jjablkowski's blog


When I was a teenager an elderly uncle filled my ear with examples of how easy my life was compared to his. He recalled walking to school in the middle of winter, in knee-deep snow, uphill for a couple of miles, and in poor shoes. I might now sound like my uncle, bemoaning the lost virtues of the past as I write about the currently fashionable absence of family physicians from the hospital.

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Twenty years ago I had an indirect inguinal hernia repaired under general anesthesia in a surgical outpatient setting. Two hours after I woke up in the recovery room the surgeon came to my bedside and explained that I could go home, but that I should be prepared for some discomfort moving around and should expect 10% improvement as each day went by. The surgeon’s prediction proved to be true—I got better and better—but a couple of weeks later I still had quite an indurated inguinal area, which worried me a bit.

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In 1897, 8-year-old Virginia turned to her father when her friends claimed that there is no Santa Claus. The girl’s father said if New York’s Sun newspaper said there was a Santa, then it was so.

The girl wrote to the Sun, “tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?” and her letter prompted a frequently reprinted editorial by Francis Pharcellus Church, which stated, “Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exists, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy.” 

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