When I think about films in the early 1990s, a cinematic monologue that sticks out in my mind comes from a scene in the thriller, Malice, in which a respected surgeon, played by Alec Baldwin, is asked during a legal deposition whether he has a “God complex.”
He responds:
I have an M.D. from Harvard. I am board certified in cardiothoracic medicine and trauma surgery. I have been awarded citations from seven different medical boards in New England; and I am never, ever sick at sea. So I ask you, when someone goes into that chapel and they fall on their knees and they pray to God that their wife doesn't miscarry, or that their daughter doesn't bleed to death, or that their mother doesn't suffer acute neural trauma from postoperative shock, who do you think they're praying to? Now, you go ahead and read your Bible, Dennis, and you go to your church and with any luck you might win the annual raffle. But if you're looking for God, he was in operating room number two on November 17th, and he doesn't like to be second guessed.
You ask me if I have a God complex? Let me tell you something: I am God.
I remember that last line cracking up my college roommates and me, the first time I heard it. But I also remember thinking that the perspective, as overly-dramatic as it sounded, carried some weight. Medical doctors, in the view of many, perform miracles. They’ve worked very long and hard to develop their skills and get to where they’re at, they do immeasurably important work, and they save and change lives.
I’ve long respected those who work in the medical profession, but not until the last decade or so have I fully appreciated, and stood in awe of, how truly remarkable these people they are. They gave my son a second lease on life, they removed my wife’s cancer, and their work is keeping my father alive right now.
In recent years, I’ve spent countless hours in doctors’ offices, emergency rooms, hospital rooms, and waiting rooms. I’ve learned far more about medical conditions and medical treatments than I ever wanted to. My admiration for the field extends from the most brilliant of surgeons to low-level orderlies (who deal with messes most of us wouldn’t), and I never miss an opportunity to tell all of these people, “Thank you.”
While I’ve met a couple of individuals in the medical profession who I could easily imagine (behind closed doors) delivering the Baldwin speech, the overwhelming majority have been kind, compassionate, and yes — humble. Of course, as with any other profession, there are bad apples in the bunch. Still, I find myself reflexively defensive of these folks, and incredibly appreciative of their contribution to society.
Part of me even wishes I would have pursued a medical career of my own when I was a young man.
But today, I just wanted to express a little love for these people (who I see often), and thank any of my readers who work in the medical profession. You’re heroes as far as I’m concerned.
Odds & Ends
After last week’s Daly Grind newsletter, someone asked me if I had a chance to get in any sightseeing on my Washington DC trip. I did, indeed… but only for about an hour (just long enough to take some decent pics as the sun was setting).
It may be “the swamp,” but the monuments and history are magical.
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Random Thought
Obligatory Dog Shot
It’s a hard life.
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