My father was a GP with an office on the first floor of our house, and we lived “over the store” (See Fluffy, or How I Got My Dog, Saying Farewell to a Special Guy, and Turkey and Trimmings with Flu Shot)
My dad did it all – delivered babies, took out splinters and appendix, and made house calls with his little black bag
When my father died, the doctor I was seeing – a generation younger and the junior partner of a medical colleague of my dad’s – gave me his condolences.
“It’s the end of an era.”, he said. Indeed it was.
RetroFlash / 100 Words
Dana Susan Lehrman
This retired librarian loves big city bustle and cozy country weekends, friends and family, good books and theatre, movies and jazz, travel, tennis, Yankee baseball, and writing about life as she sees it on her blog World Thru Brown Eyes!