The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.

Doctor, Doctor give me the news

By Sally Day for the Quill

Do you ever wonder how many doctors a person has in their lifetime? For some, I imagine it is many. For the past twenty years, I have had two doctors - Dr. Robert Pogue and Dr. Michelle Bowen (Physician Assistant). Dr. Pogue has sadly passed away.

I could write an entire book on him, as most of us could. I will leave that for another day.

He is probably one of the most missed persons in this locale.

I have found Dr. Bowen to have fit into this community very well. She had a tough row to hoe and big shoes to fill, and she has done a great job with both.

My very first doctor brought me into this world, Dr. Dan Jamison. He delivered more than 4,500 babies in DuPage County over several decades.

He delivered all my siblings and many, many of my cousins. Dr. Jamison delivered all of my siblings and me on our due dates. My Mama respected him so much, I often wondered if she had us all on our due dates at his command!

Dr. Jamison did not molly-coddle his patients. I can attest to that fact!

I was a car hop in high school and in a wind storm one day, tripped over one of those cement separate long curbs which held back the cars. I was taken by a fellow employee to the hospital.

The nurses called Dr. Jamison and he asked to speak with me. He asked me what happened and before I could even tell him he said, "What are you doing out? It is storming and you know your mother is afraid of storms. If your foot still hurts on Monday (this was Friday evening) come in and we will x-ray it." I said I would, to which he added, "No, Monday is Labor Day, come in Tuesday."

So Tuesday, I hobbled to the hospital, where it was x-rayed. He was called and came to the hospital and set it. He had placed a rubber bumper in the bottom of the cast, making it a walking cast, but told me not to walk on it for 24 hours until it had dried. He was headed home after the task and offered to drive me home, as well.

I was taken out to his little Studebaker car in a wheelchair and got in on the passenger side. On the way home, he said he had to pick up an angel food cake for his wife. So we stopped at the local Jewel Store, and Dr. Jamison ran in to purchase his desert. He had only been gone a very short while, when the car began to roll backward. It was on a very slight incline and the doctor had not placed it in gear. I didn't know what to do, as it was my left leg which was casted and I couldn't get my foot to the brake. So, I leaned down and placed two hands on both of the shorter pedals on the floor. I knew one was a clutch and didn't know which to press down, so I pressed them both.

I stayed in that position for a few minutes, when I suddenly heard Dr. Jamison calling my name. Apparently when he exited the store he looked at the car and didn't see me and thought I had left the car. I kept saying, "I am in the car." He didn't hear me. Finally, I raised one hand quickly to indicate I was in the car. He finally realized what was going on and rescued me from my place under the dashboard.

We both had a good laugh and he drove me home. Once we got home, Dr. Jamison got out of the car, came around to my side, and carried me into the house. Imagine my Mama's surprise to see the good doctor carrying me in to safety.

Weeks later, he needed to remove the cast, so I went to his office for the quick task. Dr. Jamison first tried an electric saw, and when that wasn't working he got some clippers. They looked like a tree trimming tool. As he began to cut the cast off, I kept jumping. He said, "Sally, sit still." I said, "Doctor, I think you are cutting into my leg."

"Aw, no I am not. You just feel the cold steel of the tool and think it is cutting your leg," he said. I kept jumping and he kept chiding me. When he reached the top of the cast and peeled it open, there was a jagged line of blood, where the tool kept cutting my leg. He brought his fingertips to his mouth, licked them and rubbed my leg clean of the blood. No, Dr. Jamison did not pamper his patients.

Another time, I had a wart at the base of my thumb and he said it needed to be burned off. So, first he tried to burn it off with dry ice and then an electric burner of some sort. I came back a third time for him to try the dry ice again. He gave me a small shot of novocaine first and then began to burn the wart off.

Dr. Jamison was called to the phone and I patiently waited for about 30 minutes! He came back and immediately started working on my wart again. The novocaine had worn off and I pulled my hand back in pain. "Oh, you don't need novocaine," he said, "this will only take a couple of minutes." No pampering here!

Again, in high school, I fell beneath the bleachers while running in track and embedded cinders in my knee. I needed to go to the doctor, but decided to wait because I had a test which I did not want to retake later. So, after school, I called my Mama and she came to take me to Dr. Jamison.

First he took a pair of scissors and cut the bigger pieces of rock out of my knee. Then, he unceremoniously placed my foot in a metal bowl, took out a hard plastic brush and began scrubbing my knee hard. I held on to my Mama's hand while the tears streaked down my face. Dr. Jamison scrubbed my knee for what seemed like forever, as the blood streamed down my leg. When he was done, he poured iodine on my knee and it flowed down into the bowl, as well. Although it hurt bad, there are no scars from that wound, because he created little wounds out of the big ones.

After Dr. Jamison, I had many doctors while my first husband was in the Navy. I had a few gynecologists after that and Dr. Mueller from La Harpe and Dr. Borum from Blandinsville. Drs. Mueller and Borum were the old country doctors who made house calls and did not pamper.

I honestly think we were much better off by the doctors who did not pamper.