When I was six or seven, I hung out at my Dad’s office a lot
and rode with him on house calls. The office, on the second floor, had a
generous waiting room. The door from there opened directly into a treatment
room with a large ENT chair like a barber chair with a console for various
sprays, suctions and cauterizations. He did most everything from the chair. A
door in back, lead to his office, which included an examining table and
surgical lamp. I had my tonsils out on that table and so did a number of my
classmates. Off to the side of his office there was a hallway with an x-ray machine
and developing room.
Dad was leading edge in those days with his x-ray machine;
it must have been one of the first. The machine had four big brass globes and a
Jacob’s ladder; it made a lot of noise. The Jacob’s ladder would go ssizzzuuii
and crack as the machine built up a static charge on the brass globes. Then,
with a bang, like a gunshot, the capacitors would discharge. Electrons would strike
the copper plate and x-rays would cascade down a funnel shaped shield to expose
the x-ray film and take a picture. Dad was very scientific about this. He was
aware of the ionizing effects of radiation. He had lead shielding everywhere.
Years later, however, I worried about the Real-estate office down below.
One day while I sat waiting for him in his office chair, he
was in the x-ray room with a patient. I heard the familiar ssizzzuuii and
crack, but then there was an unusually loud bang with smoke. A black man that
looked seven feet tall with eyes the size of saucers and nothing on but an
examining gown trailing behind, came running out of the back hallway, out the
side door, down the steps, presumably, never to be seen again. Dad came out
with a sheepish look on his face clutching a fire extinguisher. – Fond memories.
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