I chose this camera because it uses its 6.3 Megapixel SuperCCD HR sensor to produce high quality images I also like the
price at butterfly photo which is 269. And I love the xD picture card. Those things are really handy
Manufacturer: Canon USA, Inc.
Model name: Digital Rebel XT
Max resolution: 3456 x 2304
Zoom
capability: N/A
Storage method: CompactFlash Type II (no card included)
Storage capacity (w/included
card): N/A
Batteries used: NB-2LH (1
For english 4 I needed to write a mini epic about a hero. The artical I chose was Darci's doctor. It sucks because I wrote
it eairly in the morning but I got it done. The reason I posted this is so that I could print the artical.
A great man, the lonely protector of children in his youthful time
He who would go to the ends of the earth to save a forlorn soul,
Who wept with his people as they wept,
And sat beside them before a deathlike state took them,
He who fought many bleak battles, overcame them and saved many lifes,
Had finally surcumed to soft sweet rest and took his leave.
No longer in his once swift hands remaind the dexterity of a surgon
Who could battle the sickness beneath young flesh and over come it
He now left the world that he had conquered now left for others to explore and dominate
And the doctor, healer of the sick, the denyer of premature death, withdrew from the medical world.
For the moment anyways.
Retiring pediatrician: Child at heart
Grateful families bid farewell
as longtime pediatrician faces latest challenge: retirement
By ANN POTEMPA
Anchorage Daily News
Published: February 22nd, 2005
Last Modified: February 22nd, 2005
at 02:18 AM
Cake was already sliced at the birthday party when Darci Dixon walked in the door. The teen's cherry-red
highlights and Insane Clown Posse sweatshirt were a definite contrast to the guest of honor's tweed coat and tie, tight-clipped
hair and glasses that slid down his nose.
The venue was an unlikely hangout for Dixon, too -- a classroom at Alaska Regional Hospital. But the
16-year-old wouldn't have missed this 69-year-old's birthday and retirement party "because I love the man," she said.
For most of 30 years, Clinton Lillibridge was the only pediatrician in Alaska who specialized in children's
stomach and intestinal problems. He helped Dixon fight Crohn's disease, a condition that wracked her with stomach pain and
required special diets and eventually surgery.
Dixon credits Lillibridge with nothing less than saving her life. She'd fly in from Valdez to see
him. When she cried, he cried. When she needed surgery, he sat with her. As the anesthesia kicked in, he'd say "sweet dreams,
Darci."
And, "sometimes, when I was crying, he'd lean down and kiss my forehead."
Former patient Keri Banks came to the party, too, to recognize the doctor who helped her battle colitis
and recover after her large intestines were removed. Now 21, she's expecting a child, an exciting development, she says, considering
her past health problems.
Elaine Fauske came because her son David wanted Lillibridge to know he appreciated his help with juvenile
diabetes since age 8. Now in his 20s, David is a staff assistant for Sen. Lisa Murkowski in Washington, D.C.
Grateful parents jogged his memory by flashing their babies' pictures. Still others paraded their
kids by as Lillibridge smiled and said, "another success story."
One by one, they gave thanks on behalf of themselves and many more like them. In total, Lillibridge
has cared for 19,000 children since opening his private practice decades ago.
COMING NORTH
Of all the specialties laid out before him during medical school, Lillibridge settled on pediatrics
because it was all about children and nothing about what he calls "cases of." He didn't want to deal with cases of heart disease
or cases of pneumonia. He wanted to deal with families.
His nurse says he's part Marcus Welby, the good-hearted physician on television. He made house calls
and even held clinics on his sailboat, The Ghost, when he traveled to Seward. Even on vacation, his nurse would fax him patients'
questions every day, and Lillibridge would answer them every day.
"We were not off call, even in England," said his wife, Tricia.
His staff says he's also part Patch Adams, a doctor who used humor when treating patients. On St.
Patrick's Day, Lillibridge became a leprechaun. To put kids at ease, he'd wear a monkey puppet, allowing the monkey to come
to the door first, his nurses said.
He'd bring his dog Prancer to the office, just in case an anxious child needed something furry to
pet.
He's a jokester, known to write silly messages on children's medical reports and start his dictation
charts with riddles, just to give the transcriptionist a good laugh.
Medicine, however, wasn't the first career Lillibridge had in mind. In fact, his love for Alaska began
in 1955 when he came for the summer as a college student interested in fish biology.
For three summers, Lillibridge left the University of Washington and counted salmon in lakes and creeks
all over Alaska. But the young man from Olympia soon learned that in the 1950s, there weren't jobs for people interested in
marine biology.
Lillibridge shifted gears. He thought about designing hydroplanes.
"Well, when I flunked trigonometry for the third time, I realized I need some type of science that
doesn't require math and that I can make a living at," he said. He settled on medicine, but not without qualms.
Lillibridge's father was a general practitioner committed to his work. That dedication meant he was
never around.
"He promised we would go fishing, but then Mrs. Jones was having a baby. And there went our fishing."
At first, Lillibridge decided he wouldn't do that to his own family and steered clear of medicine.
But when he committed to the degree, he decided to focus on teaching and research, jobs that would allow him to be home at
night.
With graduation came that family. Lillibridge married and raised children. He finished residencies
at children's hospitals in Boston and Seattle. He then completed specialized training in gastroenterology, a branch of medicine
that treats disorders of the digestive tract. He settled in New York, where he taught and did research at the University of
Rochester.
During that time, he'd invite medical students to dinner and entice them with slide shows from his
1950s trips north. Today, two of those former students -- Drs. Jon Lyon and Phyllis Kiehl -- still care for children in Anchorage,
Lillibridge said.
During his stay in Rochester, Lillibridge started coming to Alaska for a month a year, filling in
for doctors who temporarily left the state.
"I was quite torn," he said. "Alaska was clearly the place I wanted to live."
But he was still raising children and wanted a job that allowed him to be a parent. He stayed in Rochester
until 1977, finally moving to Alaska for good. Since then, he's done everything from helping children who'd swallowed pennies,
nickels, dimes, even little plastic toys, to treating ulcers, intestinal diseases and failing organs.
At the time, pediatric specialists were in short supply. Ailing children relied on visiting doctors
who came to Alaska a couple of times a year.
Today, Alaska has more specialists, but Lillibridge remained the only children's gastroenterologist
until he recruited Dr. Allan Pratt. Pratt has taken over the business that Lillibridge left.
WORKING THE 12 STEPS
During his three decades in Anchorage, Lillibridge took care of more than just patients. He took care
of his colleagues.
Years ago, Lillibridge led the Physician Health Committee, a branch of the Alaska State Medical Association.
The committee's task was to find doctors who abused alcohol and get them help before they lost everything, including their
jobs. Later, Lillibridge started another group called the Alaska Practitioner Recovery Program, providing similar help to
dentists, pharmacists, and physical therapists.
Lillibridge's work was personal.
"I'm an alcoholic," he said. But he calls himself fortunate because his drinking never threatened
his career like he's seen it do to other doctors. He addressed his problem when his father and sister died of alcoholic cirrhosis,
a chronic liver disease.
"That scared me something terrible," said Lillibridge, who entered treatment 20 years ago.
The doctor has put in many hours on the committee, sharing his time and home with people who've struggled
through the same things he has, said Dr. Mary Ann Foland, who directs the Physician Health Committee. Foland said she respects
Lillibridge for sharing his own history with others.
"That says a lot for me about someone's personal recovery, that they are willing to open themselves
up personally in order to help others."
Lillibridge helped people like John Winczura, a nurse who struggled with alcohol and drug addiction
and is working with the state medical board to reinstate his license to work as a physician assistant. He said Lillibridge
was his professional sponsor, calling Winczura to see how he was doing and telling him when to report for urine or breath
tests to verify his sobriety.
The rewarding part, Lillibridge said, was seeing his colleagues come when their life was in shambles
and transform into happy, productive people.
"I learned that stopping drinking doesn't make your life happy," Lillibridge said. "The process of
living the 12 steps does."
"I wish everybody could get into a 12-step program. To admit when I'm wrong. To make amends, what
a concept. ... To accept people just as they are, not as I'd like them to be."
"I love them and cherish them just as they are. It's not my job to tell them where they messed up."
Winczura said Lillibridge has worked hard on his life, his morality and ethics.
"He was an excellent example to me of what a person should do in their life," Winczura said.
A SURVIVOR
Tricia Lillibridge calls her husband a survivor. When they got to know each other and married more
than a decade ago -- he a doctor and she a nurse at Providence Alaska Medical Center -- Tricia said they shared a connection
on life's dark challenges.
Both had spouses who had died. Both had children who'd been seriously injured or ill. Lillibridge's
young daughter died of brain cancer. Over the years, he's lived through marriages that ended. He cared for kids with complex
problems, saving many lives but losing some, too.
Over and over, people recognizing this history ask Lillibridge what he's going to do now that he's
retired. He says he'll spend more time on music, mainly singing with the Anchorage Concert Chorus. Lillibridge just wrapped
a performance in "The Flying Dutchman."
He and his wife bought land in Homer and will start building a home there, a home that will likely
be their main residence when Tricia retires in a few years.
He'll enjoy all the things he came to Alaska to do: hike, boat and cross-country ski. And he'll focus
on his photography, a hobby that reminds him of the work he did for 30 years.
"It ties in with pediatrics," he said, between guests at his party.
"The thing I like about pediatrics is kids are so enthusiastic. ... To a child, the sun coming up
in the morning is magic. That's what I try to do with my photography, try to see the same old thing with fresh eyes."
When he cared for ailing adult patients, they often asked for a medical excuse to miss work. But not
kids, he said. They'd be halfway back to feeling better and come to him begging to go out and have fun.
Keri Banks said she wants the same for her doctor. She came to congratulate him for so much hard work.
Now, she said, he should play.
Daily News reporter Ann Potempa can be reached at 257-4581 or apotempa@adn.com.
