It’s the day after Thanksgiving and have just handed in my receipts to Benicia Main Street. They give you one ticket for every $10 spent on First St. With all of the company I’ve had, eating out, etc. I’ve racked up quite a pile of tickets and hope to win $500 in Downtown Dollars. While there I picked up some See’s truffles and the Benicia Historical Society’s 2025 Calendar of Historic Homes to increase my odds of winning.
Am preparing to go into my yearly week-long silent meditation retreat so don’t have much material for a column. Have been ruminating about about how health care has improved over the decades while holding my breath that it continues in this age of conspiracy theories.
The Early Days
In high school my toes always hurt. Turned out I had ingrown toenails. Mom had just bought me a new pair of green Keds which I was quite proud of. The podiatrist operated on my big toes and bandaged them up. They looked like miniature mummies. “Let me see your shoes,” he said as I handed them over and he left the room. Mom and I looked at each other — confused. When he came back there was a gaping hole cut into the toe of each new Ked. I was horrified as I held back the tears.
To add insult to my injuries, I had to give a speech in class the next day. How could I disguise my hideous footwear? Asked Mom for some strips of white cloth and took a green Crayola and colored them to match the shoes and then tucked the green bits into the new holes. The colors didn’t match. Not a great camouflage job but better than a bloody bandage I thought. The Peds — remember Peds (nylon half socks)? — would help keep them in place.
Next day I stood in front of the class even more nervous than usual. Kids in the front row looked at me and my shoes with pity. After class I ran as fast as I could to catch the school bus home to hide. As I ran, the little pieces of cloth dislodged and flew out into the blacktop. My humiliation was complete.
The Kaiser Years
As a young adult I enrolled in Kaiser and have been with them ever since. Every year I would have a “multiphasic exam.” That was the yearly check-up to nip any nascent illness in the bud. It was invented back in the 1950s when members of Harry Bridge’s International Longshoremen and Warehouse Union in San Francisco were the first to be given the exams. This database was the beginning of the digitized health record system that we have today.
After checking in we were given a smock, shown a tiny dressing room, and told to strip to the waist and don the gown. It was quite a complicated piece of engineering, with labels A through F for where to put arms and shoulders and whatnot. Remember struggling for what seemed like a half an hour trying to figure out which arm went in where and if it was on frontwards or backwards. Finally started hyperventilating as it only got worse. I had to get out of there.
In the waiting room sat a row of women with their smocks perfectly turned out, neat bows on each shoulder. I had one side tied with an unsymmetrical bow, and the other side hanging down exposing my left thorax (breast). “This can’t be right,” I thought, but was too stressed to try again. I lurched to a chair holding the gown up with my other hand.
We were given a pair of paper slippers to wear throughout the process. I found it impossible to walk without curling my toes under and shuffling along the linoleum. If I lifted a foot, the slipper fell off. I wondered if this was a psychological test. The result was I felt helpless, and embarrassed, and became compliant as I staggered from one testing station to another. They had broken my spirit.
Next was the hearing test. As she gave me some earphones, the audiologist explained that every time I heard a noise I was to press the green button. Taking her literally, I laid on that button without letting up. I heard sounds the whole time — from the neighboring exam rooms, the waiting room, and from the din of cars passing by on the freeway. They must have thought I had super hearing although nobody ever said anything — that I heard about.
Station C was a mystery. Think it had to do with oral health. This made me nervous after my experiences with my childhood dentist who didn’t believe in novocain. Thank goodness for the flouride. I sat on an examination table and the doctor said “open your mouth.” He looked inside with a flashlight, said, “Uh huh’’ and sent me on my way. Not sure what he was looking for but I must have passed — I had a tongue and teeth and tonsils — still do, and that might have been all that they were looking for.
If there was a blood pressure check, I don’t remember. I’m sure it was off the charts due to the anxiety brought on by the multiphasic.
Nowadays
These days I go to my Kaiser Family Practitioner with a list of questions which she answers thoughtfully. She listens and monitors my chart on her computer. If I think I need a specialist, I am eventually referred. In no cases recently have I been asked to put on a complicated gown; they’re all open in the back anyhow or the front if you put it on backwards. I’m never sure. Not a good look either way. They need a good tailor.
There isn’t a paper shoe in site — in any of the offices. I never wear Keds when I go in, though. If any medical personnel dares to look at my expensive New Balance running shoes I’ll pull the red alarm string on the wall and run.
Will making America healthy again bring back the multiphasaic exam? Heaven help us.
Letters From Benicia 