![]() Was finished-if the Congo had settled down by that time. Someday, maybe to Congo in a few years when my specialty training Had known a lot of blacks, and I had considered going to Africa Known a girl from India and had thought in terms of going there. Surgery and hoped to work overseas someday, maybe as a missionaryĭoctor, but had never actually been out of the United States. Operations, conferences, and never-ending stacks of charts withĭischarge summaries to be dictated. Hours with the constant pressure of new patients, surgical A surgical resident in a university medical center works long I had a lot of other things on my mind, and I was tired all the I had to be back at the hospital by 6:30 the Into the kitchen and ate leftovers from supper. I knew Congo was in desperate need of doctors and medical help,īut I also knew the country needed a stable government. “I don’t know,” I shrugged, tossing the postcard onto the table. Read, and when I looked up she asked, “Why would any Americanĭoctor want to go to Congo and get into the middle of that mess?” My wife, Winkie, had been watching me as I TheĬard asked me to write to them if I could go and help, even for as In Congo, the disappearance of Prime Minister Lumumba, and theĬollapse of the medical care system had brought on the crisis. ![]() The card said there was an urgent need for Americanĭoctors to staff the abandoned hospitals in Congo. ![]() My wife handed me the plain, cream-colored postcard late thatĮvening in early December 1960. ![]()
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