My mother, Doctor Kelly
As I grow older and experience more of life, the good and the not so good, my appreciation and admiration of my mother grow. She graduated with her M.D. from the University of Illinois College of Medicine in 1943. She was one of eight women in her class and, as Class Secretary, the only officer who wasn't a man. She was Marie Anne Smith, called Ma Smith by her classmates. She was a brilliant and driven pioneer.
Ma Smith became Doctor Kelly when she married my father. She was 38; he was 43. She wanted children. I don't know how much my father wanted us, but he went along with her plan. My father's father committed suicide at a very young age, and although Papa (we had to call him Papa because he hated the sound of Daddy) was only 6 years old, he became the man of his little family. Papa never wanted to talk about his life...it was horrific on many levels. He took care of his mother, my Nana, until she died. Nana was part of the deal when Doctor Kelly married my Papa. She lived with my parents from the day they married until she was buried; believe me, I have some memories!!!
Someday, I will write about the crazy that was my childhood home, but today I am thinking about Mom. She was an obstetrician/gynecologist back when there were very few women doctors. My parents had my Mom's doctor's office built as part of our home. Doctor Kelly's office was attached to our laundry room. I think how brave and confident Mom was to take that leap. I doubt I could have done it.
Mom was always tired. She had office hours and, of course, she was often at the hospital delivering babies. She napped whenever she could. I suppose it was a blessing that Nana was there to take care of us when my mother wasn't around...which was a lot. Despite her schedule and her exhaustion, she was so much more than Doctor Kelly. She gardened, creating bumper crops of tomatoes, cucumbers, corn on the cob. She was an excellent cook, even finding time to make pickles from the garden's cucumbers. She played golf, and bridge, and, amazingly, took synchronized swimming at our local pool.
We had a sign near the sidewalk announcing the office of Marie A. Kelly, M.D. People would come to our door needing help that had nothing to do with an obstetrics practice. I remember one parent bringing her child to our door, worried that the boy was extremely ill. He was vomiting and acting crazy. Mom had to explain to the parent that the kid was drunk...not a fun conversation, I'll bet. Another time a parent brought a kid who had a bottle cap stuck in his throat. Doctor Kelly saved him.
I hated going anywhere with my mother. It took HOURS to get anything done because people kept stopping her, reminding her about what she done, the children she had delivered, the lives she had changed...and saved. "Jesus," I'd think, "can we just get the freaking shopping done?!?!?"
Sorry, Mom. If I'd only understood how tough it was.
Ma Smith became Doctor Kelly when she married my father. She was 38; he was 43. She wanted children. I don't know how much my father wanted us, but he went along with her plan. My father's father committed suicide at a very young age, and although Papa (we had to call him Papa because he hated the sound of Daddy) was only 6 years old, he became the man of his little family. Papa never wanted to talk about his life...it was horrific on many levels. He took care of his mother, my Nana, until she died. Nana was part of the deal when Doctor Kelly married my Papa. She lived with my parents from the day they married until she was buried; believe me, I have some memories!!!
Someday, I will write about the crazy that was my childhood home, but today I am thinking about Mom. She was an obstetrician/gynecologist back when there were very few women doctors. My parents had my Mom's doctor's office built as part of our home. Doctor Kelly's office was attached to our laundry room. I think how brave and confident Mom was to take that leap. I doubt I could have done it.
Mom was always tired. She had office hours and, of course, she was often at the hospital delivering babies. She napped whenever she could. I suppose it was a blessing that Nana was there to take care of us when my mother wasn't around...which was a lot. Despite her schedule and her exhaustion, she was so much more than Doctor Kelly. She gardened, creating bumper crops of tomatoes, cucumbers, corn on the cob. She was an excellent cook, even finding time to make pickles from the garden's cucumbers. She played golf, and bridge, and, amazingly, took synchronized swimming at our local pool.
We had a sign near the sidewalk announcing the office of Marie A. Kelly, M.D. People would come to our door needing help that had nothing to do with an obstetrics practice. I remember one parent bringing her child to our door, worried that the boy was extremely ill. He was vomiting and acting crazy. Mom had to explain to the parent that the kid was drunk...not a fun conversation, I'll bet. Another time a parent brought a kid who had a bottle cap stuck in his throat. Doctor Kelly saved him.
I hated going anywhere with my mother. It took HOURS to get anything done because people kept stopping her, reminding her about what she done, the children she had delivered, the lives she had changed...and saved. "Jesus," I'd think, "can we just get the freaking shopping done?!?!?"
Sorry, Mom. If I'd only understood how tough it was.
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