Family Webicine

By Rod Moser, PA, PhD

Two weeks ago was the 70^th anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. I remembered this fact as I was driving to meet a dear friend. Every year about this time, I get a call from a former patient of mine for an annual delivery of very special variety of Mandarin oranges called dobashi, grown by only one secret and undisclosed Northern California orchard from old tree stock brought from Japan many, many years ago, before the war. These oranges are unusually sweet and peel easily – often just in two pieces. The first time that I tasted this variety of seedless orange was in Japan, near Hiroshima. I remember touring the Peace Park at ground zero where the first atomic bomb was detonated. This monumental event occurred years before I was born, but this is where the story starts.

Her name is Takako. She was a child living with her family near Hiroshima on August 6, 1945.  Over 166,000 people died as a result of this bomb, but Takako was spared. I first met her about twenty years ago as a patient. She is about 4’10” in heels (if she wore them) and is always laughing.  She is divorced from her former military husband and her children are now grown and married. She has about nine or ten grandchildren and an equal number of cats.  She had no health insurance at that time, so for years, I provided her with free care and sample medications and did what I could to help her. She, in turn, would surprise me from time to time with homemade sushi, my personal weakness when it comes to food. I thought the exchange was perfect: medical care for sushi. After I moved from that practice, I turned her care over to my wife. Takako fell in love with my wife, too.  She is considered family.

As a Hiroshima survivor, Takako is eligible for free medical care, but she has to go to Japan to get it. Logistically, this is not possible when she is ill; however, she does get thorough work-ups when she goes home to Japan about twice a year. Being exposed to nuclear radiation, she has always had the fear that she would get cancer of some type, like many others from Hiroshima, but thankfully, she has been spared from the Big C.

Takako is now on Medicare, so insurance is no longer a barrier. She’s having back surgery in about a week, so she brought her medical records to our meeting for me to explain.

We always meet at a Denny’s Restaurant parking lot so that I can get her annual gift of dobashi oranges. It felt like a drug deal: She opens her trunk, grabs two 20 pound bags of oranges, and puts them in the back seat of my car. We then went into Denny’s for leisurely cup of tea.

Just a couple of generations ago, less than a decade before I was born, we were at war with Japan. My wife’s father was an ensign in the Navy and helped raise some of the ships that were sunk at Pearl Harbor. Many years after the war, my father-in-law married a Chinese woman whose parents were killed by Japanese soldiers (she hid in a bakery oven and was not found). Several of my uncles saw action in the Pacific theater during the war (they all returned home). I am sure that the parents or grandparents of the Japanese students we’ve hosted were war veterans, on the other side. We never really talked about it.

We are all enriched by our friends. Looking at Takako’s smile and hearing her laugh, you would never guess the horrors she has witnessed in her lifetime. She did tell me how fearful she was when American soldiers entered Hiroshima. They were very nice and offered the children chocolate. She bowed and politely accepted it. She and the other children were starving, but would not eat the chocolate for fear they would be poisoned and eaten. They had been told that Americans eat children. Incidentally, I reciprocated her gift of oranges with a little gift of my own – a crystal cat. I was going to buy her a box of chocolates, but I am glad that I didn’t, remembering this story later.

In this season of miracles, I am honored to know Takako. She is a living miracle: a beautiful person who is not only a survivor, but a thriver.