I recently celebrated the birth of my eldest daughter. She turned fifty four years old in her rlatest journey around the sun. I remember the day of her birth as vividly as if it had been only yesterday. It’s funny how clearly we recall exact details of such important events.
She was a true child of the seventies. I was twenty one years old on the day of her birth and as naive as they come but I had grown up quickly the year before when my mother was first diagnosed with mental illness. I had to convince Mama to go to the hospital and get treatment from a psychiatrist who had been recommended to me. That event went south very quickly and set the stage for my mother to push back anytime I needed to get her medical help.
By the time my daughter was born almost exactly a year later after my introduction to the world of mental illness I felt like an old soul. On the day I went to the hospital to give birth I did not know whether I would be a mother of a girl or a boy. The baby was already overdue and when I finally went into labor it would take eighteen hours for her to come. Back then I stood five feet six and a half inches tall and weighed all of eighty eight pounds before I became pregnant so everyone was in awe that such a tiny woman gave birth to a nine pound two and half ounce precious girl who looked as though she was a month old.
After my girl’s birth I settled into a homey routine with my new little family that included settling down in front of our television in the evenings to watch the sitcoms that flooded the airwaves. That’s when I first saw Bob Newhart perform his sweet fumbling rendition of a psychologist happily married to a woman who seemed to have to guide him safely through each day. I so loved his character and somehow identified with his gentle nature that seemed to be so true of who he actually was. He became one of my favorite comedians and I would watch him in different roles over the years as my own life would be influenced by him in a most incredible way.
About five years after my mother had first shown symptoms of mental illness she had another frightening bout with the depression and mania that would follow her for over forty years. It was a blow to both her and me because we had somehow thought that she was cured after her first episode. Unfortunately her experience with the initial psychiatrist had been so frightening to her that she refused to go see another doctor. I was desperate to find someone who would help her in a more gentle manner.
By then I had also had my second child, also a daughter. The only doctor I was seeing at the time was my OBGYN. I contacted him for advice on who might be a good fit for my mother, explaining how the first doctor had treated both her and me as though we were lab rats in his experiments. My doctor immediately gave me a name, Dr. Thomas Brandon, and assured me that our family would love his methods and his style.
I called Dr. Brandon’s office and he was actually willing to talk extensively with me about my mother, what had gone wrong before, and what kind of treatment I was expecting from him. We spoke for almost an hour after which I felt confident that he would be just the person my mother needed to see. I made an appointment for a few days later and convinced my mother to go after relating how informative and compassionate her new doctor had been when I spoke with him.
We both nervously arrived at the appointed time where the receptionist handed us a sheath of paperwork to complete. My mother was not doing well so concentrating on answering all of the questions was difficult for her. Before long the doctor himself came to the waiting room and sat down quietly with us. To our utter surprise we noticed immediately that he resembled Bob Newhart so much that he might well have been his twin brother. My mother smiled for the first time in days.
Dr. Brandon watched her quietly for a time and then sweetly suggested that she might complete the paperwork later. He asked her if she would like to go with him to his office and the two of them disappeared for more than an hour. Later the receptionist asked me to join my mother and the doctor. He explained the medications that he had prescribed for Mama and suggested that she stay in my home for a time. He wanted her to have healthy meals and time with family. He outlined a program in which she would slowly begin to help with household chores as she began to feel better and then he set up an appointment to see her in a week. He gave me a phone number where I might reach him if an emergency arose. Oddly enough Dr. Bandon did not just look like Bob Newhart but seemed to be a clone of him in how he spoke and acted. Somehow it was reassuring beyond belief.
My mother would be Dr. Brandon’s patient for years to come. At first I would accompany her to the appointments but eventually she went willingly on her own. He quickly had her working again at her job and monitored her progress continually, all without making her feel afraid that he was going to treat her in a way that was uncomfortable for her.
With the passing of Bob Newhart I remembered how much our family loved his many characters who were so human, so loving, so wonderful. I sometimes think that without him my mother would never have accepted her new doctor. Somehow Dr. Brandon was so much like Bob Newhart that Mama sensed that she would be safe with him and she was.
My mother had many recurring episodes of severe depression and mania over her lifetime. Because of her wonderful doctor she was able to work until she was old enough to retire. I would always have such gratitude and respect for the doctor who had served her so well. At the same time I felt that somehow I also needed to be thankful for Bob Newhart for being the man who brought so much joy into our home that we knew that we could trust him and anyone whose personality resembled his.
I enjoyed and loved Bob Newhart in every role that he performed. I could tell that he was a genuinely good man. The world was truly a better place with him in it. Little did he know that he also inadvertently kept an equally wonderful woman from being cancelled by her illness. His work on this earth was all so good. May he rest in peace and maybe if he has a chance look up my mother who was one of his biggest fans.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 