medicine.”
“And what happened after the medical part was finished?”
Dad frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“When Grandpa finished examining someone, what did he do?”
He became quiet.
I knew he remembered.
Grandpa’s house calls always took forever.
The diagnosis might take ten minutes.
Then he would spend another forty showing someone’s spouse how to position pillows properly.
Writing medication schedules in giant letters.
Explaining what symptoms required immediate help and what could wait until morning.
Dad had once told me Grandpa believed:
The appointment isn’t over just because the
