Tales from the Emergency Room by FAAAAI MD William E. Hermance Page B

stop sign. The officer walked up to my car and said, “Doc! You are going to have to obtain Missouri license plates.” He then advised me that he had seen me go by many, many times. I and my dirty car had become a source of amusement for him, but, enough was enough.
    The story continues. I arrived shortly thereafter at the DMV and stood on a long line. Finally, I got up to the counter whereupon the clerk asked if I had all my papers in order. What papers I wondered. So, I returned home, donned my formal service uniform, hat and all, and reappeared on another long line. A clerk at a station that wasn’t open spied me and beckoned me over to her place. I patted my jacket pocket when asked about my papers. Since it was apparent to her that I had no idea about “papers” she filled them out for me. She asked when I had come into the state to live and when I gave the real date she said, “Oh, no, no. That will never do.” So I gave another date about 3 months later. “Much better,” she said. I was now within the law. I was directed to the eye test area, passed that and left with a new set of Missouri plates.
    About a month later, New York State asked to have my old plates returned. I know not why. Luckily, I still had them in the trunk and mailed them back to New York. When I returned to New York, I had to do all this over again but it was not so easy without my uniform!
    The Escape
    One of the first stories I heard upon my arrival at the prison was about an inmate who escaped. He stole a car from the driveway of the house nearest to the entrance to the prison grounds. There were two cars there, a black Ford and a white sports car. Naturally, he stole the flashy car. He was finally arrested on the Pennsylvania Turnpike after the car was spotted from a police helicopter. Had he stolen the Ford, he would probably still be at large. When I asked about escapes sometime later, my Colonel noted that when one has every day for many years to think up ways to escape it is not surprising that sometimes a prisoner actually does.
    A Moving Experience
    Dr. C. was a surgeon at the Medical Center. He also ran the dermatology clinic. When he finished with each prison inmate he always said, “Go, and sin no more!” This amused all of us greatly.
    Dr. C. had been a physician in an Italian section of Boston. One night arriving home, he was so exhausted that he pushed himself up the stairs on his rear end. By the time he got to the top of the stairs he had decided to quit private practice and to join the Public Health Service. He had had a very large practice and maintained a huge house filled with antiques, oriental carpets, inlaid wooden pieces and paintings. He and his wife had no children. So, he wound up in Springfield awaiting the arrival of household goods to be installed in the very large house he would live in while at the prison. Early on we were all invited to his house for a party. I was puzzled by the fact that there was so little furniture visible. Here a chair, there a rug, an occasional lamp was all. It seemed that on the trip to Springfield, the moving van fell off a bridge into a creek. Since it was a military move, all the damage was fully covered by insurance. One can hardly imagine the cost of repairing all the furniture, but it had to be done, soaked rugs treated, veneers repaired, etc. Thus, every so often a repaired piece would arrive at Dr. C.’s house to be placed just where it was meant to go. Eventually it all got done but it took a year or more.
    A Southern Friend in a Small World
    On my very first day at the prison, the incoming group of officers was being shown around the premises. At one point I found myself alone with another doctor, Dr. Dan Dunaway while we waited for an elevator to return for us. He looked at me and said, “Did you mash da button?” It took me a moment to decipher this remark and I replied that I had indeed pushed the button. Dan’s family and ours became very good friends while we