MENTORS

Is it luck or is it God’s plan?  I believe it’s a little of both.  Much of what happens to you is determined by the paths you take; and, often, the path you take is determined by a mentor.  Mentors are like traffic control officers, stationed at key intersections and sending cars left or right depending on road conditions and other variables.

In modern terms, a mentor is akin to your car’s GPS.  The AI (artificial intelligence) has multiple routes it can use; and, on any given day, at any given time, it will serve up the quickest or safest route.  Your choice is to follow the prescribed route or go it on your own.

I’ve been lucky!  I’ve always looked for mentors and listened to their wisdom when offered.  My first mentor was a family doc in Norfolk.  I’ve written about Dr. Perlman (Jerome) in the past.  Jerome listened to me and treated me like an adult even when I was just 6 years old.  My earliest memories of Jerome were lying over his lap while he shot me in the buns with Penicillin.  You could be fairly confident that, if Jerome made a house call, you got a shot of Penicillin in the butt.  One in each bun if you were really sick. Geez, I hated that shot.

My thirteenth year of life was a very bad year.  I was sick, not just the sore throat kind of sick, I was major sick.  I saw a lot of Jerome that year.  I remember pulling up to and parking in front of his office at 7 a.m.  My mother would go to the front door and put our name on the list and then walk next door to the Seven Eleven for her coffee.  The office would open at 7:30; and the receptionist, Jerome’s wife, would call patients up to be seen according to the order they signed in.

Jerome would ask questions, examen me and, ultimately, send me to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore to be diagnosed as my findings were complex.  That year I peeled from head to toe (scarlet fever), turned yellow (mononucleosis/hepatitis) and slept a lot.  That was also the year I decided that I would be a doctor and work with Jerome.

I talked to Jerome throughout the years.  As it turned out, my office ran like his.  My practice paralleled his.  He treated me like family and always listened to me.  I tried to do the same for my patients.  It was a successful formula and I thanked him many times over.  He was at the right intersection at the right time and I was smart enough to follow his path.  Jerome had Parkinson’s.  That was the one path I wish I hadn’t followed.

As always, there are stories to be told.  In college, I played hard and often was not prepared for exams.  I was gifted to be able to cram a large amount of knowledge into my head at the last minute and ace the test.  One year, I was far enough behind that I needed a little medicinal help.  I called Jerome and pleaded my case.  I didn’t want to buy anything on the street and had learned my lesson.  Jerome prescribed a small amount of speed and I had my friend’s mom fill it.  (She was sweet and didn’t even charge me.)  Needless to say, I got all “As” and even had a few pills left over.

Months later, my friend asked if I had any speed as he needed to cram for an exam.  I gave him the 4 pills I had left.  He really wanted to pay me for the pills and felt forever indebted that I would not accept money.  I couldn’t tell him that his mom gave them to me.  He, too, passed with an “A.”

Neither of us ever used speed again.  Both of us continued to party but learned to set aside some time for classes and homework.  Both became doctors.

More about mentors tomorrow.

Meanwhile, here’s a joke.

Today my mentor told me if I want to achieve great things, I’d have to make sacrifices.

Anyone know where to buy live chickens for cheap?