Most of medical practice is mundane. Just a few interesting cases pass through now and then to break up the clinical routine, a rhythm that’s fine with me.
More often, patients expand my vistas by telling me about places I’ve never been and things I didn’t know and couldn’t imagine. Sometimes these tales are even more riveting than atopic dermatitis or mildly dysplastic nevi. Learning about them leaves me smiling and scratching my head. What will they tell me about next?
Dr. Alan Rockoff
“I always come to Boston around this time,” she said. “But today I actually am celebrating Swiss National Day.”
“No kidding,” I said. “What is Swiss National Day?”
“We commemorate the founding of Switzerland in 1291,” she said.
“And how do you celebrate it?” I asked.
“Well, we are Swiss,” she said, “so we work all day. Then we have a party in the evening.
“That is how it used to be anyway,” she said. “About 40 years ago, the parties on the left and right made a deal and established two holidays: Labor Day on May 1st and the National Holiday on August 1st. Now we get those whole days off.”
“Which was the end of Swiss civilization as we know it,” I suggested.
“That’s exactly what my father said when it happened,” said Valentina, with a restrained, Swiss smile. “But somehow life goes on for us, even with 2 days a year off.”
swisshippo/Thinkstock
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When I picked up his chart, I saw that my patient’s last name suggested that he hailed from one of the countries left after the breakup of Yugoslavia. We’ll call him Magovcevic.
As soon as I walked in, however, it was clear that wherever he came from was nowhere near Serbia. His features and accent were Brazilian.
“I come from Minas Gerais,” he said, “in the South, not far from Rio.”
“So how come you have a Slavic name?” I asked him.
“My parents had a different last name,” he said.
“Then how did you come to be called Magovcevic?” I asked.
“I’m in the witness protection program,” he said.
I had to hold onto the sink to stay upright. Of all the possible responses he could have made, that one was not on my list.
“Did you pick the name yourself?” I asked. I don’t think I’d ever given a thought to how family names are chosen for people in witness protection.
“No, they gave it to me,” he said. “I was still a minor.”
At that point I stopped asking questions. Whatever it was that he witnessed as a minor that landed him in witness protection I didn’t want to know about.
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Myrna was very happy to tell me that her son was doing well in college and had a good summer job.
“He works in a beer garden downtown,” she said. “The tips are great.”
“What is he studying in school?” I asked.
“Fermentation studies,” she replied.
After she’d said he was moonlighting in a beer garden, I thought she was pulling my leg. I know college students have keg parties after class, but I didn’t know they studied what goes into the kegs during class.
But Myrna was serious. “He’s interested in biochemistry,” she explained. “He wants to focus on developing better beers.”
A younger colleague whom I told about this chuckled at my perplexity. “Sure,” she said, “fermentation studies is the hot new field. Lots of people are getting into it.”
I have long since resigned myself to being clueless about what younger people are into, especially social media. But I found myself bemused at how it just never occurred to me that bright young biochemists might burn with ambition to bring the world better craft beers.
I have since learned that fermentation studies have other applications too. Like wine. And wine, like cosmetics, has been around a lot longer than dermatology.
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Skin is interesting, but the people inside it are often even more so. Who knows what I’ll run into tomorrow? I won’t even try to guess.