Dodo Eggs

Dr. Peter Holms was a little like the mechanic in a small town. It didn’t matter what was the problem with your car you only had one option. It didn’t matter whether it was a bad fuel pump, worn tires, or a slight tear in the upholstery if it had to be fixed you went to the same guy. In a medical sense, Peter Holms was that guy.

To prove my point, Dr. Holms delivered my mother, my father, and me! He wasn’t an OBGYN just one of the few guys in a white coat at the clinic. He would have delivered my brother as well but Dr. Holms decided to go golfing that day so his son made the catch.

I don’t know Dr. Holms’ exact birthday but it wasn’t long after the turn of the century. Near the end of his career, the two nurses on either arm were needed to prop the good doctor up and escort him down the hallway. No doubt an important part of his bedside manner was having the pretty nurses help him stay upright.

So in high school when I needed an ingrown toenail cut out, my mother took me too…anyone but Dr. Peter Holms. She had endured the good doctor’s Civil War era style of medicine and wanted to save her eldest from such a cruel fate. A much younger practitioner whose clinic had been built after 1980 removed my nail.

Unfortunately, his work didn’t last. A little less than a year later, my toenail had regrown and was again causing a stubbed toe to draw tears. My mother was in another state so my grandmother (a Peter Holms devotee) came to my rescue.

“Dr. Holms know how to fix things like that.” My grandmother boasted. “Did you know he delivered you too?”

When Dr. Holms (a much younger eighty-something at this point) shuffled into the examination room, I was sitting on the exam bench with my tender foot outstretched off one end. One look and the doctor ordered a nurse to fetch a bucket of ice and a washcloth. Dr. Holms produced a rubber band from his pocket and with a twirl of his fingers wrapped it around the base of my big toe.

“Now keep this in the bucket of ice until I get back.” He ordered. The ice and washcloth showed up. With the exception of my big toe, the doctor wrapped my foot with the washcloth. Like unchilled Champaign, Dr. Holms jammed my foot into the bucket of ice. “I’ll be back in a while. Don’t take that out.”

(Attn reader: Please keep in mind, this story takes place in the 1990s! Not the 1890s! We have options other than ice for numbing nerves.)

The next twenty minutes were painful. I filled my mind with images of my current love interest and the video game I was doing my best to win. My grandmother sat nearby trying to occupy my mind with idle chit-chat regarding my grades. I wasn’t that interested in my grades when I felt fine! There was no way I was going to discuss Latin based prefixes and suffixes with pain marching unhindered up my leg!

Finally the good doctor returned with a handful of gauze and what are best described as the iron hedge clippers gardeners use for inch thick limbs. He took my foot out and placed it on the exam table.

“No you tell me if this hurts and I’ll just put your foot back in the ice for a while.”

My grandmother was in the room so my answer ( $#^&&&!$ that! Get this thing over with!) was kept inside. I more eloquently replied, “Yes, sir. It’s fine.”

With that, Dr. Holms, all one hundred twenty pound of him, stuck the bottom edge of the clippers under my nail and began leaning into it. Like a surprise twist in a horror movie, the gruesome scene happened too fast for me to avert my eyes. I could still feel it of course, but what was another dose of pain? My teeth clenched and I may have shed a tear or two.

A few seconds later, Dr. Holms stood up and wrapped my foot in gauze. “He’s all done. Take care of yourself son.” Then he left to return the clippers to guy who maintains his lilac bushes.

Since then, my nail has always been too scared to grow back (at least not properly).

I found out recently that Dr. Peter Holms finally retired. Three months later he died. If I’m not mistaken, they immediately packed his body in ice and shipped it to the Smithsonian. The curator’s had reserved a spot in their display, “Dawn of Medicine” just for the good doctor.

• The Doctor is…
• Handful of Nails
• The Good Old Days
• Honorary Pomp
• Snowball Effect