Dr. Arthur Lyman Kinney

Dr. Kinney at the marriage of his daughter, Transcript Telegram, 1951





When I was a young lad, I outgrew my pediatrician, and my parents began taking me to Dr. Arthur Lyman Kinney, an older doctor who was, at that time, actually about to retire from practice altogether. Dr. Kinney had practiced in Holyoke virtually all his adult life. He was a memorable doctor. How can you forget a doctor who asked you to say "ah" while a cigar sat smoldering at its station on the table next to you? For years, Dr. Kinney held forth in his office in town in Holyoke, MA, but in his later years, Dr. Kinney saw his patients at his home office.

And I remember Dr. Kinney's home office. It was a small but airy and light room with a pleasant view of the Connecticut River. It had a beautiful oriental rug and a fine leather topped desk. However, Dr.Kinney's office was not overly dominated by medical equipment. In fact, except for a small white table containing his tongue depressors, stethoscope, Q-tips, and eye, nose and ear thingie, Dr. Kinney's office was simply a pleasant study, suitable for a professor of Chaucer, or mediaeval tapestries or something. In fact, medicine vied for space with Dr. Kinney's "other passion" - stamp collecting. A table facing the window invariably contained stamp books, tongs, hinges, magnifying glasses, reference books - all telltale signs of a fanatic philatelist.

Over the years, Dr. Kinney obviously became philosophical about medicine. In one incident, my father went to Dr. Kinney with a bad cold. After an examination, Dr. Kinney said, "Frank" he said, "you have a bad cold, and it's a good thing you came to me. Under my care, you'll be over this thing in 2 weeks, whereas, if you'd gone to one of those younger doctors, it would have taken you a fortnight to recover".

Indeed, by today's standards, Dr. Kinney may well have been more of a philosopher than a physician. I am sure that Dr. Kinney would have been more than a tad uneasy in today's world of medicine. Cat scans, complex hip replacements, laser surgery, fiber optics and interferon drugs were not rummaging around in Dr. Kinney's little black bag, worn smooth and cracked red at the hinges. I am convinced that with today's techniques and advancements, if you are ill or injured, today's doctors can run rings around anything Dr.Kinney could do for you. So why do I long for the days of Dr. Kinney?

Well, in part, it has to do with the suffering of uncertainty. When you went to Dr. Kinney, he told you what was wrong with you and what to do about it: either you got better or you didn't. One way or another, you had done your part. You had gone to the best around, and it was in Dr.Kinney's hands - or the Lord's.

Today, medical knowledge is so complex, so fractured, with such an onslaught of research, knowledge, new techniques, new treatments, that doctors are understandably hesitant to pronounce absolute, definitive diagnosis and prognosis. And in a time of unbelievable malpractice suits, this hesitancy is simply enhanced to a complete unwillingness to be specific, to be the final word, to take the responsibility - "this is what you have-period". I maintain that this situation leads to a further dimension of suffering: not only do you have what you have, but you are always left with the feeling that you could be doing more to get well. With Dr. Kinney, he told you what was what, whether he actually knew or not. He never inflicted on his patients the further pain of uncertainty.

Another "cost" of the modern world of medical specialization is the inevitable de-personalization. Patients went to Dr. Kinney for everything; he got to know the "whole you", knew everything about you. You knew you were a real person to Dr. Kinney, and after the exam, the talk, the shot of penicillin, you might even get a peek at his one cent un-cancelled Washington. Today, as you are passed from one doctor to another, this sense of being fully understood as a person as well as a body has diminished. Doctors I know may bristle at this, but I believe it is so.

Let me illustrate my point. An acquaintance of mine had to go to the hospital for complete “lower GI exams”. Awaiting the results, she feared the worst: she could be told that she had colitis or even cancer. As it turned out, the news was good, but came in the form of a form which stated:

"Colon --- Unremarkable".

Her feelings were hurt! Older folks who had doctors like Dr. Kinney will understand my point. I simply cannot envision Dr. Kinney, stripping off his examining gloves, turning with that craggy smile, one eye closed, and saying,

"Yes, my dear - thoroughly unremarkable."

Indeed !!

Dr. Kinney knew how to treat his patients - and he knew how to treat a lady.