clinch Mountain range.  He instructed her sons to dispose of the "head cheese"  (also called "souse" or "souse loaf" that she had stored on a plank of wood in the shade).  The next morning when he arrived at his office in Tazewell, there were the two boys doubled over and vomiting energetically.

Your stories also bring to mind stories my mother would tell us of working at the "accident room" at Union Memorial Hospital in downtown Baltimore.  The stereotypically stupid-but-kindly Irish policemen usually played a role in her accounts.  For example, after being reprimanded over and over again for not collecting body parts after a trauma for possible reattachment, a cop brought my mother a Roi Tan cigar box full of brains from a jumper suicide.  Another time the ER doc was looking in a transient's ear with one of those old, heavy otiscopes.  "Dent!" he called.  "Get over here!  There's something looking back at me!"  Turned out that the homeless man's ear was full of maggots.  In a very weird small world incident, I happen to know that the doctor's name was Burgwyn.  He was an OB doc on temporary assignment from Richmond.  Years later his son and I were on the faculty at a boarding school together!

Dad also has many stories that we appreciate.  One that sticks out in my mind is when he convinced that giant psychiatric VA hospital in Kentucky to let him start a nuclear medicine department.  You may already know that, despite his choosing a psychiatrist as my godfather, Dad doesn't like psychiatric disorders.  Part of the raw deal he got was being made medical director! (I think the hospital had 1000 psychiatric beds).  Anyway, his very first patient revealed that he had killed his father, cut off the father's head, put it on a fencepost, and conversed with it for several years before being discovered.  I remember Dad saying that "he seemed so normal."

yours,
Henry

Appendicitis and Korea

To  Henry, (formerly known as Hank)   ---   Those waves are really scary. Even worse than Cherokee Lake,I believe. When I was going across the Pacific in a little troop ship for the Korean war we had a storm, but nothing like those waves.  Our ship would rise up in a wave, then go crashing down, sideslipping a bit.  Practically all the troops became seasick.  The lower decks had to be hosed down each day to get rid of what came up. It was in mid-winter, and the troops were made to go up to the main deck in the cold spray while the lower decks were cleaned.   They soon learned that in order to get out of the cold they could come to sick call, and I was helping the two young ship’s doctors handle the load, though I was a passenger myself.   One soldier complained of lower right quadrant pain, and it was decided to operate on him for appendicitis.  I volunteered to give the anaesthesia – open drop ether was what we had.  So the two Navy docs strapped the patient down on a Guerney and proceeded to take out what was a normal appendix after some difficulty as neither had ever done an appendectomy before.   The patient survived, but when the next soldier came in with right lower quadrant pain they decided they had learned their lesson and did not operate.  His appendix ruptured and he was put ashore in Honolulu with peritonitis.     

                          Before going over to Korea to a MASH Unit, I was in Tokyo for a while, and who should pop up from Korea on R & R but your Pop.  I had not seen him since Medical School.

             My father was  named Henry, and my brother, and one of my grandsons, and my wife’s father, and my great grandfather, so that is a very familiar name in the family.         Will Meriwether

The "good" Old Days

Henry   ---  Yes,  Dr. William Henry Gardner  (another Henry) was a good friend, classmate, and we interned together in Memphis.   We interns in Memphis at the University Hospital got a dollar a day, which was a dollar more than your dad got in his internship,  worked a 100 hour workweek, got occasional Sundays off but no holidays and didn’t know we were being exploited as that was the custom.  It is quite different these days I understand.  At the hospital in Memphis the interns’ quarters were in the hospital.  There was no individual paging system and the hospital loudspeakers went on until midnight to call you to take care of the emergencies.  One out of every three patients on the medical wards died, so there were always emergencies.  After midnight the one legged elevator operator would come to get you for emergencies.  He had a peg leg and you could hear him coming down the hall, clump, clump, clump, hoping he would pass by your door.  There were four of us to a room, so there was usually one on call all the time.   Sleep was always a precious item as we got so little of it.  The University Hospital was the only hospital in a hundred mile radius that would admit Afro-Americans, so one had to be very sick to get admitted.  That is why the death rate was so high.  Each ward had 36 beds and a student nurse would be in charge of two wards after midnight.  There were two night supervisor RN’s who patrolled the hospital corridors at night to see that there was no hanky-panky with the student nurses and to help with emergencies.  Those two old crones were really hardnosed  and the student nurses lived in fear of them.  The emergency/admitting area was staffed by three interns over a twenty-four hour period, so that was a highly desirable assignment as you had only an eight hour shift, averaging about two hundred patients per shift to triage, either to admit or send to the out-patient clinics for an appointment.   A medical student was asssigned to the ER to sew up the myriad lacerations that occurred from knife or razor fights .   It was an arduous but exciting time in one’s life.              Will Meriwether

PaPa and the Duel

Henry   ---   Thanks for the news.  It ruined my day.  Anyway, I am reminded of the time when I did the eye pathology for the medical school here at the  the University of Texas.  There were all sorts of eye injuries that resulted in losing an eye, usually involving children.  The most common were B.B. gun injuries and bow and arrow mishaps. 

                        If I remember correctly you are headmaster of a school in East Tennessee. (Morristown  ?)  Your dad lived in East Tennessee for a while, Johnson City, I believe. 

              Now I shall regale you with an anecdote about your dad when we were medical students together in Memphis.     He always was a good tennis player and there were public courts near the University.  One day he had a pick-up game with a fellow who considered himself a superior player.  John creamed him with topspin returns that hit the baseline and jumped up out of his comfort zone and he kept mishitting the ball.  It made him furious and he challenged John to a fistfight.  John wisely replied that he would be happy to fight him but it would have to be the next day as he had to return to class right away.  They agreed on the place and time and I came as John’s second.  When we met up the fellow had calmed down and was quite contrite about losing his temper and apologized.  I think John knew all along what would happen, and I knew that John did not have to rush back to class that previous day.  You have a wise father.          Will Meriwether