The Doctor’s Home Visit in 1957
My, how times have changed
Medical care has changed tremendously from baby boomers’ youth till today – some for the better, others not so much. Roger Pierangelo compares two visits nearly seven decades apart, a doctor’s home visit and a cardiologist appointment, in From Our Readers.
Sitting in my cardiologist’s office after waiting almost two months for an appointment, I was handed 17 different medical forms to fill out to update my records. As I started filling out the first one, I was asked, “Who do you want us to contact in case of an emergency?” I thought for a minute and wrote, “A doctor.” What is my wife going to do?
When I finally finished the 17 forms, I now needed two doctors – my cardiologist and a hand surgeon.
When I was finally called in after another 40 minutes, I met with the physician assistant, who I wanted to card to see if he was over 21. After asking me another whole series of questions for about 10 minutes, he did the cursory medical tests and said the doctor would be in to see me soon.
Twenty minutes later, my cardiologist, whom I have known for 12 years, walked in and greeted me. In prior visits, before the practice was bought out by a conglomerate corporation, he would spend 35 to 40 minutes talking, reassuring me, and guiding me toward better health. Today, however, he spent seven minutes saying things I could have read on an index card, wished me well, and scheduled 21 other tests that would take me to the end of my life.
Recalling a doctors’ home visit
When I think back to growing up in the ’50s, medical experiences were very different. First, if anyone in the house was sick, the first call would be to Dr. Lefkowitz, our local MD – the only professional my Italian father trusted whose name did not end in a vowel.
I remember my mother saying on the phone that she would like him to drop by because I had what she thought might be the flu. Getting off the phone, she said, “Dr. Lefkowitz will be here in an hour” – not two months, but an hour.
My mother, who was very impressed by professionals, quickly came to my bed, where I was lying under five blankets with chills and a fever. I could hardly open my eyes, and every part of my body felt close to nonfunctioning. She said, “You must get up and take a bath. Dr. Lefkowitz is coming in an hour.”
Without blinking, I got up, took a bath, put on freshly ironed pajamas, and slid back under the brand new sheets and covers placed there by my mother while I was in the tub. As I lay under the covers all I could hear was the sound of the vacuum cleaner throughout the house.
An hour later, Dr. Lefkowitz drove up in his brand-new silver Cadillac, which seemed to take up the entire street in front of our house and looked longer than the house itself. He got out wearing a beautiful suit and tie, walked to the front door, climbed three steps, and gently knocked. My mother quickly opened the door so as not to keep him waiting and invited him in.
Dr. Lefkowitz was a rather tall man in his 50s with great stature and a very pleasant smile. My mother thanked him for coming and handed him an envelope, which I later discovered contained ten dollars.
He entered my room, sat on the edge of my bed, took out his instruments from his small black leather medical bag, and examined me with a gentle presence that made me feel safe and comfortable. As he examined me, he asked questions about the model cars in my room and what I did on weekends, never seeming to be in a rush. After about 20 minutes, he got up, gave my mother some medicine, told me I would be okay, and said to call him if my symptoms got worse.
Dr. Lefkowitz and my mother slowly made their way to the small kitchen, where she opened the refrigerator and handed him a tray of her homemade lasagna. He thanked her and mentioned how much he and his wife had enjoyed the tray of ravioli she had given him during his previous visit.
That tray of lasagna was always waiting in the refrigerator with a label on it so none of us would touch it. It was my parents’ version of supplemental medical insurance. If Dr. Lefkowitz left our house well-fed every time he came, my mother was convinced we would move to the top of his list – and she would never have to wait two hours for him to arrive the next time we needed him.
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