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This is my first post ever. Since the first blog I looked at after setting up this blog was Dick Bolles’ about his doctor when he was five years old, I decided to write about my Dr. Murphy, who made house visits to our home in Salt Lake City when I was a child. He was a kindly elderly guy. Every time he examined my nostrils he said he was first going to look in one nose and then the other nose. I didn’t quite know what to make of that, but I knew he thought I’d be amused. He was trying to relate to me as a kid so he was alright. I hope we improve our national health care policies. At the time, it never occurred to me how my parents paid Dr. Murphy. They didn’t have much money. It must have cost quite a bit for the 5 days in the hospital when I had scarlet fever at age 7. We lived on the third floor of an apartment house. After Dr. Murphy’s visit one late afternoon, I was surprised to see a couple of men come in with a stretcher, carry me down all the flights, and put me in an ambulance. The ride was fun. After I came home, our apartment was quarantined for some weeks. My mother was upset because she wasn’t allowed to send out the laundry and my sister wasn’t happy that she had to stay home from school. All of this would have been needless these days because of antibiotics. Career-wise, I would have loved to have been a doctor. I try to absorb anything I hear about medicine. If I had thought I could have handled the science and math classes I might have gone into it. I didn’t care about earning a big salary, so starting at 17 I was happy teaching piano lessons. That was compatible with raising a family of four children, too. Did I ever tell them they had two noses though? That’s a mystery even to me.