to take care of the wound himself as he
always did. So she went downstairs where she could not be heard and
Dr. Worcester, and before long Dr. Worcester arrived with a trained
nurse, examined the injury and gave it further treatment. My
father said nothing about Dr. Van Nuys having been there;
two doctors, he thought should get him better twice as fast as
one. Next morning Dr. Van Nuys arrived and tended the dress-ings. After
he had left, the nurse said she thought Dr. Worcester was in charge.
"They both are," he told her firmly.
This was medically unethical but what could the nurse do
except hold her peace and await developments? About three
days later Dr. Worcester arrived just as Dr. Van Nuys was leaving, and
an air of tension spread over the sick room. I never knew how my father
explained, but he did and Dr. Van Nuys, being the junior of
the two men, withdrew. This pleased my mother as she had great
confidence in Dr. Worcester although my father pre-ferred Dr. Van Nuys.
Someone once asked my brother Edward, when he was a little boy, what
doctor we used. "For cuts and things like that, Dr. Van Nuys," he
replied, "and for babies and things like that, Dr. Worcester."
One summer my father came home from Europe on a boat
with Dr. Blodgett, a Boston throat specialist, and in the course
of the trip he told him about his troublesome throat condition
and the doctor recommended a tonsillectomy. My father refused
to have it done all at once — that would require several days in bed;
instead he paid weekly visits to Dr. Blodgett's office to
have the tonsils chipped away. This seemed to go on for ages. Then
one night he arrived home, his throat too sore to talk; the