Dusty Old Books

A special box arrived today from my parents, one I'd been waiting for all week.


I quickly opened the box after I got home from work but slowly examined the contents, pulling out one fragile book at a time.  I studied the titles, waved dust away as I turned pages, and noted the name inscribed in delicate calligraphy inside the front cover of each.  The earliest book dated 1892; the latest 1928.  I reviewed some of the content within, surprised at how well the facts and drawings correlate with our body of medical knowledge today.  There's no telling when they were last opened.  


I cannot tell you, though, how much I would have loved to have a conversation with the owner of these texts.


The name so carefully penned in her Practice of Medicine, Obstetrics, Diseases of the Brain and Nerves, Handbook of Physiology, and Dr. Potter's Quiz-Compends Anatomy books is Dr. Forrest Phillips Fleener ... my great-grandmother.


One of three women graduating in the Hahnemann Medical College Class of 1910 in Chicago, Dr. Fleener became licensed to practice general medicine in Illinois, Iowa, and Texas, before settling down with her practice in and around New Sharon, IA, a few miles from where I grew up.  My grandmother, Forrest's only child, told me that her mother would travel the local countryside, exchanging medical services for fruit and meat if her patients couldn't pay cash.  She died in her early fifties from a diabetic coma, leaving a few remembrances of her livelihood behind.  


I never knew a great deal about the only person in my family to be in medicine before me, and sadly, I know little still.  Nonetheless, I am grateful for what I do know.  For my white coat ceremony when I started medical school, my parents had my great-grandmother's class photo framed as a gift to me.  Forrest has never been far from my sight since --- she hung over my desk while I studied into the late hours in Iowa City, traveled with me to Reston, VA, where she resided on the wall in my AMSA office, and has now settled in Seattle.  I am quick to talk about her when friends come over to visit.  Her story, her experience, her legacy are a source of pride and inspiration for me.  


And, now, I have seven dusty, old books to add to my growing collection of medical antiques.  But so much more important than the knowledge contained within are what they have come to represent --- Dr. Fleener's perseverance, potential, and pioneering spirit.  I remind myself that if she could succeed as a doctor 100 years before her great-granddaughter ... then surely I can, too.