Dr. Robert Backus spent a large part of the 1960’s in the Peace Corps in Brazil, and completed part of his medical internship in South Australia
Country Doctors Carlos Otis and Bob Backus
Country Doctors Carlos Otis and Bob Backus “Country doctors” are a unique breed. They work nonstop, from early in the morning until late at night. . . or straight through. Their cars rack up countless miles each year, as these doctors visit those who can’t leave their homes. They treat their patients’ physical ailments, but keep an close watch on the emotional well-being of their clientele as well, knowing that the two are closely intertwined. They often sleep on cots in their offices in order to be immediately available for births, deaths, and emergencies. Against their own best advice, they eat meals on the run or skip them entirely. They earn tremendous respect rather than big bucks, and that’s the choice they’ve made.
Until his death in 1994, Dr. Carlos Grandy Otis, the founder of Grace Cottage Hospital, personified the country doctor, and became a legend in his own time. Anecdotes about Otis abound — his cough syrup made from maple syrup, whiskey and codeine, the lady who said her husband had heart pain, which she called “a touch of vagina,” and the man who charged Otis $8 to tow his car out of the mud in his driveway after Otis had charged him $6 for a housecall.
Dr. Bob Backus, who worked closely with Otis for more than fourteen years, has followed in his footsteps. Country doctors aren’t made, though, they’re born. Backus, who lived during his teenage years on the family farm in California, spent a large part of the 1960’s in the Peace Corps in Brazil, and completed part of his medical internship in South Australia. He’s seen and done it all, and there’s nothing he won’t do to help a patient; he’s a hero to many. Although Backus sees 30-40 of his 2,500 patients in an average day, which means about 15 minutes per patient, his attention is so focused that they often feel as if they’ve spent an hour with him. “If I ever have to receive bad news,” says one employee of the hospital, “I want it to be from Bob. He has a knack of knowing just how to deliver it, with compassion and even a touch of humor that’s perfectly placed.”
“Dr. B” is also very modest. He can’t stand adulation or notoriety — it gets in the way of the work he’s here to do. As for the “Vermont Family Physician of the Year” and “Service to Medicine and Community” awards he’s been given recently by his medical peers? His response is: “Just doing my job.”
