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Vol. 67, No. 1 2016
Northeast Florida Medicine
DCMS online
. org
Creative Corner
I Spy with My Little Eye a Real GI
So, I’m giving a talk when I realize that I was flat out
lying. I told the group that my field of interest was Crohn’s.
That was true. I told them that I had no idea what causes
it or how to cure it. That was
honest. I told them that my
real field of interest was the
baseball field and if the Yan-
kees signed me, I’d ditch my
practice to go pitch batting
practice. That was accurate.
Then I told them I was a GI
from Jacksonville, Florida.
That was the lie. As soon as
I uttered the phrase, I knew
that I said something hor-
rible and unconscionable.
I said I was a GI and right
away I had a flood of humbling epiphanies.
Let’s be candid about this. I am a physician who spe-
cializes in gastroenterology, but I am not a real GI. I
don’t find pirates. I find polyps. I don’t fight Al Qaeda.
I fight GERD. I don’t eat K-rations leaning against my
tank. I eat in the safety of the doctors’ cafeteria. I am not
a GI guy. I am a toy GI. You don’t hunt down a terrorist
armed with a stethoscope and Surgi-lube. So how dare I
take their name in vain? I decided right then and there to
never say that again. I will never refer to my field as GI.
Not when there are men and women who gave and are
willing to give their life so I may live mine. I specialize
in digestive disorders. Whew! I feel better already.
As I left that talk about biologic therapy (and not biologic
warfare), I passed through the main dining room of the
restaurant. Everyone knows that medical talks are given
at Morton’s not Mass General. I like to say that the food
is fresh and only the lecture is canned at these dinners.
Anyway, I’mwalking through the steakhouse dining room
and I spy with my little eye a real GI. I asked the manager
about the man in the dress blues with the young lady in
a pretty white dress. He tells me that they’re celebrating
their anniversary. They are on a budget and only ordered
appetizers and cocktails. As I looked over my shoulder, I
saw my colleagues gorging. I gave the manager my credit
card and told him to order a full meal for the sailor and
his bride. I instructed him to tell him “Your money’s no
good here.” Like from a 1940’s movie. I thought that was
a great way to spend the money I just earned from giving
a drug company-sponsored talk. The manager took down
my card number and promised to carry out my orders.
A week later I received a thank you note from the sailor.
He sent me a picture of his nuclear submarine, along with
a coin inscribed with his crew’s insignia. He wrote that his
crewmates thought it was great to be appreciated. That
week my wife, Rhonda, and I took our boys to Steak and
Shake. Just as we finished, four soldiers sat down at the
booth next to us. I gave the waitress a hundred dollar
bill and told her to let the soldiers eat what ever they
want and she could keep the change. She told me that
her brother was in the service and she thought this was
wonderful. We quickly left and got in our car. Max and
Samuel wondered what was going on. I told them that
these soldiers protect us every moment. They protect
millions of people that they will never meet...millions of
nameless countrymen. I told them when those service-
men walk down the street now they can always wonder
if that guy over there or that woman over here was the
one who picked up their check. Now all those faceless
people have an identity.
In both instances, the waitress and the manager who
were part of the process loved participating. This is how
you share the wealth, I told our boys. They felt better
knowing they were doing a good deed. A few weeks later,
a group of soldiers came in to Maggiano’s. I asked the
manager what was the story. “One of them is retiring,” he
said. Not everyone at their table had all their limbs. My
youngest asked me “Are we going to pick up their check?”
“You bet,” I replied. We gave our card to the waiter
and off he went. The manager came over to shake my
hand. I told him to let the soldiers know it’s from their
fellow Americans for a job well done. My boys beamed.
I felt better. I may not teach them much. I learn more
from them than they do from me, but this lesson they
learned: Always remember that the dangerous work of
others allows us to play in peace.
America faces many challenges. Most of these challenges
will test our will and resolve and our values. I know we are up
to these tests. As a 54-year-old physician who specializes in
digestive diseases, I know that I amnot GI material. However,
I know my job is to try to make people feel better. I want to
challenge all of my colleagues: if you see someone in uniform,
pick up their check. Tell them their money is no good here.
Tell them “From a guy in GI to a real GI, thank you.” Trust
me, there’s no better feeling.
v
Mark Fleisher, MD