"Cook recounts fifty years of service as a rural doctor in Texas and Nebraska, where a wide spectrum of dilemmas tested his resourcefulness, endurance, and sense of humor. His humourous account of life in the first half of the twentieth century conveys a distinct sense of the slings and arrows of doctoring on the plains". -- Jacket.

In a world of HMOs, insurance companies, and an endless flood of forms, Hull Cook reminds us that there was a time when a visit to the doctor's office cost three dollars and doctors still made house calls. Cook recounts fifty years of service as a rural doctor in Texas and Nebraska, where a wide spectrum of dilemmas tested his resourcefulness, endurance, and sense of humor. He describes helping to deliver a baby via telephone during the Blizzard of '49, and he explains his "special delivery" of medication in the dead of winter-an operation involving his Beechcraft Bonanza airplane and a p.

Have you ever had to decide what to do with an unidentified corpse by a Devonian cowshed when the herd is due in for milking? And how would you react if one of your patients was abducted by aliens? If you are a GP it seems these are routine matters. From coping with the suicide of a colleague to the unusual whereabouts of a jar of Coleman's mustard, this is the story of one rural doctor's often misguided attempts to make sense of the career in which he has unwittingly found himself. Dr Sparrow's adventures would be utterly unbelievable were they not 100% true stories. His bedside manner may sometimes leave a little to be desired but, if you're in dire straits, this doctor will have you in stitches.

Ed McTeer's mother, Florence Percy Heyward, was a direct descendant of Thomas Heyward, Jr., a signer of the Declaration of Independence. Their ancestors came to America with King's grants to large tracts of land and were among the largest rice planters in the South. The McAteers settled in Hampton and Colleton counties in the 17th Century and acquired many land holdings. The Author's great-grandparents' wills show that the "A" was dropped from their name prior to the Civil War. Given a leave of absence by Governor Thomas G. McLeod during World War Two, McTeer was appointed Commanding Officer of the U.S. Coast Guard mounted beach patrol for the Sixth Naval District. An avid hunter, fisherman, writer, poet, developer and entrepreneur, Ed McTeer was honored shortly before his death in 1979 by having a bridge across the Beaufort River named for him. The bridge stands as a symbol of the love he felt for these beautiful Sea Islands where he spend his life.

Claire Louise Caudill is one of those rare people who have become legends in their own time. She delivered more than 8,000 babies over the years, in and around her hometown of Morehead, Kentucky. In 1995 she was named Country Doctor of the Year, and she has been interviewed by CBS and featured in USA Today. Dr. Caudill stopped delivering babies when she turned seventy, but today, at the age of 86, she remains in practice- her patients won't let her retire! Her friend Susie Halbleib has served as nurse in Caudill's clinic since it opened in 1946. Caudill was instrumental in establishing a hospital in Morehead and for more than fifty years has worked to improve health care for the people of the Kentucky hill country. The first part of Country Doctor tells Caudill's story through interviews with Dr. Caudill, Nurse Halblieb, and the people who know them best. The second reproduces a one-woman, two-act play entitled Me 'n Susie, inspired by Dr. Caudill's warmth and humor. Together, the play and interviews provide a vivid picture of life in the hills of Eastern Kentucky and a remarkable portrait of two great women in medicine.

In this quietly revolutionary work of social observation and medical philosophy, Booker Prize-winning writer John Berger and the photographer Jean Mohr train their gaze on an English country doctor and find a universal man--one who has taken it upon himself to recognize his patient's humanity when illness and the fear of death have made them unrecognizable to themselves. In the impoverished rural community in which he works, John Sassall tend the maimed, the dying, and the lonely. He is not only the dispenser of cures but the repository of memories. And as Berger and Mohr follow Sassall about his rounds, they produce a book whose careful detail broadens into a meditation on the value we assign a human life. First published thirty years ago, A Fortunate Man remains moving and deeply relevant--no other book has offered such a close and passionate investigation of the roles doctors play in their society. "In contemporary letters John Berger seems to me peerless; not since Lawrence has there been a writer who offers such attentiveness to the sensual world with responsiveness to the imperatives of conscience." --Susan Sontag

Chronicle of Doctor Jim Reed's youth in a family of thirteen children during the Great Depression, and his relationship with the residents of the families he treated for six generations in Illinois. A warm and touching accounting of over fifty-five years of rural home visits by an unusually compassionate and skilled physician.

A couple years back, I was at the Phoenix airport bar. It was empty except for one heavy-set, gray bearded, grizzled guy who looked like he just rode his donkey into town after a long day of panning for silver in them thar hills. He ordered a Jack Daniels straight up, and that's when I overheard the young guy with the earring behind the bar asking him if he had ID. At first the old sea captain just laughed. But the guy with the twinkle in his ear asked again. At this point it became apparent that he was serious. Dan Haggerty's dad fired back, "You've got to be kidding me, son." The bartender replied, "New policy. Everyone has to show their ID." Then I watched Burl Ives reluctantly reach into his dungarees and pull out his military identification card from World War II. It's a sad and eerie harbinger of our times that the Oprah-watching, crystal-rubbing, Whole Foods-shopping moms and their whipped attorney husbands have taken the ability to reason away from the poor schlub who makes the Bloody Marys. What we used to settle with common sense or a fist, we now settle with hand sanitizer and lawyers. Adam Carolla has had enough of this insanity and he's here to help us get our collective balls back. In Fifty Years We'll All Be Chicks is Adam's comedic gospel of modern America. He rips into the absurdity of the culture that demonized the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, turned the nation's bathrooms into a lawless free-for-all of urine and fecal matter, and put its citizens at the mercy of a bunch of minimum wagers with axes to grind. Peppered between complaints Carolla shares candid anecdotes from his day to day life as well as his past—Sunday football at Jimmy Kimmel's house, his attempts to raise his kids in a society that he mostly disagrees with, his big showbiz break, and much, much more. Brilliantly showcasing Adam's spot-on sense of humor, this book cements his status as a cultural commentator/comedian/complainer extraordinaire.

Heirs of General Practice is a frieze of glimpses of young doctors with patients of every age—about a dozen physicians in all, who belong to the new medical specialty called family practice. They are people who have addressed themselves to a need for a unifying generalism in a world that has become greatly subdivided by specialization, physicians who work with the "unquantifiable idea that a doctor who treats your grandmother, your father, your niece, and your daughter will be more adroit in treating you." These young men and women are seen in their examining rooms in various rural communities in Maine, but Maine is only the example. Their medical objectives, their successes, the professional obstacles they do and do not overcome are representative of any place family practitioners are working. While essential medical background is provided, McPhee's masterful approach to a trend significant to all of us is replete with affecting, and often amusing, stories about both doctors and their charges.