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THINK OF MEDICINE TODAY?
Marjorie Gottlieb Wolfe
Syosset, New York
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An “alt” (old) Jewish man went to “der dokter” complaining that his wife could barely hear. “I think she’s ‘toyb’--deaf,” he said. The “dokter” suggested a test to find out the extent of the problem. “Stand far behind her and ask her a question, and then slowly move up and see how far away you are when she first responds. The “alt” man excited to finally be working on a solution, runs home and sees his wife preparing “mitog” (dinner).
“Honey,” the man asks standing about 20 feet away, “What’s for dinner?”
After receiving no response he tried again 15 feet away, and again no
response. Then again at 10 feet away and again no response. Finally
he was 5 feet away. “Honey, what’s for dinner?”
She replies: “For the fourth time, it’s brisket.”
Bruce Watson (“The New (Old) Family Doctor: Cheaper, Better Care Without Insurance,” DailyFinance.com) wrote,
“In old movies and TV shows, medical care always seems like a simple thing. When Beaver Cleaver or Jim Finch is sick or injured, the kindly neighborhood doctor shows up, fixes everything, and gives the patient a bill. Payment usually occurs off screen, but the medical expenses never seem especially onerous: the “Beaver’s Tonsils” episode of “Leave it to Beaver,” doesn’t finish with Mr. Cleaver telling his son to hold on for a month until finances are better.”
My “kindhayt” (childhood) physician, Dr. Herbert Langer, had his practice in his home in Arverne, Rockaway Beach, New York. He made home visits carrying his little “shvarts” (black) bag and stethoscope. His treatments included “di bankes” (AKA “cupping glasses”). Enema bags hung on the back of “der vashtsimer” (the bathroom) door, and no-one was ever diagnosed with “man-flu”--n. A severe cold mistakenly self-diagnosed as the flu, particularly by men.
Dr. Langer would NEVER have shared this medical story: “At the beginning of my shift I placed a stethoscope on an elderly and slightly deaf female patient’s anterior chest wall. “BIG BREATHS,” I instructed her. “Yes, they used to be,” replied the patient.
He never used strange medical terms like “cox sackievirus,” “pernicious anemia,” “short-sightedness” (not having taken out more medical insurance), “shock treatment” (that mind-numbing moment when you look at your latest medical bill), and “lazy eye,” (an increasingly prevalent condition among our children due to the vast number of hours spent in front of the TV and video screens, their eyes have become fat, lazy, and almost useless.)
Dr. Langer didn’t know from CPT Codes, which provide a uniform language that accurately describes medical, surgical, and diagnostic services. He wasn’t concerned that his necktie grew microorganisms. (Almost half the ties worn by the medical staff at one medical center carried several strains of bacteria).
And, of course, he prescribed “Jewish penicillin” (AKA “chicken soup”). Chicken soup as a cold “sgule” (remedy) has been practiced by Jews for centuries. There’s a Sephardic custom of preparing caldo de gayina viejo (old hen chicken broth) for anyone “krank” (ill).
Dr. Langer never prescribed “Buyagra.” Married and otherwise attached men reported a sudden urge to buy their sweeties “tayer” (expensive) jewelry and gifts are taking this drug for only two days. Still to be seen: whether the drug can be continued for a period longer than your favorite store’s return policy. (Source: Women’s Quarterly, published by the Independent Women’s Forum)
In the pre-computer days, the doctor never had to deal with online reviews. There are now [2014] about 40 to 50 online sites that include doctor reviews or ratings. Three such sites are Healthgrades, RateMds.com, and Vitals. Part of being a doctor today means having to deal with these ratings.
Today we have a “pop-up” medical clinic on Fire Island (NY) named BELLY ACRES. It’s a public service to the community’s “zumer” (summer) residents and a marketing endeavor that hopes that the residents will stay within the North Shore-LIJ system after the season.
And we have “virtual doctor visits,” medical visits where users can go online and consult with a doctor or other health-care provider, any time of the day or night, from wherever they are. (Note: the Yiddish words meaning “to consult” are “meyashev zine zikh mit”).
The “patsyent” (patient) starts by downloading the company’s app or going to its “vebzayt” (website). First-time users will open an account and fill out a medical history. One company, American Well, lets users see what doctors are available and select one. Teladoc, assigns a doctor. A diagnosis, opinion or treatment often can be made on the spot, including calling in “der retsept” (the prescription). The cost: Generally $40 to $50 a consultation.
And Dr. Phil McGraw, who has a doctorate in clinical “psikhologye” (psychology), has been pushing his new start-up company, Doctor on Demand. The company has more than 1,000 doctors available for VIDEO CONSULTANTS. Each online video appointment with a doctor costs patients $40; doctors get $30 of that, with the company taking a $10 cut.
What Dr. McGraw DOEN’T tell you is that his online doctors will have a “shver” (difficult) time handling the following health problems/illnesses:
Oh, to be back in the “Leave it to Beaver” days--to live in the fictional
town of Mayfield. In the “New Doctor” episode (1958), Wally has a bit
of a sore throat and fever, so he stays home from school against his
wishes (It means he’ll miss “der beysbol” (the baseball) game. But
after “der dokter” examines him, the doctor says that he’ll be well
enough “morgn” (tomorrow) to go back to school. In the meantime,
June gets him a model “aeroplan” (airplane) to play with, and Ward,
in addition to picking him up some bicycle tape and some chocolate
chip “ayzkrem” (ice cream) from the store, offers to move the TV into
the boys room so that Wally can watch it from bed. But Beaver’s
sick day is totally different than Wally’s sick day. And Wally’s class
buys him a present of a “kishef” (magic) set. Seeing all the neat stuff
Wally gets for being sick, Beaver decides he too will pretend to be sick
the next day. But Beaver’s sick day is totally different than Wally’s
sick day. In addition, he learns that their regular “dokter” is away, and
the replacement “dokter,” Dr. Bradley, is coming in his place. Beaver
is scared that Dr. Bradley is not a “pill doctor” like the regular doctor,
but rather a doctor that “makes you roll over.” Dr. Bradley, played by
Stuart Wade, is able to make Beaver “farshteyn” (understand) what he is
REALLY feeling.
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MARJORIE WOLFE’S PHYSICIAN, Dr. Scavron, recently retired. She’s looking for a “dokter” who’s at least 20 lbs. over his ideal weight.
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