First…I offer sincere thanks to former physician David Banner (not his real name) for providing me with a “consult” regarding my latest malady. “David” and I have known each other since freshman year of high school and while we have had periods where we have been out of touch, we always seem to drift back into each other’s lives.
The currently practicing medical professional who is managing my care responded to my three desperate messages via a “patient portal” by offering to get me an appointment. Hopefully, that appointment will be much sooner rather than later and we can get to the bottom of this and find an effective treatment.
I am sick and tired of being sick and tired…
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Today would have been Frank Robinson’s 85th birthday. Sadly, he died in February of last year.
Frank Robinson was my favorite player on the Orioles when I was a youngster growing up in Baltimore. I was devastated when he was traded to the Dodgers after the 1971 season and didn’t really follow baseball the next year.
In my wildest dreams I could never have imagined that I would one day work with him, that we would develop a friendship and he would develop respect for my baseball acumen. I will relay this story again:
One day I was walking past his office and stuck my head in to say hello. I noticed a baseball cap on his desk I had never seen before with the letters “CR” on it. I asked Frank, “Cedar Rapids?” He said, “No, Colorado Rockies.” I asked, “Are you going somewhere?” Frank replied, “No, but if I do I’m taking you with me.” You have no idea how amazing I felt after he said that.
From cooperstowncred.com a picture of Frank Robinson.
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Disaffected Musings 
One never stops being a physician; you just stop getting paid for your advice, unlike my working colleagues who get paid very little for their advice.
https://www.ebth.com/items/9311698?show=
This is the link to the auction for Frank Robinson’s 1960 baseball card. I came across this and bidded, but missed out as the winning bid was $45. One of the biggest regrets of my life.
I remember my late sister taking me to a ballgame, then taking me outside the gates to wait for autographs. We got Frank’s and Paul Blair’s. I kept the program for years, until said sister moved back into my mother’s house and threw out all of my possessions. In her defense, I did have my own house by that time, but she could have brought the stuff to my house. R.I.P. big sis and Frank Robinson.
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Thanks again, sir.
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Your skills as a judge of baseball talent were verified by Mr. Robinson’s compliment. You should be honored.
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Many thanks for the kind words, Philip. Still hard for me to reconcile what Frank said and the fact that, virtually overnight, baseball decided I was obsolete.
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