The $100 loan and other distinctions
In 1998 I needed a major surgery. I had been ill for almost a year then. No insurance, no money, no family.
I had a magazine that was just sitting there: I wasn't well enough to actually do the work and publish new issues. My staff long gone, I was silently dying. I was losing blood at an alarming rate, and my mind was going foggier by the day.
An advertiser of my dead magazine decided that he was going to be good Samaritan, and sent a limo to pick me up to take me to his friend who owed him a favor.
The friend, a surgeon, immediately took me to the hospital and had me admitted. I needed a surgery, but a gynecological surgery: not his specialty.
The gynecologist refused to operate on me: I was a charity case. She sent me home to die.
My advertising client found out, and sent the limousine again. The regular surgeon found a willing medical resident (a student. The hospital was a teaching hospital...) and the two of them, two
No comments:
Post a Comment