July 2, 2011
Bernard Lown
Essay 23
In early January 2011 my son, Fred, drove me to the Brigham and Women’s Hospital emergency ward for a recurrent intestinal obstruction. The streets from our upscale suburban home are full of potholes. For the first time I experienced each one as a painful jab in my distended belly. Arriving at the hospital I was in no mood to socialize. Beside me at the check-in desk was a familiar face, a heavy-set, elderly, unkempt woman in a wheelchair. Scraping my distracted memory evoked no name, no identity, no hint of recognition.
The woman made an announcement for all in earshot: “This is Doctor Lown, the greatest doctor in the world.” My contorted bowel remained indifferent to this ego enhancing proclamation. It did however awake a dormant memory. I finally recognized her. She was Priscilla , the wife of the Reverend Keith Johnston, who had been a patient 36 years ago on my service in this very hospital. The reason for his hospitalization then was due to a cardiac arrest, from which he had been resuscitated with difficulty. Priscilla told me that her husband had been now admitted with a massive cerebral bleed and was not expected to survive. I later learn that he died that very week./.../
No comments:
Post a Comment