When I was a kid, there were not as many choices for doctors as there are today. There was the old-fashioned pediatrician who made house calls. As a budding first grade Typhoid Mary, I brought home Chicken Pox and infected the whole house. The doc came with his black bag and said "Yup. Keep 'em home," condemning my mom to whatever the incubation period was for probably a few bucks for the diagnosis.
Then there was the GP-the man who had an office in the front of his house, who examined us with a Popsicle stick in one hand and a cigarette in the other.