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| Yvon Rodrigues Vieira, M.D. |
The porch with pale green
floor with small hexagons, walls finished with cement, a rustic bench; that was
what composed the medical office chosen by the patients themselves, looking for
help and knowing there was a charitable physician there, who practiced his
profession really as priesthood. Often, when he came home from work, a queue
was already long from the sidewalk, passing through the iron full-time opened door,
until reaching the porch.
- October 18th, the feast day of St. Luke, the patron of doctors, is doctors' day in Brazil – another opportunity to honour my father. All days of my
life would not be enough to pay tribute to him.
At that time, there was no
SUS – Unified Health System – neither unique nor universal system. With the
1988 Brazilian Federal Constitution (CF-88), health has become a right of all
citizens and duty of the state. My story dates back to before the old INPS,
created only in 1966. Those who could not pay were treated as indigent,
entrusted to philanthropic entities. And many of them were abandoned; only God could
help them, as we used to say. Fortunately, in this primitive context, there
were people like my father through whom God helped.
- We were children, barefoot or with sandals, curious and worried about
the patients, close to our father while he was examining people; among their
coughs, sneezing and crying, we received natural immunization against several
diseases. Sometimes, we helped my mother to find the medicine prescribed in the
free sample boxes that my father received from pharmaceutical companies and he
kept them reserved for poor people. The prohibition on touching them was
rigorously respected - everything that is scientifically explained is well
accepted by children.
A man of vast culture and
great medical experience, my father was simple, practicing Catholic, of daily
communion and unshakable faith. As a young doctor, he had traveled the state of
Minas Gerais, in the service of public health; he had to face the most diverse
and difficult situations, sometimes in areas where he could get only on
horseback. University co-founder and professor in Belo Horizonte, in the first
half of the twentieth century, he never boasted about it and never received
remuneration for his dedication to teaching.
He was loved and respected
by all who knew him. Progressively consumed by a degenerative disease, he
gradually weakened for ten years – he lost his memory, his motor abilities...
However, he never lost humility, patience and the extreme politeness that
always characterized him; we were honoured to take care of him, but at the same
time uncomfortable to notice the gradual disappearance of a person with such
noble feelings and whom we loved so much. He thanked us all the time and
apologized for giving us work. He died a few days before turning 74 years old.
- Some time after my father's death, a drunken man was staggering in the
street right in front of our house - it was already in a time of increasing
urban criminality. He recognizes one of my brothers at the house door, although they
have not seen each other since their childhood, and he speaks to him; he wants
to hear from my mother. Nephew of an ancient servant who worked for us, he tells my
brother that the young people where he lives are no longer as they were, in the
past; but he always warns them not to dare to touch the house of Dr. Yvon, that
holy man who has helped them so much.
~~~~
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