Viewing 3 posts - 1 through 3 (of 3 total)
  • Author
  • Anonymous
      Post count: 93172

      Thank you Denise–we all need that story. It is true, pass the kindness along. It helps in more ways than just the one. You touch another life, through helping someone help someone else. And so it goes……..

        Post count: 93172

        What a truely refreshing and inspirational story! Jake and I have thought our son the same way, as this is how we live our lives.
        Thank You, Denise!


          Post count: 93172


          “We are prone to judge success

          by the index of our salaries or the size of our automobiles

          ather than by the quality of our service and relationship to mankind.”

          By Martin Luther King, Jr.

          PASS IT ON

          There I was with my wife and our two-year-old daughter, in an isolated, snow-packed campground in
          Oregon’s Rogue River Valley, with a comatose vehicle. We were on a journey to celebrate the completion
          of my second year of residency training, but my recently acquired medical savvy was of no use to the
          recreational vehicle we had rented for the trip.

          This happened 20 years ago, but I remember it as clearly as I do the cloudless Oregon sky. I had just
          awakened, fumbled around with the light switch, and been greeted with darkness. I tried the ignition. No
          response. As I climbed out of the camper, fortunately my profanities were drowned out in the roar of
          the white-water rapids.

          My wife and I concluded that we were victims of a dead battery and that my legs were of more value
          than my automotive knowledge. I decided to hike back to the main highway, several miles away, while she
          stayed with our daughter.

          Two hours and a twisted ankle later, I arrived at the highway and flagged down a logging truck, which
          let me off at the first gas station we came to and drove off. As I approached the station, I had the
          sinking realization that it was Sunday morning. The place was closed. But there was a pay phone and a
          tattered phone book. I called the only automotive Service Company located in the next town, some 20
          miles away.

          Bob answered and listened as I explained my predicament. “No problem,” he said as I gave my location.
          “I’m usually closed on Sundays, but I can be there in about half an hour.” I was relieved that he was
          coming, but I was also mindful of the economic implications of his offer to help.

          Bob arrived in his glistening red wrecker, and we drove to the campground. As I got out of the tow
          truck, I turned around and watched in utter amazement as Bob leveraged himself out of the truck on
          braces and crutches. He was a paraplegic?

          He made his way over to the camper, and I again began the mental gymnastics of calculating the cost of
          his beneficence.

          “Yep, it’s just a dead battery. A little jump start and you’ll be on your way.” Bob restored the battery,
          and while it was recharging, he entertained my daughter with magic tricks. He even pulled a quarter out
          of his ear and gave it to her.

          As he was putting his jumper cables back into the truck, I asked him how much I owned him. “Oh,
          nothing,” he replied, to my astonishment.

          “I need to pay you something, ” I insisted.

          “No,” he reiterated. “Back in Vietnam, someone helped me out of a worse situation than this when I lost
          my legs, and that guy told me to just pass it on. So you don’t owe me anything. Just remember, whenever
          you get the chance, you pass it on.”

          Fast-forward about 20 years to my busy medical office, where I frequently train medical students.
          Cindy, a second-year student from an out-of-state school, has come to spend a month with me so that she
          can stay with her mother, who lives in the area. We have just finished seeing a patient whose life has
          been ravaged by drug and alcohol abuse. Cindy and I are in the nurses’ station discussing possible
          treatment options, and suddenly I notice tears welling up in her eyes. “Are you uncomfortable talking
          about this sort of thing?” I asked.

          “No,” Cindy sobbed. “It’s just that my mother could be that patient. She has the same problem.”

          We spent the lunch hour secluded in the conference room, discussed the tragic history of Cindy’s
          alcoholic mom. Tearfully and painfully, Cindy bared her soul as she recounted the years of anger,
          embarrassment and hostility that had characterized her family’s existence. I offered Cindy the hope of
          getting her mother into treatment, and we arranged for her mom to meet with a trained counselor. After
          strong encouragement from the other family members, Cindy’s mom readily consented to treatment. She
          went into the hospital for several weeks and emerged a new and changed person. Cindy’s family had been
          on the verge of disintegration; for the first time, they experienced a glimmer of hope. “How can I ever
          repay you?” Cindy asked.

          As I thought back to the comatose camper in the show bound campground and the paraplegic good
          Samaritan, I new there was only one answer I could give her.

          “Just pass it on.”

          By Kenneth G. Davis, M.D.

        Viewing 3 posts - 1 through 3 (of 3 total)
        • You must be logged in to reply to this topic.