The Doctor

by Jonathan Schneck

The Doctor’s Prologue: There is a cerebral DOCTOR, a neurologist, spry in his older years, with his wit intact, who remains dedicated to his patients even as he is in the middle of his ninth decade. He is a humble fellow with a quiet humor and a keen mind, surprisingly mischievous but never hurtful. One would be surprised to learn that this unassuming gentleman is a widely published researcher, author of a neurology textbook and among his vast accomplishments is the isolation of the Tay Sachs gene in amniotic fluid. This gentleman’s research has led to modern day genetic counseling and testing of Ashkenazi Jews for this virulent gene. In this day, most are unaware of his academic accomplishments and he is admired by the younger generation for his humor and gentle manner, for his words are never harsh. He has thirteen grandchildren who are born of his children and is surrounded by many others who are not his progenies. The boys may be found huddled around this good man, with heads bent forward so as to not miss a word. The stories are colorful and the mothers tolerate their telling because the good Doctor flatters them and his eyes twinkle as he uses his age to his advantage, so that he cannot be held accountable for his actions. Here begins the tale of the Doctor.

The Doctor’s Tale: This is my life. It was the thirties and times were different. My grandfather was a grocer. As a boy I lived in the Lower East Side just behind the store and my grandparents lived across the street. We didn’t have much but we were happy with our portion. Back then, there wasn’t television and so we didn’t know about anything better. After school and on Sundays I worked in the store. I started to work when I was around 9 years old and since that time I have always worked. When I wasn’t working, I would hang out with my friends. In that time the neighborhood was segregated; on one side of the Williamsburg Bridge were the Italians and on the other side were the Jews. I joined the Jewish gang and my closest friends were Sam who is now an attorney; Charlie who became a furniture salesman; and Arnold Schuster who was killed for fingering the infamous bank robber Willie Sutton. The three were also my schoolmates; they were among the most intelligent in the class but not particularly industrious, and though they achieved high marks, they were better known for their shenanigans. When I was eleven, I became the leader of my gang. This is because I fashioned a weapon by combining three or four zip guns creating a sort of machine gun that shot out linoleum that we cut into squares and used as ammunition.

During the Depression, my grandfather would give our neighbors food on credit. Most of his customers were Jewish and for the holidays, he made sure that everyone had food. He kept track of the credit on brown paper bags, and that was how it was done. Then an A & P opened up down the street – that’s the Atlantic & Pacific market. The same folks, who were on credit, began shopping at the A & P down the street to save a couple of pennies. This forced my grandfather out of business and so we moved. That is how it was.

My family moved to Brooklyn, 44^th and 8^th, where we lived over a candy store. My father was a union organizer and he also ran numbers. One of my high school teachers placed me in charge of research on fruit flies and this stimulated my interest in science. My mother was convinced that I had the potential to become a doctor.  In the 1940’s it was pretty common for the local high schools to administer an aptitude test that would help students decide on a future job or career choice. I was eager to take the test as I had my doubts about whether I had the skill set required to become a physician. Corroborating my doubts, the test results revealed that I did not have the attributes necessary to become a physician and I was counseled to pursue a career as a forest ranger. You can imagine that my mother was not too thrilled with the idea of me becoming a forest ranger. She took the test results from the assistant principal and tore the paper to shreds exclaiming, “What the heck do they know!”

I was drafted into the army when I was 18. But those stories are for another time. After I received an honorable discharge from the army, I went on to Brooklyn College. In my senior year, my organic chemistry professor recommended me for a research position at New York University Medical School. There I worked with Yeudfreund and Keston who developed PIPSYL, p-iodophenylsulfonyl-chloride, a radioactive tracer to measure brain metabolism. Dr. Yeudfreund encouraged me to medical school and because of his endorsement I received a scholarship to attend Chicago Medical School. 

A decade and half after taking my high school career aptitude test, I had just passed the neurology boards, and was vacationing with my wife and young children at Yellowstone National Park. Back then I smoked cigarettes, a habit that I picked up from the streets of the Lower East Side and my days in the army. It was time to set up the barbeque for dinner and I generously poured my lighter fluid on the charcoal briquettes. I used a lit cigarette to kindle the glistening black coals. Just then the wind kicked up and the flame was blown in my direction.  Reflexively, I kicked the grill away, and the contents fell onto the ground setting the grassy area aflame and igniting a tree. The forest park rangers ran to my assistance and ably extinguished the flame. While the flames were dying down I reflected back to my high school years and realized that I was definitely not cut out to become a forest ranger.