Doctors

On occasion, when I try to imagine what more palpable greatness, however modest, I might have made of my life, I wonder if I could, or ought to have, been a doctor. My wife thinks probably not, on the grounds that I am not by nature caring or reassuring to people whom I don't find personally interesting. This is true, but it does not seem to be a decisive factor in whether people become physicians or not. It is also true that I do not have a great passion for the field of medicine as a subject of study, and of course even less for the business/ administrative aspects of it which require a lot of attention. I would not have had any interest in being a nurse or a technician or a certified assistant if I didn't have what it took to be an M.D, as I might have been persuaded to aim for an inferior but professional position within the university system, or some calcified but staunchly respectable branch of the arts if I had ever felt wholly at home in those environments. Due to, in varying degrees, social, economic, educational and, for lack of a better word, philosophical distance, I have not been able to strike up any connection with, nor consequently been able to like, almost all of the doctors I have known. This was true even when I was a child. That said, physicians as a group appear to me to have overall a better general education and more genuine and serious humanistic interests outside of their careers than members of most other well-regarded professions, such as law, politics, and business, and of course compared to their adjutants in the field of medicine stand out so starkly in these regards as to make really for a rather depressing contrast; or perhaps it is just that the achievement and status of being a practicing doctor automatically lends legitimacy and seriousness to those other interests that people with nothing obviously important to do cannot project.

The other great point about doctors, male ones anyway, is that many bourgeois women, particularly those married to less substantial men, love them, really love them. This carries more weight with me in my current than I would have thought, I think because, especially now that I have children, it has become an unavoidable part of the environment in which I have to move. I do not know to what extent these women I am talking about are overcome with actual lust at the sight of a stethoscope, or the Lexus SUV that often accompanies it, though they certainly give that impression, at least in comparison to the way they respond to lowlier mortals. Their tones take on a decided note of deference, even mild awe, when they are talking to or even about an M.D., and often this attitude of respect is extended to his wife and children as well. Before I am accused of being consumed by rank jealousy I would remind you that we are talking mainly about soccer moms, teachers, sincere churchgoers, most of whom are well into their thirties, have several children, and socially are probably a hundred times more concerned with keeping up appearances than I am. Nonetheless they are about my age, of my generation, they were young when I was young, I wanted them to like me then and they didn`t, and I still would like it if they could bring themselves to like me a little bit now, though the pain is certainly must less than it used to be. Also these people are in many cases in positions to influence and make judgements about my own children, and I see already some disturbing trends in this area. For one, there is the difference, very slight but palpable, regarding the confidence entrusted in my children`s intelligence/probability of success versus the offspring of the doctors or the guy who went to Harvard (I know it is a cliche, but it is a quite accurate one, that if somebody went to Harvard you will discover this within five minutes of meeting them; in the instance I am referring to it was absolutely the case). I suppose this is only natural, especially given the nature of our society as presently constituted, but it still caught me off guard how deeply people`s certainty is about rather fine distinctions between children based on their parentage. But then indeed I feel something of the same thing in reverse. We have intelligence, a rather strange and unformed variety of it in our lineage, yes, but somehow at bottom we don`t understand how the game works, any of the many games worth getting in on, and how is that cycle to be broken?

At such times I look to the example of the ex-boxer and Rhode Island cult hero Vinny Pazienza for inspiration. Pazienza was a good fighter who had a number of shots at the big time stars of his time (late 80s-mid 90s) but always lost in lopsided decisions. He cultivated an image as a tough, game fighter who could absorb lots of punishment, take innumerable punches to the head, etc, which is better than being known as a coward, but not quite as desirable as actually winning big fights. Pazienza was noted for his trash talking. One of my favorites quotes from him was when, in response to a rival who had taunted him for being ugly on top of numerous other deficiences, he said `Yeah? Well if I`m so ugly, then you tell me how it is I`m dating a Penthouse centerfold.` To me his greatest claim to fame was that he was the star of perhaps the greatest television commercial of all time. This is probably on Youtube somewhere but I will try to describe it. Pazienza was nearly killed in a car accident sometime around 1987 and couldnt fight for a while. But like all true boxers, he eventually made a comeback. This was the ad for that comeback:

(Grainy image of Pazienza being carried on a stretcher wrapped head to toe in a full body cast with a neckbrace and one of those wire things around his head)
Voice: November 15, 1987(?)--Providence, Rhode Island--Vinny Pazienza was involved in a near fatal automobile accident--He was in a coma for six weeks--He suffered a broken vertebrae--two collapsed lungs--his jaw needed to be completely rewired--He was blind for six months--It was nearly a year before he was able to walk--Doctors said he would never fight again.

(Sarcastically): What do doctors know about the heart of a man like Vinny Pazienza?

You tell em Vinny.