I have never forgotten my childhood doctors. I had just two, Dr. Rust and Dr. Young. Dr. Rust was my first doctor. His office on 38th Street was white and smelled so antiseptic that if I catch a whiff of that odor today, it still evokes memories of doctor visits. He made house calls. When I was moaning and groaning in my bed in the second story of our house, I would hear him climb the stairs, go to the tiny bathroom at the end of the hall, wash his hand, and use the fine linen towel put out just for this occasion. Then he would come to my room, open his black bag, and take out his stethoscope to begin the diagnosis and remedy.

Physical exams were prerequisites for camp or beginning school. Dr. Young's office was above Maplehurst (now Starbucks). There was adventure in going to his office that involved passing through a small door on Guilford - it opened to the narrow stairs leading to his second floor office. Somehow, whether feeling good or bad, climbing the stairs was the transition from being sick to feeling better. If I got a shot, the reward was an ice cream cone at Maplehurst or Martha Washington.

Vaccines for polio and other childhood diseases - as well as antibiotics - were discovered during my childhood. These breakthroughs changed perils facing children. How well I remember taking a mid-day nap and having swimming pools close as a precaution against polio. I also remember the quarantine signs on our house during bouts of chicken pox, mumps, and measles.

When I was sick, my mother tied a ribbon around little get-well gifts and put the parcels in a big brown bag so I could pull one out every day during my confinement; being sick on a Saturday usually merited two or three flowers from the City Market to put by my bedside. Just as I have vivid memories of health care when I was a child, it will be interesting to compare today's treatments to tomorrow's medical advances. We are blessed that great strides are being made continuously.