It was the early 1930s in Chicago during the Great Depression. A doctor told this story to his brother…
Dr. Brown late
one night was awakened from a sound sleep by the phone ringing. He groggily
groped for the receiver trying to find his glasses on the nightstand.
A husky voice on the other
end pleaded, “Is this Dr. Brown?”
The doctor reassured the
caller that he had reached the right number. The male voice became more
desperate, “Can you come quickly? It is a matter of life and death.”
Again the doctor reassured
the caller, “Yes, of course, where do you live?” The voice mumbled a number and
street as the doctor found his pencil and pad of paper, he asked the man to
repeat it. “It is 17 Alan Street, please hurry.”
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| State Street Chicago 1930s. |
Since it was the middle of the
night, the doctor drove across town quickly, not having to fight the regular
traffic. He drove into a neighborhood that was in a poorer section, that was run
down. He knew many who would not venture into this area even in the middle of
the day.
He found the street and then
the house number, but oddly no lights were on at the
address. He hesitated, then grabbed his bag and walked up to the front door. He rang the bell and waited, no answer, so he rang once more. He tried a
third time--still no response.
As he turned to leave he
heard a gruff voice, “Who’s there?”
It’s Dr. Brown, someone
called for medical assistance.”
“Nobody here called you. You
best leave.”
The doctor retraced his steps
to the car looking to see if he might have read the number wrong. He had
written the number “17.” He looked around, but none of the homes on the block
had lights on. He headed home wondering if it had just been someone’s idea of a prank.
He did not receive a follow-up call that night or the next day, so he soon forgot about the incident.
Several weeks later he received a call from the hospital requesting he come to
the emergency ward immediately.
A nurse at the reception area
told him that a patient who had been involved in a severe accident had begged
the staff to call him. She told him the man did not have much longer to live.
She escorted him into a large
ward where a man heavily bandaged lay in a corner bed. Dr. Brown glanced at his
chart, but he did not recognize his name.
The man looked up at him,
“Dr. Brown, you don’t know me, but I have to talk to you. I need to beg your
forgiveness.”
Puzzled, the doctor moved to
the side of the bed and nodded to the nurse to leave. The dying man continued.
“Several weeks ago I called
you late one night.” He hesitated and then continued, “My family, …I have been
out of work for months, there was no money, I couldn’t feed my children…”
As his voice faded, the doctor
leaned forward to hear his words. “I need your forgiveness.”
More confused, the doctor
shook his head no and stated, “You don’t…”
The man gripped his hand
stopping him, “Yes, I do. You see that night I had planned to kill you. I was
going to take your money and instruments.”
Horrified, the doctor managed
to reply, “But you didn’t kill me.”
“I intended to, but when
I saw the big powerful young man standing at your side I was afraid. So I sent
you away. Can you forgive me?”
“Yes, of course.” Dr. Brown replied in a daze. The man’s grip loosened and fell from the doctor's hand. He
had held it the whole time. He took one last gasping breath and died.
As Dr. Brown recounted this
story to his brother he paused, "I suspected it was just a prank. I came close to death and didn't even know it. I didn't know that my guardian angel had saved
my life that night." He shook his head in wonder, "he only appeared to my
assailant."
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