As Usual, It’s a Matter of Perspective
I like Bill Releford. He’s a great guy. It’s just that I get tired of always talking about feet.
It’s not that the subject is below me. But, while trying to not sound immodest, I like to think of myself as a fella with a much broader range of conversational interests--Clinton’s health plan and Haitian politics, NASA and the NRA, batting averages and bad movies, global warming and good sex, etc.
So I’m drawn to discussions that are, shall we say, a tad more eclectic than feet. Like the other night, I spent two hours with a bunch of friends discussing why timeouts in football are better than none in soccer, the influence of African art on world art and how Latin music, unlike American music, has a more cross-generational appeal.
I know some of it is inane stuff. Still, I find it at least mildly thought-provoking. Now, Bill and I do touch on a lot of subjects, such as travel (he just got back from Tahiti) and music (I’m trying to borrow his Dee Dee Bridgewater collection) and investments (he’s buying beachfront property in Costa Rica). But almost invariably our conversations drift to the same subject--feet, or feets, as my Uncle Bud used to say.
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We were down at Fifth Street Dick’s the other night and, again, Bill brought up the subject.
“Man, you’d be surprised at what some people will stuff into a pair of $500 alligator shoes,” he said.
Bill, Bill, I interrupted, what’s up? You got a foot fetish or something.
“No. That’s what I do. I’m a podiatric surgeon. I work with feet.” I knew that Bill was a doctor, but I never concerned myself with what kind of doctor.
Bill, I said, I understand that’s your profession, but I’ve got a friend who’s a proctologist, and we don’t end up talking about his work, if you know what I mean.
“Well, you’d think it was a pretty important subject if you were lying in the hospital and the doctor was getting ready to cut yours off.”
Uh, excuse me?!
“Yeah, that’s right. If your name is Velma Hollie and you’re diabetic and three months ago a bunch of doctors had told you they’d probably have to amputate your foot and now not only do you still have it, but in a few months you’re going to be walking on it, it would be important.”
Hmmmm. My dad’s an insulin-dependent diabetic.
“Or I bet if you are Daniel Skinner, diabetic, and you’re still walking around your flower shop down in Santa Monica after doctors had scheduled you for an amputation, you’d think that feet were a pretty interesting subject.”
I was beginning to see why Bill was so serious about this question of people’s feet.
What drew him to this area is a long story. It certainly isn’t one of the glamour medical specialties. Let’s just say that while in West Africa as an undergraduate college student, he realized that “without the lower extremities, you have a big change in the quality of your life.”
So Bill became a podiatrist, moved back to Los Angeles and set up the Diabetic Foot Institute in Inglewood, tending to all kinds of foot ailments. And at least once a week, he explained, somebody walks into his office and says, “Mom (or Dad) has been recommended for amputation. What can you do?”
What Bill can do is fairly impressive. Through a special program at the Daniel Freeman Wound Care Treatment Center, Bill and five other doctors from different disciplines are saving feet and legs that other physicians around the city have given up on. That’s important, because most people don’t survive the first five years after an amputation.
And, at last count, my friend Bill had the highest healing rate of any of the doctors there.
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The fact that Bill and the other doctors are saving limbs is of particular note in light of a recent study by two University of Texas researchers. After surveying 3.7 million California patients, they found that blacks have a higher risk of lower leg amputation and death resulting from diabetes than Latinos or whites.
It’s not news anymore when blacks are at the bottom of the health care totem pole, but the study is disturbing because while Latinos have a higher rate of diabetes, blacks are the ones having the most amputations.
Exactly why, nobody is sure. Socioeconomic status, access to health care and lifestyle all may contribute to the disparity. One thing is sure, amputation is preventable. It’s just that a lot of people don’t know that.
That’s why Bill was pushing a concert ticket toward me. It is for a salute to Ella Fitzgerald next Friday to raise money for the American Diabetes Assn.’s African American Outreach program so they can tell people just that. There will be great music and wonderful food, Bill promised.
I’m sure there will also be somebody there talking about feet. And this time, I’d be glad to listen.
