jjablkowski's blog


During my fourth year of medicine (68 years ago) my small clinical group was led to the bedside of a man recently admitted with the diagnosis of syphilis. “Remember this visit!” said our clinical instructor, “you will probably never see another patient with syphilis in your future practice.” Indeed, I have not. 

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In 1929 in my native Hungary, just about all children were born at home. I came into the world at my parent’s home, around 5 o’clock in the morning. To my mother’s relief, her labor was relatively short. She was assisted by a midwife and my two grandmothers. I don’t remember ever hearing where my father was during all that fuss, but knowing that he was a very practical man, he was probably boiling water. As it happened, my great uncle, an obstetrician, was out on a call in a neighboring village, so he missed my birth. Midwife and all, my birth was like a close family affair. 

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