Albert Schweitzer Rides Again...

So Barry pulled another Albert Schweitzer. I really wish he'd stop.

One of his patients was dying, after a long illness, and the mother went to a quack who sold her some sort of "miracle juice" that she wanted injected into her daughter. The poor mother, desperate as would be anyone with a dtying child, came under the spell of this shaman, who charged her hundreds of dollars and told her American doctors were ignorant.

Anyone else would have simply refused, and that would have been the end of it. Not Barry. Amidst a week where his manifold responsibilities were even greater than usual, he spent hours on the phone with NIH and the FDA getting permission to try this "medical experiment."

It turned out the substance was a Chinese herb that IS known to have immune boosting qualities. After Barry's persistence, both federal agencies gave the ok, figuring it couldn't hurt (the girl was terminal). Next, he battled his OWN hospital's administration. They finally relented, and the miracle juice was given.

There was to be no miracle. The girl died Thursday morning, 6 hours after the magic potion was given.

I'm sure the mother, steeped in grief, will not recognize Barry's extraordinary efforts. In fact, one of his colleagues DID give him thanks --in the form of a ton of paper work he has to fill out to explain this "failed medical experiment."

This is vintage Barry. Where others may have good hearts, he dives in to peoples' problems. Years ago I nicknamed him Horton, after Dr. Seuss's character. Barry is always saving Hooville, or sitting for days on an egg to hatch it.

I just worry after him, now that he's 45. These adventures in altruism take a toll on him. His own affairs suffer. He has little time for himself. Some selfishess is necessary.

I just hope someday that there's email between heaven and hell. If the Devil gives me coffee breaks, I'll email Barry to see what's up in the other place.