The House Call

 The Mesozoic period of history was the age of the dinosaurs. It ended 65 million years ago, and brought about the extinction of that huge species of reptile that had ruled this earth for hundreds of millions of years.

         About 50 to 75 years ago seems to have been the age of “characters” in and around Narrows. Sad to contemplate, but that species too is all but gone. Not one “character” do I see comin’ down the Pike. Because, sadly, they don’t make em’ anymore.

         But from that era when they flourished and were plentiful, let’s look at a few more that are borrowed from my book, “Narrows and It’s Characters”. The next one is a colorful figure from those pages and time.

         His name was Dewey Pyles, and old “Dew Drop” ( lotsa’ people called him by that handle’, in fact Dewey had many nicknames ) was a corker. He was one of those people who had to be seen and heard to be fully appreciated. Dewey could be relied on to come up with the most amusing solutions imaginable to solve problems as they reared their ugly heads. But those wild solutions worked for him. He just never did catch on to this modern-day way of living---put no reliance at all in silly, new-phangled gadgets.

         Dewey once came down with a cold; terribly sick the chap was. According to his own diagnosis, it was the “old-timey” kind of cold. Coughing, high fever, and the all-around discomfort  and suffering an old-timey cold can cause. Dewey, the unfortunate and ailing victim, was showing all those symptoms. Much too sick to leave the house, he remained confined to his bed.

         Dewey’s fever and temperature had risen so high the mercury was threatening to jump right out of that little glass vial. He was in bad shape, to the point of being delirious. No ifs ,ands, or buts about it, something had to be done and in a hurry.

         This happened back in those all-but-forgotten days when doctors still made house calls. Shucks, a sick person didn’t even need an appointment to see a member of the medical profession. Does a feller get sick by appointment? Or does he get sick any ole time? Dewey thought a strong case could be made for the latter.

         Some people, relatives and neighbors, got their heads together and decided Dewey needed some serious doctoring. Thus an old Narrows standby (called many things, i.e., Rock of granite, leading citizen, Pillar of the community, etc.) was summoned. This giant of a man , weighing 250 pounds, and who for so long and so well served the little community he’d chosen to practice his profession in, responded to their desperate pleas for help. This man was, by the way, a character in his own right.

         During his waking hours the medical man was never seen unless he was chomping on a cigar ( pronounced in those days, ceegar  ). Folks always said “he don’t smoke em’, he eats em’”. This jolly medic was an avid partaker of that fine product distributed throughout the world from Havana.

         If this man had one shortcoming it was his driving and operation of an automobile. When I espied Dr. M.C.Newton Sr. seated behind the steering-wheel of a motorized contraption and headed in my direction, I always became a bit leery. Often as not, I’d jump a hedge or fence and seek the protection of a sturdy oak tree.

         You’ve heard of rounding a curve on two wheels. Doc drove in that fashion. It was said about the kindly doctor how he’d read the “funny papers” while driving on his merry way making house calls. Parking a car was certainly not one of his strong points. When returning to his office he usually just left er’ sittin’ in the middle of the street. If this unusual practice caused a snarl in traffic (and they did ), then a group of citizens would push Doc’s Henry J. to the curb where it belonged.                                            

            This was the man called to Dewey’s home and , on arrival there, quite naturally left his blue Henry J. parked smack-dab in the middle of the dirt road. Walking to the front door, Doc pushed it open and walked on in. This famous medic never knocked on doors. And really, he wasn’t expected to. Why good gosh o’ mighty, he was called to homes because people were sick! To ensure the patient’s health and well-being it was extremely important he reach their bedside quickly as possible. How could that be if’n he wasted precious time knockin’on durn doors?

         Doc took a quick look at the mob gathered around Dewey’s bedside and said: “Howdy, how are y’awl feelin’?” Every human in there responded by stating they felt fit as a fiddle.

         Dewy, on the other hand, was a pitiful sight. Looking down at the prone figure, Doc inquired: “How you feelin’ Dewey?”

         Slowly and feebly Dewey raised himself to elbows and replied in a voice that sounded little more than a whisper: “Hell Doc, I thought you knowed . I’m a sick man! That’s what we called you up here fer”. Doc just gave out with a loud har-rumph ,took a drag off the ceegar  and told Dewey to resume a prone position.

         After a rather thorough examination it was determined that Dewey was indeed quite sick. His discomfort stemmed mainly from an acute congested state.

         Doctor M.C. Newton Sr. wanted to know if by chance there might be a jar of musterole ( cousin of Vicks Vaporub ) in the household. Told the affirmative, he said: “That’s fine--- that’s fine”. The good doctor gave Dewey 9 shots, left 4 pounds of pain pills, then issued his final instructions. At bedtime Dewey was to take the musterole and plaster himself heavily with it. “ Rub it in good and heavy on your chest, Dewey” advised the medical man.

         “ Doc, I ain’t got no chest .Will a trunk do?” the ill patient whispered.

Hmm.

         The kindly doctor stared toward the ceiling, voiced an even louder har-rumph, and took a real deep inhaling of his stogie. “ Just do it the best way you can, Dewey”. It was about the only remark he could make.

         A commotion had arisen outside Dewey’s home. Car honks were blaring something awful! Doc’s car had the street completely blocked, resulting in a  vast ( for the 1930’s timeframe ) traffic jam. Several cars were trying to go in one direction, while double that number wanted to go the opposite way.

         Doc said his goodbyes, ambled out the door, apologized to each of the 7 drivers, and asked how they were feeling. I never did find out what their replies were  ( makes no difference. Couldn’t be printed here anyhow. ). Cranking up his Henry J., he was about to depart when someone appeared on the front porch and yelled: “Hey Doc, how much we owe you?”

         The pug\blic servant yelled back that the bill amounted to $2.50, but they could pay it tomorrow morning. That’s when he’d return to check on  Dewey’s progress.

         It had been a typical housecall--- a service which, to the best of my knowledge, is no longer offered the general public…

The End

M.L. Wilkinson

July, 1982