We Weren't Perfect

by Eleanor Rodgerson, MD

They are all dead now and nobody will be hurt when their stories are remembered. It sometimes takes the passage of time to recognize mistakes made. And mistakes can be forgiven. Knowledge has improved.

There was the dose of Phenobarbital for sleep and calm that produced nightmares and still was repeated over and over again, its effects forgotten.

There were careless remarks. A patient sought a pregnancy for a second time. She had tried and tried with no success. And a fresh, new doctor told her, "Your obstetrician left placenta in the uterus after your birth and that’s why you can’t get pregnant again." It was the end of beautiful remembrances.

There was the physician who cut off his telephone at night so dying hospital patients and their nurses could not reach him. Substitutes unavailable? Where was the ideal of bringing comfort and painlessness?

If you were a doctor, your wife’s social position was fixed. She lived in a big house, a chauffeur drove her long car, and the children went to the best schools. The family belonged to select clubs. The Medical Society was joined and supported, and any doubtful applicants were excluded. There was no Income Tax. Efficient medical care was important, but money and status were right up there.

But, look! Repeating a drug that had perpetual side effects could be excused by the number of patients on tap. There were so many to keep track of. There were no computers and nothing palm-held away back then.

Careless remarks that cut into another doctor’s practice were understandable. What else could a doctor say? The patient expected some kind of an answer, or she might slip away.

Cutting off the telephone at night was not so bad. One or two emergencies might be missed, but sleep was necessary, wasn’t it, to get through the next day?

Raising a family without scandal and keeping it happy was expected and what was money for?

Alternative Medical Care filled the breech. When nothing else could be thought of, a jar of Vaseline mixed with honey, a teaspoonful three times a day might help. There was a dose of castor oil in the spring or a few Calomel pills to set one up. When there were no orthopedists, a plaster for an aching back produced heat and comfort. Tender loving car, a change of sheets and back rubs did wonders.

Yes, many patients were lost, but many survived. The practice of medicine improved even as the tender loving care disappeared. No, we were not perfect.