The doctor makes a house call

Hand me a scalpel, stat!

With the rib spreader – Finochietto retractor – exposing a beating heart for a closer look at the crux of the matter, I needed to expeditiously repair the damage to a ruptured aortic aneurysm; otherwise, the patient would bleed out on the operating table without any hope of survival.

At first glance, you might think I’m an accomplished emergency room physician with a nickname like Marcus Welby, M.D. that was taken from a 1970s television show starring Robert Young; or maybe I’d binge-watched one too many episodes of ER – a long running medical drama on the small screen about a fictionalized hospital in Chicago, Illinois.

However, I was endeavoring to pluck a little plastic heart from a very small cavity surrounded by metal with a pair of tweezers – Electro Probe – in an effort to win one hundred dollars in play money during a highly contentious game of “Operation” against my lifelong roommate and the Streckeisen brothers.

Shortly after moving to Ellwood City as the new first family at the Pentecostal church on the north side of town, the blond-haired minister decided to visit each of the families – on a rotating basis – in the congregation to become better acquainted on a more personal level and to provide us a perfect opportunity for social interaction with our brothers and sisters in Christ.

When visiting some of the senior parishioners, my siblings and I usually twiddled our thumbs due to a lack of extracurricular activities; but on this particular Friday evening, we were dropping by the home of Dick and Jackie Streckeisen who just happened to have three children – all of whom were just slightly younger than me.

This excited sixth grader was sitting in the family station wagon waiting to get the show on the road.

Upon discovering my comrades from Royal Rangers shared the attic space in their home at the very top of Seventh Street, I was eager to investigate all the stellar nooks and crannies inside the knee wall attic and devil’s peak as well as check out the slammin’ view from the window at the top of the enclosed staircase.

It was everything I expected and more after getting the grand tour upon our arrival just prior to the sun dipping below the horizon announcing the conclusion of another glorious day in the mid-size industrial city north of Pittsburgh; whereupon Jason Streckeisen toppled a plethora of board games in his bedroom closet while searching for the perfect entertainment distraction.

Do you need to go to the hospital?

“Funny you should ask that,” responded the giddy third grader with a quick rub of the head upon entering his older brother’s bedroom on the opposite side of the corridor with the highly charged game of ‘Operation.’ “The medical professionals have come to us with this game of physical skill that will test our hand-eye coordination and fine motor skills; and we’ll see who the best surgeon is by the end of the game.”

Just what the doctor ordered – electric shock therapy!

Since my nickname was very unique indeed, I was given the distinct honor of starting off the festivities with a bang; but instead, it was more like a lightning bolt shooting from the night sky.

Immediately after setting up the would-be operating table and divvying up the specialist cards atop the double bed, all eyes were on me as I cautiously dipped the tweezers – which were attached to the game board – into one of twelve cavities with various ailments while attempting to successfully remove the broken heart.

Without warning, the small pair of pinchers inadvertently brushed against the metal surrounding the recessed edges, thereby lighting up “Cavity Sam’s” red nose causing me to feign electrocution with constant body tremors; after which my adversaries looked like deer in headlights as I rolled off the bottom of the bed convulsing with laughter.

“You should’ve seen your faces,” howled this stand-up comedian endeavoring to catch his breath while dodging accent pillows being thrown from every direction. “Those eyes were about ready to pop out of your heads when you’ns actually thought I was getting electrocuted like a convicted criminal; but I’m utterly shocked that you did absolutely nothing to help me.”

We thought you were having a seizure!

“I was about ready to dial 9-1-1,” revealed Donald Streckeisen with a wide-eyed look as he readjusted the game board following the hullabaloo. “Although I’ve never known anyone to get electrocuted by this game, I figured you must’ve needed some sort of medical attention; so, it’s a good thing my fourth-grade class learned how to do CPR last month.”

Now it was my turn to get all bug-eyed!

“Hold the phone,” I exclaimed throwing an open palm into the air when climbing back into the makeshift boat surrounded by a sea of dark blue carpet. “If anyone’s going to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on me, I better be deader than a door nail; or someone’s going to get a knuckle sandwich right in the kisser.”

Following our high-spirited conversation, my big brother John – who just happened to have the broken heart specialty card within his grasp – reached into the aforementioned cavity with the hypersensitive tweezers and plunked out the plastic piece without any problems and received double the money for his troubles.

This flabbergasted stripling had to pick his jaw up off the bed after the freckle-faced athlete effortlessly performed the difficult task; so, if he was going to have any chance of winning, it was definitely time to step up his game.

Unfortunately for me, the oldest of the bunch walked away with bragging rights on the night while the pair of Hartman Elementary School students finished in a dead heat; and I brought up the rear with the least amount of play money to my name.

My worthy opponents spontaneously came up with a humorous saying as we descended the stairs to get a snack – Marcus Welby, M.D. Although you’re not a real doctor, you play one on TV.