Your incredible neighbors: Retired surgeon writes memoir at 92

It’s being said that age 60 is the new 40. If true, perhaps 92 is the new 65.

For La Posada resident and retired general and trauma surgeon Dr. Charles Douglas Adkins, his age hasn’t gotten in the way of writing his memoirs.

Inspired by his daughter Jennifer, son Jones and gourmet cook and retired English-teacher friend Leland Johnson, Adkins set out on the ambitious task of putting his life’s story in writing — longhand.

The process took four years of recalling and writing about his childhood in Minnesota where his father was a genuine country doctor. Of the writing experience, Adkins said, “I revised and revised, added and added. I stuck with it. I kept thinking of things.”

Titled “Incision — A Surgeon’s Memoirs” the 224-page book begins by saying “This is a tribute to a noble aspect of the past — the country doctor.”

Reminiscing about his father Adkins said he chewed tobacco, was a real character, a maverick and wasn’t afraid to use profanity.

He related an incident where his father told him about a sour-faced nurse and in talks with peers about what to do with her, the senior Dr. Adkins said, “Fire the SOB.”

“Incision” is written from the heart and tells Adkins memoirs in photos and text. Especially sentimental and poignant are his recollections about his mother, who died at age 32, when Adkins was only four years old.

Asked what he thought were a few of the greatest differences between how medicine is practiced today compared to his days as a surgeon, Adkins spoke of the ability of doctor’s today to advertise, something he said doctors weren’t permitted to do in his prime years between 1943 and 1982.

“Vasectomies and tubal ligations; they had to go through a special protocol. That’s no longer needed,” he said.

Of the difference in billing Adkins said, “My father never sent bills; I went on collection calls with him. He knocked on doors; once he got a rifle as payment.”

He speaks about other major differences including organ transplantation, stem cell research and robotic surgery, closure of tuberculosis sanitariums and almost complete obliteration of communicable diseases, recognition of the carcinogenic effects of tobacco, prescription drugs for mental illness and hypertension and emphasis on a balanced diet and exercise.

Additionally he mentions the utilization of PSA for detecting prostate cancer, less radical surgery for breast cancer, paramedic initial care at an emergency sites — and of extreme value, the establishment of hospice and chemotherapy.

“While any one of the above has not reduced health-care costs, each has decreased morbidity and mortality,” Adkins wrote.

Asked if he was a surgeon today what he would enjoy most about the advances and changes, he tossed out a quick list of top improvements. “The efficiency of anesthesiologists, the refinement of needles and sutures, qualifications for surgical privileges, the quality of intensive care units, the advancement of nurses and nursing care — and, of course, antibiotics.”

Of the seemingly high incidence of cancers today, Adkins says women are more cognizant of breast cancer; they go for annual mammograms, there’s excellent screening for prostate cancer and a person’s awareness of family history makes them more proactive for checkups and screenings.

Asked his opinions about 21st century medical practices, on the negative side Adkins spoke of the lack of a true bedside manner of many of today’s physicians and the impersonal automatic office telephone systems where a patient has to listen to a litany of menu options before speaking to a live person.

On the positive side he mentions the dramatic increase in women graduating from medical school from 5 percent in 1942 to over 50 percent today.

More than using his skilled hands in surgery, Adkins is also a fine painter. Working in oils, acrylics and watercolor, he fills the walls of his home at La Posada with exquisite works of a Minnesota lake landscape in spring, a white-barked birch tree adorned with glowing bittersweet and a row of vibrant, colorful hollyhocks.

“Incision” is written with the same skill as Adkins would use in surgery and in painting.

Ellen Sussman is a freelance writer in Green Valley. Contact her at ellen2414@cox.net.