|
David Mitchell
Okay then,,,I guess this is later.
And unacustomed as you all know I am to posting stories on this Forum,, here is a small world story about a (former) nun that I met.
To set the scene, I grew up with a fairly close connection with my school buddy John Jackson and his family. We shared a classroom, a stamp club, our first trip to a major league game in Cleveland with our dad's (Herb Score pitched against Whitey Ford !), grade-school basketball team, and many good conversations walking home from school (every damn day for 8 years!) up East Schreyer Place with Tom Litzinger. Some of those conversations were epic - often about the recent episode of "You Asked For It", "The Ed Sullivan Show", the latest hits on WCOL, or (as I mentioned once before) serious topics like Lucas and Havlicek, or serving Mass with Father Foley.
But John and I both shared something even more serious in common - the daunting task of helping our parents raise two older sisters. Now John's older sisters suffered from the same academic deficiencies as John did. I doubt seriously if any of the three, Liz, Anne, or John ever got a mere "A" in school. They had to suffer through a life of nothing but straight "A+'s" in every subject they took.
I know what you are thinking - It's Sad.
(and I still have questions about how Mike Yarborough was our Valadictorian instead of John Jackson or Jeanine, or Theresa Zeyen or Steve Hodges??? - - to borrow a phrase we'll be hearing from Hollywood after tomorrow night - could the 'Acadamy' be rigged?)
And John's oldest sister Liz (friend and classmate - at OLP and St. Mary's of the Springs - with my middle sister Jeanie) was especially challenged. She became a Dominican Nun and from there only managed to graduate Medical School. Then later she became a rather renowned psychiarist, running (if I recall correctly) a special mental hospital near Boston for Priests and Nuns with psychiatric issues. Years later I heard she had left the convent and that hospital, and her life found its way back to Columbus, doing, I knew not what. *(John, feel free to correct my facts - or my spelling)
Fast forward.
In 1984, still in Denver, I had contracted a lung conditon (sarcoidosis), which has no cure but is (or was) not terribly serious if you are a female of any color, or white male. But black men, not so good. Bernie Mack (black comedian) died of it as do may black men. We had moved back to Columbus a few years later and I was visiting a little OSU out patient clinic up near Henderson and Reed Road. My Sarcoidosis was acting up and this freindly young Korean Ameriacn OSU doctor was examining me. He was saying, "We'll have to take new X-rays and we need this test and,,,, I said, "Hold on there, I can't pay for any of this." He aked if I had any insurance and I said "No". Then he asked, "Are you by any chance a Veteran"? I said "Yes. Why do you ask?" And then he explained that could go to the VA clinic near downtown and get all this for free. Something I had never considered.
I said "Isn't that for poor old homeless guys with beards (which I wore myself in Denver for several years) and emboidered baseball caps?" He said that it was not and that he highly reccommended it, and restated that I needed to get some of this stuff done soon, regardless.
I thought about it for about a week and then called the VA office. they told me to bring iin my "DD-214" (the one-page military service record that serves for every VA benfit you migh ever apply for). I went down to the "Chalmers Wylie (spelling?) VA Health Center" and walked in late one Friday afternoon. Almost a vacant lobby at that time of day on a Friday. The male nurse at the desk asked for rmy paperwork and told me to wait. When he came back out to me he explained that my application would be filed and they would send me a notice soon when I was officialy "in the system" and could begin to make appointments. But then he caught me of guard with a question. "Would you like to see anyone up in "mental health while you are here?" Slighty offended, I shot back "mental health - what on earth for?" He explained that they are required to ask that and suggested I might go up stairs and just make contact with someone "as long as you're already here."
Something inside me told me to go ahead. I got off the 4th floor elevator and found a nurse who told me there was only one member fo the staff still there but she would go check for me. She came back and led me around into an office where a lady Doctor in a white coat (so familar from my days tagging behind Dad at his office or the clinic at OSU Hospital). (Finish the sentence Dave. - sat at her desk.) I sat opposite her at her desk and she began to interview me.
Let me state here that although I cannot remember a name for 5 minutes, I usually recall a face, and almost never forget a voice. As the doctor spoke I began to feel something odd, something strangely familiar about this woman. It was her voice mostly, but the face also seemed,,, well after a minute or two I glanced at her name tag, which read; "Elizabeth Jackson M.D."
I nearly jumped out of my chair and blurted out "Liz! It's me, Dave Mitchell, John's school buddy!"
She immedaitely responded "Oh my Gosh yes! David how wonderful to see you!
---------------------
Forgive me but now this gets a bit personal - but I believe, worth sharing
We spent a several minutes catching up a few personal details but she wanted to continue to interview me as she had to leave shortly. She got a thumbnail sketch of my military history, actually going deeper into my experience than anyone had ever done - all in ablut 20 minutes. I had never allowed myself to open up to any one like this before (except Mary), and I was feeling a bit nervous. But I knew this was someone I could trust. My uneasiness must have shown, because she said something that was the beginning of a change in my life that was by then, long overdue.
She stared at me and said in a rather firm voice, "David, I can see that you are in trouble and you need to get back in here as soon as possible. I can't be the one to see you, but I will schedule you with someone who will be able to help you. But you have to promise me you'll come back." I did so and it was a very helpful beginning. Just a week later, was 9-1-1, and I started having some terrible "reactions". I went "running" back into that clinic a day or so after 9-1-1 and walked into a jam packed lobby full of men - including those "old guys with beards and embroidered baseball caps". As I walked into that 4th floor lobby, Doctor Liz walked through the crowd and saw me. She came over to me and said, "David, I'm so glad you came. She then turned half way and gestured with her arm as if to point out the crowd of people, and said, "See, they are all "your guys" - meaning Vietnam Vets - an d all having "reactions" from 9-1-1. This was the beginning of something helpful in my life.
-------------------------
A few years later I moved to Bluffton and it took me 14 months to get my records transferred to the VA hospital in Charlseton, SC - the mother ship to about six states in this region of the VA system. This area is just so loaded with Veterans and they are always behind. But I began to see a young girl psychiatrist (younger than my own kids) who had a very familiar pair of certificates on her wall. One said she was graduate of THEE Ohio State University undergrad, and the other said she was a graduate of THEE Ohio State University Medical School. I tell ya, they are everywhere down here!
And for my lung thing, I have become a good friend to my young VA "primary care" doctor who is a young Yugoslav immigrant with a Korean wife - a super nice and intersting guy about my kids age. And he is going through a renewal of his own Christian faith - while working to convert his dad, a former Communist party officer in Yugslavia (now lliving in New Jersey), who is not buying this "Jesus stuff" from his own son.
Ain't it a fascinatin" world?
|
