The Jewish Doctor

Yesterday, I was reading a couple of articles about a Jewish doctor in the San Francisco Bay area, treating COVID-19 patients, one of whom was covered in Nazi swastika tattoos.  (It was reported in several news sources.  You can Google it.)  The patient was in very serious condition, needing to be intubated to allow a machine to help him breathe.  He told his doctor team--Dr. Nichols (the Jewish one), a black nurse, and a respiratory therapist of Asian descent,--"Don't let me die, Doc."   And the doctor admitted that, for the first time in his career, he figured out he wasn't okay because he paused to wonder how different things would be had the situation been reversed.  How much would the patient have cared about the lives of the people who were charged with treating him if the shoe had been on the other foot?  Of course, because Dr. Nichols is a professional who is working full tilt to save people who've been critically hit by COVID, he and his team worked tirelessly for this patient, regardless of the man's personal beliefs, but he wondered why he was burning himself out for people who would otherwise persecute him or act as though the whole virus isn't important.  I feel the doctor's pain.  Deeply.

I'm not a doctor, although I think I would have been a good one.  Instead, I was a teacher in America's public schools.  In a sense, I was similar to a doctor in that some students' educational fate was somewhat up to me.  In the days before grading software that requires objective grading, there were a few times when I felt that I needed to make a judgment call with students who were just below the passing line.  (There weren't many.)  English was/is a required course.  The pressure is real, especially for seniors who might not be able to graduate without that last English credit.

Which students did I give a subjective break to?  Those who tried.  Those who didn't give me problems in class.  Those who didn't make excuses about why they were failing.  If a kid was on the line to pass or fail, I really did have a choice to make.  I was never vindictive, but my decision wasn't a matter of life and death, either.  Given the choice, I always gave the benefit of the doubt to the students who actually seemed to care.  I was not as generous with those who were just in school to please their parents, get their diploma, and leave the world of education.  I didn't blame them, of course, but wish they had chosen another way to be in the world so their disinterest wouldn't affect those who really wanted to learn.  

Dr. Nichols had every right to be concerned about his swastika-tattooed patient.  How much is one expected to give with no returns?  The lines get blurred when one is talking about life or death situations, but why should a Jewish doctor be expected to treat a Nazi wannabe when Christian business owners all over the country feel free not to serve same sex couples with something as simple as a wedding cake?  Save the life of a person who vows to hate you?  Why bother?  It is to Dr. Nichols's credit that he took the professional high road, because that is what he does.  

I just don't know what more to say about this.  I'm just blown away by what has now become the American experience in my lifetime.  It simply doesn't match what I have always believed was right and good.  Just like Dr. Nichols, I think I'm not okay.