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One
Of The Good Guys
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 Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko at Pexels. |
I don't get sick very often, but when I do, I yearn for Doc Applegate. Dr. Steven Applegate to be more precise. I first met him when I came down with a serious infection in Feb. of 1989.
He was my wife Donna's doctor and I had never met him. When Donna came home from work that Monday, she took one look at me and said, "We're going to the hospital right now."
So we did and I was admitted immediately and spent three days bordering on the precipice and Doc Applegate reeled me back in after ten days and I was able to go home. I was very weak and it took me a couple of months to get all the way back. I had been bombarded with antibiotics, avoided sepsis and survived thanks to the diligence of Doc Applegate.
He came to see me, waking me up every morning at about 5:00 am and yakking at me for a few minutes. He was a very fast talker and he would wake me from a sound slumber with a bright light in my face, talking a mile a minute, and after he left I would lay there and wonder, "What just happened?"
I figured, if it was important, he would tell the nurse.
But he got me through it and I continued to see him for the next nineteen years. He was a kind, very caring man who ran a private practice in Middletown, KY. He arose very early every morning and went to see patients in the hospital, in nursing homes and even in their homes. If a feeble patient came to him, he would grab his stethoscope and go out to the car to treat them.
He had a wry sense of humor once you got to know him and he would always "squeeze you in" the schedule if you had an urgent need that day. I recall him telling us about a patient who was traveling out west despite the Doc's warning that he was too ill to make the trip. He told Donna and me, "I won't be a bit surprised if that guy comes home in a pine box," and grinned mischievously.
He constantly tried to get me to stop drinking beer. I believe he was a teetotaler. You know what a teetotaler is, don't you? That's a person you never catch drinking. I finally got him to grudgingly admit that two brews a night wouldn't kill me, and we were fine after that.
I remember hearing the news that he had been diagnosed with ALS, Lou Gehrig's Disease. It was a stunning blow. I didn't want to believe it, but it soon became apparent that something was definitely wrong.
It was very sad and tough on his patients, because you could see his physical condition deteriorating with each visit. It was heartbreaking, but he kept cheerfully treating patients, even when he was in a wheelchair and unable to write or personally examine you. He would instruct a nurse what to do and proceed with business.
Then came the inevitable day when we got the letter thanking us for being his patients and reading with dismay where to look for another doctor.
They
say it is usually about two to five years between being diagnosed and
dying from ALS and that was close. Doctor Steven Applegate, one of
the good guys, passed away at age 54 on Dec. 6, 2008, leaving a wife
and four children. The last of a breed. We miss you Doc.