The hole in my head

Ok, I have a hole in my head. That's not news to anyone who knows me very well but none the less, I have a REAL hole in my head. It's where my right eardrum use to be. That's right, my eardrum is toast. In fact, it drains alot and the stuff smells like skunk mating perfume. Yuck!

My GP set up an appointment with an ENT who may have to set up surgery with an ear specialist who specializes in doing this type of surgery. Duh?

No wonder medical care is so expensive. One little skunk smelling hole and three doctors have, or will, get their cut. Where is Dr. Dorsey when you need him?

Who is Dr. Dorsey? Well, back in about 1949, he was my family's doctor. In fact, he spotted polio in me in time to do something to save my little life. Pretty cool, huh. If it wasn't for Dr. Dorsey, you wouldn't be reading this right now.

He did everything. My dad drove him through the snow in the trusty Miller Motor wrecker in order to get him to a farm lady who was in labor. He stitched. He cut. He knew. He went to bedsides and helped the sick recover and the dying go in peace. I wrote about him in my book, A Visit to Hartington. *Shameless plug*

Today, it take a staff of doctors to do what good 'ole Dr. Dorsey did. And he went out to see folks.

I wonder what he would have done about the hole in my head? I imagine he would have looked at it and sent me to Sioux City to see a specialist.