--Abe Lemons
NEW YORK CITY -- Doctor Oscar London continues to defend his claim to be the World’s Best Doctor by explaining the 57 rules he follows.
His Rule No. 4 is: Don’t call me “doctor”; don’t call me “doc.’
London admits he becomes “apoplectic” when a new receptionist refers to him as “Doctor” instead of “Doctor London.”
“Doctor is tied up at the hospital and will be a little late.”
“Doctor will see you now.”
“Doctor wants you to make another appointment in June.”
In his own explanation, Dr. London thinks this reverential use of “Doctor” is a throwback to an age when physicians had little more to offer patients than a mega-dose of holiness--when an ethereal stench of sanctimony pervaded their office.
“Doctor will be with you in time.”
“As far as I’m concerned, “ he explains, “the high and mighty “Doctor” has no place in an up-to-date, down-to-earth medical office.
“At the risk of being stuffy, I must confess to being less than overjoyed when a patient calls me ‘Doc.’ I realize that ‘Doc’ is often used as a term of endearment. But to me, ‘Doc’ is what you call an excellent poker player who never went to medical school and what you call the town drunk who did.”
Dr. London says “Doc” is what Bugs Bunny calls Elmer Fudd.
“Doc” also sounds too much like “duck,” a species of fowl that goes, “quack-quack.”
To sum up, “Doctor” is not pleased to be called “Doc.”
He continues: “While we’re on the subject, I make a point of addressing Ph.D.’s as “Doctor” unless instructed not to. They earned their doctorate; I earned mine. In my neck of the medical woods, there are so many Ph.D.’s and physicians per capita that everyone seems to be calling each other “Doctor.”
“I few years ago, I hired a receptionist who had earned a Ph.D. in botany,” he narrates. “She once informed me, ‘Doctor London, doctor Shapiro’s wife, Doctor Gottlieb-Shapiro, is calling you from Doctor Mishkin’s office.’ ‘Thank you, Doctor Oglethorpe,’ I replied to the receptionist.”
“I had to let her go. She may have had a Ph.D. in botany, but she let all the plants in my office die,” Dr. London adds. “Besides, we were doctoring each other to death.”
(The author, who is now based in New York City, used to be the editor of two local dailies in Iloilo)
NEW YORK CITY -- Doctor Oscar London continues to defend his claim to be the World’s Best Doctor by explaining the 57 rules he follows.
His Rule No. 4 is: Don’t call me “doctor”; don’t call me “doc.’
London admits he becomes “apoplectic” when a new receptionist refers to him as “Doctor” instead of “Doctor London.”
“Doctor is tied up at the hospital and will be a little late.”
“Doctor will see you now.”
“Doctor wants you to make another appointment in June.”
In his own explanation, Dr. London thinks this reverential use of “Doctor” is a throwback to an age when physicians had little more to offer patients than a mega-dose of holiness--when an ethereal stench of sanctimony pervaded their office.
“Doctor will be with you in time.”
“As far as I’m concerned, “ he explains, “the high and mighty “Doctor” has no place in an up-to-date, down-to-earth medical office.
“At the risk of being stuffy, I must confess to being less than overjoyed when a patient calls me ‘Doc.’ I realize that ‘Doc’ is often used as a term of endearment. But to me, ‘Doc’ is what you call an excellent poker player who never went to medical school and what you call the town drunk who did.”
Dr. London says “Doc” is what Bugs Bunny calls Elmer Fudd.
“Doc” also sounds too much like “duck,” a species of fowl that goes, “quack-quack.”
To sum up, “Doctor” is not pleased to be called “Doc.”
He continues: “While we’re on the subject, I make a point of addressing Ph.D.’s as “Doctor” unless instructed not to. They earned their doctorate; I earned mine. In my neck of the medical woods, there are so many Ph.D.’s and physicians per capita that everyone seems to be calling each other “Doctor.”
“I few years ago, I hired a receptionist who had earned a Ph.D. in botany,” he narrates. “She once informed me, ‘Doctor London, doctor Shapiro’s wife, Doctor Gottlieb-Shapiro, is calling you from Doctor Mishkin’s office.’ ‘Thank you, Doctor Oglethorpe,’ I replied to the receptionist.”
“I had to let her go. She may have had a Ph.D. in botany, but she let all the plants in my office die,” Dr. London adds. “Besides, we were doctoring each other to death.”
(The author, who is now based in New York City, used to be the editor of two local dailies in Iloilo)
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