You Trained at Mayo Clinic? Wow!

Abstract

These were more than statementsdthey were proud pronouncements, often accompanied by accolades. As a boy growing up in rural western Ohio, it was clear tome that physicians in our small city, a county seat in a dairy heartland, were respected by most as stalwart citizens and revered by many for their extraordinary skills. They still made house calls; they prescribed sulfa drugs andpenicillin; they cast broken bones; they delivered our best friends’ baby sisters and brothers; and they operated and removed or repaired just about anything that might ail a person. In my mind’s eye, I still perceive it as a near-idyllic medical environment in which the physicians were highly supportive of the citizenry and vice versa. As kids, my brothers, friends, and I all knew of townsfolk who were sick. Small towns are like that. If people were really sick, they would go to one of Dayton, Ohio’s, big hospitals or, perhaps, even over to Ohio State University in Columbus. But if they were really, really sick or no one knew what was wrong with them, they would mystically disappear for a few weeksdto somewhere called “the Mayo.” Most of us kids did not know much about “the Mayo” or that it was more than 600 miles away. However, we did know that when someone went there, it was extra special and triggered adult discussions, often after we kids were otherwise occupied and supposedly out of hearing range. “Trained at the Mayo” was a mark of distinction that signified quality and judgment among physicians in my small city and countless other towns like them. I had faith that Mayo Clinicetrained physicians were excellent; almost everyone surely seemed to think