GEORGE KINDERNISKOWSKI
[This is a story I wrote for today’s Family Mass in Marian Hall - the 6th Sunday in Ordinary Time B. I took a theme from today’s second reading from 1st Corinthians 10:31-11:1 where Paul talks about imitation - that one’s own life might benefit many. Then I took the example of Christ healing someone with leprosy. After finishing the story last night it hit me that this story might be over little kids heads. There wasn't enough time for another story so .... However, there are many parents at the Mass and the Religious Ed teachers after Mass might explain the story as an example if desirable. Amen.]
Once upon a time there was a medical doctor named Doctor George. He never went by his last name, because those who knew him were never that sure on just how to pronounce his last name: Kinderniskowski. [Spell out: K I N D E R N I S K O W S K I and then say, “Kinderniskowski.”]
When George was about eight years old his father was in a horrible accident. His dad was a welder of cars - turning regular limousines into stretch limousines. The company he worked for would take a regular big car - cut it in half - just behind the front seat - and then put in a middle section - and then weld the metal of the middle section to back and front of the car. In other words he helped make big cars become even bigger.
We see limousines at weddings and funerals and prom night - so George’s dad was one of the people who helped make them.
Luckily there was a burn unit in a hospital about 25 miles away and they got his dad there in time. But his dad needed a lot of healing and a lot of plastic surgery on his skin.
Sometimes accidents bring about nice surprises and sometimes surprises take a long time to happen.
Seeing his dad going through many skin operations on his face and arms and legs - healing that took a long time - hearing all about plastic surgeons - doctors who care for people with all kinds of skin and other problems - George slowly took on the dream of wanting to become a plastic surgeon himself when he grew up.
His dad recovered - getting back to the work he loved. His dad was glad every time he heard his son, George, say when old people asked him, “What are you going to be when you grow up, George?”
“I’m going to be a plastic surgeon doctor,” he’d answer.
George did it. He finished college - got into medical school - finished that - and then went on to become a plastic surgeon. His dad and mom lived to see all his graduations.
His father thought at times, “My son is doing the same thing as I’m doing. I’m working with cars and he’s working with people’s bodies.”
Fast forward 50 years and Doctor George Kinderniskowski - simply called by everyone, “Doctor George” was retiring. His mom and dad had died several years earlier.
There he was in a big hospital dining room at a retirement party - with his wife and four kids.
Doctor George thought it was going to be a nice small dinner - with about 25 people. Nope the room was filled with over 100 people - many of whom Doctor George had helped - especially 20 soldiers who had been burnt while serving in the military.
There were 3 speakers - and like the military people in the room - they were also complete surprises in being there - and they would give a speech thanking Doctor George for what he did for them.
Not everyone experiences such a moment. Teachers, waiters, waitresses, even moms and dads, sometimes wonder and worry about the big life question: “What have I done with my life?”
Doctor George found out that his life choice was a good life choice and that he made a difference in people’s lives.
The first speaker was a beautiful young woman of 32. She was a TV anchor woman on national TV. You’d see her sometimes on the Evening News.
She told everyone that when she was in the girl scouts they were at a camp and she was attacked, bitten and mauled by a bear. She told everyone that she found out later on that they weren’t sure she would live. She lived, recovered, but needed massive amounts of plastic surgery on her arms, her legs, her back and her face. Yes her face.
Everyone was looking carefully at that face - and couldn’t see a scar.
“This doctor is good,” she said.
She told everyone Doctor George not only fixed her up - but he wouldn’t let up till he had her perfect. It took years. It took a whole series of operations - but “Oooh la la,” she said - with a great twinkle in her eye, “he made me what I am today - with a TV camera on me all the time.”
The second person was a blind person - who was obviously born with serious bodily malformations. He also had Down Syndrome. He was a neat person. He had everyone laughing. He talked very childlike. He said, “Obviously I have never seen Doctor George - but I got to know him through his care for me - for his easy voice and kind words to me and got me all better.
This second speaker was short and sweet - and swept the people up off their feet to give him a standing ovation at this retirement party for Doctor George.
The third person was also a doctor - and also a plastic surgeon. His story was fascinating - because he said, “Doctor George worked on my hands for the longest time.” I had claws for hands. I was a birth defect. I was a mess. Kids bullied me. Kids made fun of me - calling me “Lobster boy!”
He continued, “Doctor George got me to be able to bowl and play lacrosse - in fact all sports. Doctor George inspired me to become a plastic surgeon just like he was.
Then he said, “I found out every year Doctor George would take a month off to go to Latin America or Africa or India to do work for free - especially for children - who were handicapped. They would round up - people who needed help - kids with cleft mouth - or kids having other facial defects. - and with permission of their families or guardians - George worked miracles on them.
He concluded, “I’ve been doing this myself with Doctor George now for the past 6 years because of Doctor George. He taught me to give back from what you got.”
Doctor George retired - but really didn’t retire. He spent the rest of his life still trying to help others - in any way he could.
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This story is fiction. The only semblance of truth would be that I have met some people who have volunteered their medical expertise in Third World countries.
