The St. Mary’s Clinic in south Minneapolis, housed in the Park Avenue Methodist Church.

Photos by Janna Netland Lover

Harrison Farley, M.D., talks with a patient as Maureen Juarez, R.N., interprets.

Bookmark and Share


February 2009 | Back to Table of Contents

End Notes

On Being a “Real” Doctor

A lesson on the gift of giving.

By Harrison H. Farley, M.D. 

Caring doctors and nurses have always helped the disadvantaged in our community. It is a way for us to give back, as it were, for untold blessings bestowed on us by family and friends who helped us achieve our own goals in life.

Yet most of this humanitarian activity happens in enthusiastic bursts. We offer what we can when we can, given our many other commitments. Although these efforts are beneficial and appreciated, they can’t significantly address the ongoing needs of those with no money, no insurance, and little confidence in their ability to find what free health care services are available.

The Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondolet ignored the magnitude of those needs and opened their first St. Mary’s Health Clinic in 1992 under the seminal leadership of Sister Mary Madonna Ashton, a woman of extraordinary talents and diverse skills. The purpose of the free clinic was to catch people who fall through the health care safety net. That goal hasn’t changed, but it remains elusive.

The Sisters’ intent was to provide ongoing care for the medically underserved at no cost. Their clinics would be housed in the basements of local churches or other donated spaces and tailored to the cultural makeup of the patients in the community they served. The facilities would be manned by volunteer nurses, physicians, clerks, and translators. Those volunteers would arrange for patients to be seen by specialists, if necessary. Personal medical records would be kept for each patient, follow-up visits encouraged, and medicine provided as needed. If diagnostic tests were necessary, they would be performed by hospitals and laboratories at a reduced cost. In order to receive services, patients had to meet the Sisters’ criteria, which simply put was having no way to pay for health care.

The Sisters ignored those who said this couldn’t be done when they opened that first clinic. As if searching for water, they looked for contributions everywhere. No vein was too deep to attempt to reach. I feel certain their mantra was “with God’s help, all is possible.” The result of all this work is the presence today of 13 clinics that provide free care to thousands of people in the Twin Cities metro area.

Upon retirement from my general surgery practice 16 years ago, I inquired about volunteering in one of the clinics. I was and am a Protestant. No problem. I was never questioned about my faith. My job was not to evangelize, it was to provide medical care. One caveat: I did learn that the Sisters would not provide care that went against their pro-life tenets. Although this did on occasion limit what help I could offer (the case of an unmarried Muslim teenager who was pregnant proved to be a difficult conundrum), nevertheless, I acted in accordance with the Sisters’ beliefs.

Having the chance to work in one of the clinics was a gift. My fellow volunteers were truly inspiring. They treated all patients, whether they were indigent or having temporary financial difficulty, as if they were dignitaries, and the patients loved them for it. In 16 years, I never once had a patient complain to me about a volunteer, and I never heard the volunteers, who often arrived early and stayed late, complain about their work. To labor in such a compassionate milieu was nothing short of amazing; to be able to practice medicine without being bogged down with insurance and money concerns gave me a certain freedom I hadn’t before experienced in medicine. I could offer patients comfort and perhaps a cure. Beyond that, I could help them understand the necessity of patience and acceptance in dealing with many of the problems in life. 

To me, a “real” physician has more than a medical degree and acts from the heart as well as the head. At the St. Mary’s clinics, I aspired to be such a real doctor. In retrospect, I wonder whether I was that real during my days as a surgeon. I’d like to have another shot at my profession; but for me, now retired, I’m afraid that door is
shut. MM

Harrison Farley is a retired surgeon who lives in St. Paul.

. .