The Death to the Demon Mentality

Death to the Demon

Or

Is It Because I’m Jewish?

Or

Which Hunt, Witch Hunt and Wish to Hunt

An Essay by Izzy Sommers

Today, at about noon, at a soup kitchen, I was retrogressed back some 400 years, to a time when Warlocks and Witches roamed the Earth. In New England, as in Old England, Europe and all over the world, witches and warlocks were commonplace. In small towns, villages and communities, the witches wore white or black robes and funny pointed hats and often carried brooms and shovels. They were generally adept at herbal medicines, remedies for diseases, relief of symptoms and delivery of babies, both by natural means and by Caesarian section. They had full knowledge of natural antibiotics and antiseptics as well as of natural stimulants, astringents and unguents.

It was only when the male society of medical barbers came along, The Guild, whose main treatment was bloodletting, that witches were deemed demonic and needed to be eliminated. There followed the most unreasonable of attacks on a revered profession, the witch hunts, wherein, basically innocent, caring, naturopathic, women were accused of practicing witchcraft and tried on the spot by recruited village members frightened into thinking they were dealing with evil beings. There is the famously illogical trial by drowning and the equally illogical trial by fire. That is the women were unceremoniously captured and brought to the village square where the villagers either bound them and threw them in the river or tied them to a tree and set them on fire. If they drowned, then they were not a witch. If they died in the fire, then they must not have been a witch. If they survived the river and the fire, that “proved” they were witches; they were then hanged or otherwise put to death for being a demon or an evil force or a witch.

In England. The Guild eventually became the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons, responsible for licensing and regulating “real doctors.” In Ontario, we have the Ontario College of Physicians and Surgeons. In Welland, we have the Welland General Hospital’s Credential’s Committee responsible for ensuring that every physician on staff is a real doctor and not a warlock or witch. In the soup kitchen on Main Street we have the supervisor.

I was in line awaiting my allocation of Polish sausage on a bun, mustard, relish and home-made salsa, chocolate cake in squares and a juice drink. I was standing beside an adolescent girl who was very nervous. It was a crowded Friday and as I positioned myself, I said, “I’m in!” and smiled. The brother and the sister of the young woman laughed loudly, because, I thought, they understood the joke. The younger sister crossed her arms over her chest and moved away from me toward her brother. I understood something was a amiss, but I didn’t understand it. Nor, did I think it had anything to do with my remark. We got back to the table with our trays and the young sister had covered my chair with her jacket. I sat 3 seats away from her and across the table from the brother and sister.

After I had eaten about a third of my sausage and bun, I overheard the older sister, directly across from me saying to her brother, something about some people have a lot of nerve, looking right at me while saying it. I asked if she was talking about me. She screamed back, “Yes! You can’t say things like that to my sister.” The brother added, loudly, “You can’t treat my baby sister that way!” and raised his fist.

I arose and walked away from the table toward the supervisor behind the counter. The sisters followed me quickly and quickly said to the supervisor, “He shouldn’t be allowed to say things like that!”

The supervisor, sternly turned to me and said, “You can’t just go around saying things like that! If it happens again, I’ll see to it that you won’t be able to come her again!”

The older sister said, loudly, with fists tightened, “Yeah! He shouldn’t be allowed to eat here!”

The supervisor repeated, sternly. “I’ll see to it that you won’t be able to come here again!” She added. “Either clean up your act and don’t come here again!”

I tried to tell her the truth from my point of view but she wouldn’t listen. She looked at me sternly and repeated what she had already said. I left my half-eaten lunch and walked out. I will never go back there again, but I have the feeling, I haven’t heard the last of it. In walking away, I believe I temporarily defused the situation somewhat. My born again Christian friend Jacob would have liked my silence and my turning and walking away. We’ll see, Jacob… we’ll see.

In miniature, I can easily conceptualized this incident as being the start of The Witchhunt at Salem, as it was written by a journalist who used the court transcriptions to weave the story through the truth. The next step would have been to call the police for a public spectacle and even arrest The next step would have been to gather “witnesses” to testify as to the demonic behaviour that I had manifested. The next step would have been a legal accusation and jail, followed by an investigation and some character assassination by the newspapers and other media. Hardly anyone would be brave enough to step up and ask for the truth. I believe hardly anyone would come forward and say, “This is illogical!” or “This is insane and unreasonable.”

It is sad to say that this has happened to me in the past, where the Ontario College of Physicians and Surgeons called me on the carpet to answer to accusers who thought that my remarks, or behaviour, were aggressive and inappropriate, and a few court cases did eventually ensue. In those days, the threat, of course, was that I would lose my license to practice, which in effect would ruin my livelihood. It makes me wonder how much responsibility I have for the events. Am I truly “devilish” or “demonic?” Do I make remarks intended to cause horror or fright in order to stir the pot or cause excitement in an otherwise boring situation. I wonder…

If the proof is in the pudding, then I am mostly innocent. One court case concerned a woman who accused me of sexual misbehaviour within the confines of an office medical practice. It was judged in my favour, despite reporting in the Welland Tribune which would have hung everyone concerned. My reputation was never diminished and I never lost patients, to my awareness. On the contrary, my reputation seemed to improve and my patient load seemed to increase. Many of my patients, friends and relatives, and colleagues come forward to wish me well and to congratulate me.

It was a hollow victory, if in fact, one could really call it a victory. The excellent lawyer hired for me by the Canadian Medical Protective Association, our malpractice insurance carrier in Ottawa, was outstanding and quickly pointed out to the judge the illogical aspects of the woman’s case. I was allowed to give my side of the story in the quiet setting of a courtroom. My brother-in-law and girlfriend came to every procedure and were quick to encourage me to be brave and just tell the truth. It turns out that there was a family connection and a family struggle for inheritance money about which I had no idea. The owner of my group practice had recently died of a brain tumour. His surviving brother had received much less than he had expected. It was the brother’s girl-friend who sued me for sexual harassment after I had taken she and her daughter on as patients. The owner’s son, the major benefactor, simply said that the accusation was an attempt to get even and possibly an attempt to get money that was thought his due. Go figure…

What will happen as a result of today’s incident in the soup kitchen, God only knows. Maybe my walking away and essentially “turning the other chewill engender some forgiveness and love. I did find myself muttering, “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.” Now, does that sound like a demon to you? I’ll check with Maria and Jacob, my born again Christian friends.

Thanks for listening.

THE END

© Izzy Sommers, MD[ret]

Welland, Canada

March 4, 2008