Dr. Foster

I like to tell of the time that I was called upon to do a minor operation at the Galt Memorial Hospital.

This story will be amusing to everyone but one of my coworkers -- George. (Last name withheld although I still remember it well.) George was the unfortunate person who needed the operation.

Over the years there were many occasions when someone had to be taken to the hospital or to a family Doctor. Sheet-metal cuts or a foreign object in the eye were the usual problems. This incident was a little more severe.

I was the first-aid attendant at Simplicity Products for the first ten years of my employment. This of course was in the old days when you were expected to do a couple of things in addition to what you were hired for -- which was assembly foreman.

One day I was paged over the intercom to report to the first-aid room. It sounded urgent from the sounds of commotion in the back-ground noises, which were being amplified over the speaker system.

When I arrived at the First -Aid station, there was George sitting in the chair. In his lap he was holding a dishwasher basket.

"What's up, George?"

Well, George was a little sheepish and said, "I riveted this darn thing to my thumb." (There may have been a couple of expletives in the Spanish language in his response, but I don't remember now.)

Sure enough, the basket was perfectly secured with a long stainless steel rivet. The rivet was designed to hold the little wheels to the basket which in turn allow the basket to roll in and out of the dishwasher; now it served a more sinister purpose.

Off to the hospital we went. Two coworkers tried to help George and one of us drove.

We eventually got him to GMH and into an examination room.

The Doctor arrived. I didn't immediately discern that this young lady was an MD. Doctors were always older men with stethoscopes hanging around their necks. This doctor was wearing a big woolly sweater with a koala bear knitted on the front. When she turned, I noted that the koala bear's backside view was knitted into the back of the same sweater.

She introduced herself, looked at George's added appendage and said, "What do you expect me to do? I'm a Doctor of Medicine. I am not a mechanic!"

I was taken aback just a bit. It never really occurred to me that a doctor would have a problem with this.

After a moments hesitation I said, "I can take it off -- if you will get the maintenance-man up here with his tool box."

Someone called the maintenance-man, while I asked a nurse for some alcohol (to steady my nerves) and the doctor gave George an injection to deaden the pain in his poor blue thumb.

Two men arrived with the tool box. We got out the vise-grip pliers and clamped the basket as steady as possible. I then found a suitable flat file and proceeded to file the head off the rivet, while the doctor washed the filings away from the njury. After a few minutes the job was done and the basket slipped smoothly off the rivet shaft.

"Great! I'll take it from here," said the young doctor -- and she did. With the skill of a seasoned professional, she finished the job.>

George was pleased and returned to work a week or two later -- none the worse for the experience.

As for me, I went back to my less exciting profession. -- I got neither the alcohol nor the chaser for my efforts.

Have a nice day.