Doctor Barrow - Cover

Doctor Barrow

Copyright© 2020 by Mark Randall

Chapter 1

“Miss Barrow, before we go any further, let me congratulate you on achieving your doctorate. As the first female graduate of this institution, your name will be forever memorialized. Now that having been said, what are your plans.”

This was from the college president. A white-haired man that tried very hard to disguise his growing bald spot while ignoring his spreading paunch. He had been reluctant to admit me six years earlier when I applied for medical school. His stated position was that outside of nursing and midwifery, women had no place in the medical profession, let alone higher education. But pressure from My father and the political machine he controlled had forced the dean to change his opinion.

Standing in front of his massive desk, I was dressed in a demure dark blue ankle-length dress, a simple single strand of pearls around my neck. And a stylish cameo broach at the center of My neckline. “Well, dean, I intended to continue and specialize in surgery. But it’s my understanding that my application for a surgical fellowship will be turned down.”

“That is correct, Miss Barrow. At this time, all of the seats in that school have been filled. You would have to wait until something came open before you could be considered, let alone accepted. Might I suggest as an alternate something more appropriate, say obstetrics or gynecology? Something where you would have more success?”

“President Thompson, we have had this conversation before. I don’t want to study the ‘women’s fields as you put it. My goal is a surgical fellowship.”

“That’s unfortunate because it isn’t going to happen at this institution. I should also inform you that you will not be allowed to stand with your classmates at graduation because of threats of violence. I can give you your diploma and degree certificate right now. But you will not be allowed on the grounds during the graduation.” he raised his hand and beckoned to someone outside of his office.

“This is Provost McCain. He will escort you to your dorm and assist you in packing your belongings. A cartage company has been hired to transport your goods anywhere in the city you desire. However, outside of the Boston city limits, it is your responsibility. You are excused, Miss Barrow, and good luck.” he then turned to the Provost, “You know what needs to be done.” and then turned entirely away from me.

I stood there for a moment until McCain touched my elbow. “Please, Miss, I don’t want no trouble. It’s best we get this over with as quickly and quietly as possible.”

I was escorted to my dorm. Or at least what had been designated my dorm. In reality, it was the housing space for a junior bachelor professor. At the start of my senior year, it had been determined that my study hours were a distraction to the other female students. The distraction involved inconvenient questions concerning other women going into the medical field.

As a solution, I was moved into the bachelor apartment for the remainder of the school year.

Outside of the building was a high sided horse-drawn wagon and two burly men. Between Myself, the Provost, and the two movers, my property was quickly loaded, and I was escorted from the campus.

During the loading process, I decided to place my belongings into storage with the Kingston Brothers moving and storage company. These were the two movers that assisted me in vacating what had been my home for the past two years.

At a loss about what to do next, I took lodgings in an upscale boarding house with a good reputation. The first thing after settling in was to notify the family. Daddy would be thrilled and demand I come home immediately. Preferably to find a decent husband and put all this medical fol-do-rol behind me. Mother, too, would, in a less demanding way, suggest I come home. Take some time off and find my way in life. Again, a husband and children would be prominent in mother’s plan. And of course, my brothers would laugh and repeat their standard ‘We told you so.’

I knew there was no avoiding notifying the family. After all, daddy had expended serious resources, both financial and the calling in of political favors. He had a right to know what was happening in my life.

It was while I was writing that I started getting mad. While the President had been unfair, he was acting in what he considered an appropriate manner. The same could be said for my father and brothers. But damn it, I had been serious in achieving this goal. And by gosh, I needed to see it through to the next level. And that was to set up My own medical practice. I had the qualifications to be a general practitioner, an MD. Nothing was going to stop me.

That evening, after dinner, I gathered together all of the local papers and some of the larger publications from outside of Boston. As I read the want ads and then the medical advertisements, I became more and more discouraged. There was little available in the New England area. It was while I was in the boarding house-sitting room that I noticed a middle-aged gentleman watching me.

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