When I lived in Orleans in northwestern California from 1971 to 1977 the nearest doctor was 40 miles away in a medical clinic in Hoopa Valley on the Hoopa Indian Reservation.
This doctor did it all from setting broken bones, stitching up cuts and digging bullets out of people. If major surgery was required or the birthing of a child we had to drive 85 miles to the hospital in Eureka. I do not remember any ambulance service. If there was a medical emergency you were at the mercy of neighbors to provide first aid and get you to Hoopa. Some vehicle accidents, usually caused by excessive drinking were fatal and it could be days before somebody noticed a vehicle down off the road near the Klamath River below the highway. Those that survived had to crawl up to the highway in hopes somebody would stop and take them into Hoopa.
When we lived in Gold Beach on the south coast of Oregon, there was one doctor for the town of about 1500 people. He worked out of the hospital doing everything from emergencies to clinical work. To see the doctor you just went to the hospital emergency room and waited your turn. When I developed an infection on the side of my waist that prevented me from keeping my pants up it was time to wait my turn in the emergency room. Once I was called into the exam room the doctor had me lay down on a table where he proceeded to cut open the infection in order to drain it. Afterwards he told the nurse to pour peroxide on it and bandage it up. I was sent home with a prescription for antibiotics and instructions to soak in the bathtub daily with Epson salts. During the cutting procedure I was not given any local anesthesia. There was a water pipe on the wall adjacent to the table that I hung onto thinking I might break it while dealing with any pain. It all reminded me of the wild west.
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