Road trip 4: with my brother in Woodstock


If addiction is the sum of all fears,
Do we wait till it all comes to tears?
Or is our prediction
Of a bad prediliction
Towards the whiskeys, the wines, and the beers?

Synopsis: I’m a family practitioner from Sioux City, Iowa. I danced back from the brink of burnout in 2010, and, honoring a one-year non-compete clause, went for adventures working in out-of-the-way locations. After jobs in Alaska, New Zealand, Iowa, and Nebraska, I returned home and took a part-time position with a Community Health Center. I used vacation time to do two short assignments in Petersburg, Alaska. Currently on a road trip, I left the Community Health Center last month because of a troubled Electronic Medical Record (EMR) system.
I dropped my sister, niece, wife, and stepmother at the Long Island Railroad station, put my brother’s address into Samantha, my GPS, and set off for upstate New York.
My brother, an artist, recently moved into a very nice house near Woodstock. As the wind picked up and the temperature dropped, we walked around his acres. I gave him my amateur pomologist’s opinion of his aging apple trees. I looked at the standing but dead timber around the property and did some onsite surface archaeology. His girlfriend joined in the discussion of planting fruit trees.
We talked about our careers over sushi in town. Freelancing for an artist bears similarities to locum tenens for a doctor, especially in terms of contract negotiation. We agreed that inability to at least appear to be willing to walk away from a deal ruins a negotiating position. I detailed my recent untoward experience with a recruiter low on professionalism.
My brother recently studied hand anatomy. I brought to his attention how much all seven siblings’ hands resemble each other.
Later, at his house, we sipped at small quantities of very expensive bourbon, and brought up the subject of addictive disorders in our own lives and in our family.
The key to recognition of an addiction is continuance of a behavior despite adverse consequences, especially missing social commitments.
I put forth my analysis of taking call as an addiction for doctors. He pointed out, correctly, that insight rarely creeps into addicts’ lives. Then we tried to figure out which behaviors qualify as addictions.
I talked about a friend who works as an alcoholic; his business relies on selling wine and spirits. He starts drinking when he gets to work and stops when he gets home; it doesn’t interfere with his work, but, still, that doesn’t keep him from the diagnosis. And it might make bring new depth to the term workaholic.
Our conversation turned to sociopaths and the problems society has from those who enjoy other people’s pain. Probably those people tend to certain professions, including police, corrections, military, and, regretfully, medicine.
Then I started telling jokes. All seven siblings share a quirky, off-the-wall sense of humor; we bring quick, easy laughs to all conversations. My ability to remember and effectively tell jokes remains as rare in our family as it does in general.

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