MEMOIRS OF
CLINTON E BRUSH, MD
     BY CLINTON E BRUSH
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BERT BRUSH wrote 92 manuscript pages on a manual typewriter at the age of 98, and this is their first public appearance. Check back in the coming weeks and months as we delve deeper into his life, in his own words.

editor AT wanderingarmy DOT com

Chapter I: Tiny Bitter Pills <<

Chapter III: Water, In Ice, In Snow,
In The Parlor Owl, A Crystal Glass <<

Chapter X: Temiscuata <<

Chapter XIX: The Baby Not
Yet Arrived <<

Chapter XXII: How To Git Skint <<

Chapter XLIV: Little John <<

© 2008 Clinton E Brush
Chapter XXVII: The Decisions We Make

ONE OF MY LADY PATIENTS was a night alcoholic. She was a beautiful woman, the daughter of one of the most prominent families in Nashville. It was a sad sight to see her throw away her life with alcohol. She may very well have used liquor during the day, but if so she never called me then. Her calls came at 2 A.M. Sometimes she wanted me to come and give her a hypodermic to help her to sleep, but usually she just wanted to talk. When she talked, she would say the same things over and over. I slowly grew fed up with her ruining a night's rest for Ruby and myself. One night she called, and I asked if she wanted me to come see her. She said, "No. I just want to talk." So I decided to let her talk as long as she wished, laying the receiver on the bedside table, turning over, going to sleep. She never called me again. I lost a patient but it was worth it.


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