Goodbye, Dr. Deblase

When my daughter was about four years old, she went through a time where she was having frequent nosebleeds; I don't really know why; perhaps because, like most little kids, she picked her nose.  Usually I'd have her lie down and be quiet, and the nosebleed would stop.

One day, though, the profuse bleeding would not stop, and I became worried; I called my mom and asked her to pick us up and take us to the local doctor, who had just opened up a clinic in Oak Grove.  Once Rachel and I were in an exam room, younger-than-me Doctor DeBlase came in, asked what the situation was, and rather gruffly showed me where to apply pressure to my daughter's nose (up around the bridge of her nose, I believe).  Then he stated, "Anyone can stop a child's nosebleed; it's not hard."

And he went on to another exam room to see another patient.

I sat there obediently holding on to Rachel's nose for at least forty-five minutes; when he finally returned, he said, "OK, you can stop.  It should be all right now."

  
As soon as I took my hand away, the nose started gushing again.  "Ha," I thought, "that's what you get for being so short with me."  He then cauterized a place inside my daughter's nose, which stopped the bleeding. 

 
Down through the years after that, there were various doctors we patronized, but I always remembered that young smart-aleck who had tried to brush me off.  
As old age approached and I realized I needed a regular family doctor, I went back to Oak Grove Medical Clinic, but I chose Dr. Deblase's partner as my physician.  No way was I going back to that punk who had been so rude to me thirty years earlier.  It never occurred to me that the man might simply have been having a bad day. 

 

Then my husband had a four-way heart bypass, and I said, "Cliff, I think you should use Dr. Deblase as your primary-care doctor now; he's had a heart attack himself, and I think that would make him more sensitive to your needs."

  
Oh my goodness, how glad I am that I came up with that idea, because Dr. Deblase was as sweet and caring a man as you would ever want to meet.  On our visits, we'd swap motorcycle stories:  the good doctor rode a Harley, we had our Honda.  He regaled us with stories of riding to Sturgis, and told us of times he shipped his bike to the west coast so he could ride out there.  His wife didn't really enjoy riding, he told us.

  
One time we were discussing Cliff's Lipitor (don't ever stop taking it, he said) and Doc talked about a new study that hinted at some possible new benefits of the drug; he looked at Cliff and said, smiling, "We're going to live forever!"

  
Unfortunately, he was wrong.  A couple of years ago, he woke up one morning and couldn't feel his legs. 

 
I never saw Dr. Deblase after he was diagnosed with brain cancer, but I inquired about him when Cliff and I visited the clinic; I could tell by the answers I was given that he was going downhill.  Yesterday Cliff was scanning through a two-week-old copy of The Odessan and saw the obituary; even though we had expected the news for some time, it hit us like a ton of bricks.  

I've spent some time reading the doctor's guest book; he left his mark on a lot of lives.  Dr. Joseph Deblase, you will be missed more than you'll ever know.  You were a prince among men.  Rest in peace.  

medications and prescriptions 101

This is going to be an exceedingly boring entry, since it's about prescription medications. If you like, just skip the whole entry and I'll sum it up like this: Pay close attention to any prescriptions your doctor might write for you or your spouse.

I don't know what it's going to be like if and when I ever go on prescription medications. It's already confusing, just dealing with Cliff's.

Ever since his open heart surgery, he's taken three prescription meds: Lipitor, Niaspan, and Metroprolol. This combination must work well, because his blood pressure stays remarkable low, with consistant readings around 112/70.

Right after surgery, he started taking two 50 mg Metropolols daily: one in the morning, one in the evening.

About six months ago at his regular appointment, Dr. D. looked over the list of meds and said, "How would you like to take your Metropolol only once a day, with all your other pills?"

Sounded good to us, so we took the new prescription to the pharmacy and got him started on that. I didn't realize it at the time, but it's a time-release pill.

When it was time for Cliff's next appointment (he has to go every three or four months for blood work), Dr. D. was unavailable. He's had brain surgery. Cancer. I doubt he'll ever be back; he was old enough to retire anyhow (our age).

So I suggested we try the new, young doctor. I wish now I hadn't, because the nurse-practitioners there are super, and so is the other doctor, Dr. G. I don't think there would have been any mixup with them.

I asked young Dr. H. if he'd write a new prescription for Metropolol so we could get a three-month supply at one time.

From the doctor's office, I went directly to the pharmecy; that's when I noticed the "2x daily".

He must have glanced back too far on Cliff's history and given him the old 50 mg pills, right? That's what I assumed.

So, although I had the druggist file that prescription, I asked him to fill the time-release 100 mg one instead, for one month. Because one pill a day works better for us.

Yesterday, since Cliff was down to one Metropolol, we went to get a refill. Pharmicist says there's been a problem getting the timed-release ones, and they can't fill it.

"Oh well, you have another prescription on file for two a day; just give us that one, because he's totally out; he only has one left."

Seemed like a nice, simple fix. Until I got home and realized these were 100 mg, not time-release, and they were to be taken twice a day.

I've been on the phone once with the pharmacy and twice with the doctor's office, and I've finally gotten it straightened out.

Had I doled these pills out to Cliff, he would have instantly doubled the amount of Metropolol he's been taking for three years.

I can still use them, I'll just have to split them in half. And he'll be taking two doses daily again.

I sure do miss Dr. D.

An ailing doctor

I called the doctor's office to make an appointment for Cliff: his regular three-month checkup and lab work (to make sure Lipitor isn't destroying his liver). I asked for Dr. D., and was told, "He's still on medical leave."

I didn't know if I should ask about the medical problem or not; my brain went into high speed, and first I said, "Well, then Dr. G. will be fine."

"There will be quite a long wait, then."

No surprise there. Everybody loves Dr. G. He wrote the book on bedside manner.

I was about to ask for a nurse-practitioner when I recalled seeing a new, young doctor in the halls of their offices, last time we were there. In the back of my mind, I was doing some fast thinking about how both Dr. G and Dr. D are getting on in years. Maybe we'd better be getting to know the new generation.

"How about that new, young doctor? He'd be fine with us."

So Cliff has an appointment with young Dr. H next week. I did get up the nerve to ask what's wrong with Dr. D. Turns out he woke up one morning and couldn't move his left leg. Tests were done, and they found out he had a brain tumor. He must have done some research that made him choose to have surgery out on the west coast, in California. He's now recuperating, back home in Missouri.

We never know what tomorrow will bring, do we?

On a side note: My Blogger friend who lives in Singapore is concerned about his dad's health. He would appreciate any prayers and positive thoughts sent his way.