Under ordinary circumstances, a visit to a physician in a non-emergency situation would not qualify as a reason for writing an essay. Certainly that is true on a morning when we learned that Muammar Gaddafi, the Libyan dictator, seems to have met his demise. But in this case, my visit with the learned cardiologist Andrew Beamer deserves, in my opinion, the creation of an essay. Before we are finished, I hope you will find that Dr. Beamer’s eloquent expression of gratitude for the outcome of World War II is a sufficient reason for my having dictated this essay.
On the other hand, you may say as the former overseers of the United States would say, that perhaps I have gone slightly daft in thinking that a visit to the physician’s office is worthy of an essay. Regardless of your views on such a monumental occasion, stand back and make way for an essay about a visit to the physician’s office.
The case in point involves the condition of my heart. Some 24 years ago, I underwent surgery to establish a coronary artery bypass arrangement so that I could keep breathing or living. The surgeon who performed that wonderful piece of work was named Eric Rose of the Columbia Presbyterian Hospital. The technology at that time suggested that the bypassed heart would generally last on the order of ten years. In medical speak, the word is a CABG which means coronary artery bypass graft. There usually follows a numeral, say times 4, the number of grafts that have been bypassed. Apparently Dr. Rose did a remarkable job, particularly with the technology at that stage of development some 24 or 25 years ago. The bypass grafts give me an occasion to visit Dr. Andrew Beamer twice each year to see how things are coming along. Apparently after all of these years, the bypass grafts are still in working condition. Otherwise I would not be able to dictate this monumental essay.
Curiously, my visits with Dr. Beamer are an event to which I look forward. Generally, I have no symptoms of heart trouble, so I anticipate a pleasant visit with Dr. Beamer. If my memory is nearly correct, I believe I have been visiting Dr. Beamer for nearly 20 years. He is an affable fellow, which does not obscure the fact that he is a first-rate cardiologist. On my semi-annual visits to see Dr. Beamer, I usually prepare a small outline of things that I wish to call to his attention.
Apparently this meets with Dr. Beamer’s approval because he usually confiscates the outline and I am left with only my memory of that important document. This gives me no trouble because I can create another outline, which may or may not have to do with the condition of my heart or anyone else’s heart. I would like to think that Dr. Beamer confiscates the outlines because he is impressed by the purity of the language that I have used. I take comfort from the fact that, 24 years after the bypass operation, Dr. Beamer likes to see me only semi-annually.
My visits with Dr. Beamer are generally good-humored. A person walking outside the examining room might conclude that inside the examining room there is reason for hilarity. But really it is not hilarity so much as a good-humored exchange between two men. So on my last visit to see Dr. Beamer in the middle of October, I tended to look forward to our meeting. After the examination was completed, Dr. Beamer had a few remarks to make to me. He told me that his grandfather was an infantryman in World War I. I believe that the infantry is called the Queen of Battle. It seems to me that there is a mixture of genders in that statement. In any case, World War I was the era of trench warfare. Soldiers on both sides would sit in their trenches until it was time for a charge at the opponents’ lines, during which slaughter took place. There really is no queen of battle when a slaughter takes place, as in the case of infantrymen in World War I. Apparently the diary that Dr. Beamer’s grandfather kept was meticulous. I suspect that there was enough of the carnage of battle that crept into the lines that Dr. Beamer’s grandfather wrote.
Then came an event for which I was not prepared. As Dr. Beamer finished telling me, more or less, about his grandfather, there was an eloquent expression of thanks to those of us who had engaged in the Second World War. Dr. Beamer is aware that I was involved in that war.
I was unprepared for Dr. Beamer’s eloquent expression of thanks for the efforts of the American soldiers in that war. I never expected to be thanked for that service. Simply put, it was my duty to serve my country. I expected no thanks whatsoever for merely performing my duty.
My service to the United States Army ended in 1945. After that service was completed, I tried to get on with the rest of my life, never expecting any thanks from any source. That was the state of the record until about 2007, when some Brownie Scouts here in Millburn brought me presents on Veterans’ Day for three successive years. I thought that was a wonderful tribute for which I am very grateful. It also follows that I am very grateful for Dr. Beamer’s expression of thanks for whatever I may have contributed to the war effort in World War II. I greatly respect
Dr. Beamer and his comments were more than welcome.
On completion of Dr. Beamer’s expression of thanks, he added a line. If I remember correctly, it was to the effect that had we not done what was done in World War II, we would all be speaking “the German language.” That of course is the reason for the title to this essay.
When Dr. Beamer made his remarks about the German language, my thoughts raced back to an event in about the year 2000 or 2001. It was at that time some 55 years after the war was completed that the Library of Congress thought that it was a good idea to collect the memories of soldiers who had been engaged in that war. In response to the request from the Library of Congress, I recorded a seven-minute message having to do with four St. Louisans who were killed in that war. It seemed to me that whatever I had done was small in view of the fact that four of my very close friends were killed in combat in that war. About the time that I was recording my thoughts for the Library of Congress, a new development happened. A professor at the University of Missouri wrote a paper which received wide circulation, now claiming that we were not “the greatest generation.”
So I recorded an appendage to my original thoughts. I was anxious to point out that Tom Brokaw, the NBC anchor, had named us as the greatest generation for the title of a book that he had written. We had nothing to do with calling ourselves “the greatest generation.” At the end of my appendage to my original remarks there is a reference to a professor and the fact that if we had not won the Second World War she would be using the German or Japanese language to convey her thoughts. A copy of the CD is enclosed.
As you can see, the appointment with Dr. Beamer turned in to an occasion which called for an essay to be written. I do not write essays for every visit to a physician. In this case, I thought that Dr. Beamer’s expression of gratitude for whatever we had done in the Second World War and the remarks about the German language were a sufficient reason to construct a small essay. There is not much more for me to say except that if there is a malady with your heart, there is one man, Dr. Beamer, who will try to fix it. And when he does so, take the occasion to write an essay yourself.
E. E. CARR
October 20, 2011
Essay 596
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Kevin’s commentary: Dr. Beamer certainly seems to be a stand-up gentleman. I actually think that if Pop or Judy would give me his email address, it might be worth reaching out to him to see if he has any thoughts from the other side of the doctor’s table. As it stands it seems like he’s been seeing my grandfather for quite some time, so perhaps he has some stories to tell of his own.