Sifoddling Along

By Marilyn Carnell

This is a true story, except the names have been changed.

My brother, Simon’s practice as a country doctor in the Ozarks was often like flying a plane – hours of boring routine care for colds, poison ivy, prescribing a tourist’s forgotten birth control pills or removing a wayward fishhook. But something unexpected could make things go sideways. A crisis, usually involving a lot of blood, had to be handled. There were no second chances.

One morning, a very unusual thing happened. The seldom-used back door flew open. Two men stepped inside and pointed their automatic rifles at the staff and patients in the open area. "That sumbitch nearly kilt my son, John, here when he took out his appendix. Then he had the nerve to send him a bill!”

Hearing the ruckus, Simon walked into the situation and eased behind the nurse’s waist-high cubicle. From the corner of his eye, he saw his partner, Dr. Ewing, slip into an examination room and softly close the door. Shit fire. he thought. Now it was solely up to him to deal with this problem.

He kept a loaded pistol in the desk drawer. It was to his left, and of course, he was right-handed. It was a common practice for local businessmen to have a pistol handy. The pharmacy in the clinic meant there was always a chance of a drug robbery. Despite being a crack shot, he knew that using his left hand meant he had to shoot to kill, so he chose a different path.

Simon was a Marine and he knew the men well, so he channeled his old drill instructor and shouted at them. “You bastards don’t be stupid. Put down the GD weapons right now! I mean it. Put the f****g guns on the floor and step away from them.” He had to repeat himself before they reacted.

Apparently used to following orders, they obeyed. The sheriff arrived and took charge. The crisis was over.

The cowardly partner sent for his possessions the next day. He knew better than to face Simon.