For almost four decades, every second Thursday, Dr Peter Meagher has made the same quiet drive from Melbourne to Shepparton.
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Doing it in heatwaves and storms, through harvest season and school holidays, through births, deaths and a global pandemic.
And in that time, he has only missed two days: one when his dad passed away and one during COVID when the town was locked down.
“I should get an attendance certificate,” he said, breaking into a smile.
Dr Meagher’s journey began at just 17 when he started a Bachelor of Medicine at the University of Melbourne in 1975.
He graduated in 1981 and completed his first surgical role at the Austin Hospital, before beginning specialist training at the Royal Victorian Eye and Ear Hospital in 1985.
And after 14 long years of study, he was a qualified ophthalmologist.
“So, if I look old, it’s because I started 41 years ago,” he said with a laugh.
Shepparton eye specialist Dr Mark Roche was seeking surgeons skilled in new intraocular lens techniques that were replacing older cataract procedures.
Dr Meagher fit the frame. And from that offer, he began a commitment that would last nearly 40 years.
But the drive up the Goulburn Valley Highway wasn’t unfamiliar.
Growing up, he often visited his aunt and uncle at Radio Australia, riding bikes around the transmission towers on their 100-acre property.
“I’ve known Shepparton a long time,” he said.
When he first began consulting locally, Shepparton was far more rural. Patients regularly arrived with crates of apples and tomatoes — Dr Meagher often driving home with a boot full of produce.
He and Dr Roche worked out of a modest practice on Skene St. A house that was later cut in half, put on a trailer and taken to a farm.
“It’s probably still there. I’d love to see it again,” he said.
The early years were frantic. Patients’ names filled the columns and margins of booking sheets. Fifty patients seen a day.
When Dr Roche closed his practice in the mid-1990s, Dr Meagher continued alone, always preferring to work by himself.
“You can work the way you want to work,” he said.
He never advertised, deliberately keeping a low profile.
“I can’t be any busier than I am. I don’t want to be any busier,” he said.
However, he appreciates doing the testing himself, even though it slows him down.
“It’s fascinating,” he said.
“The eye is the window to the soul.”
Over the years he has treated generations of some families.
“People in their 80s say ‘You did my mum’s cataract,’ or ‘You did my daughters,’” he said.
He remembers a duck shooter who complained he was missing his targets; tests revealed he was legally blind. After surgery, the man returned proudly with a duck he had shot.
He remembers farmers coming back two weeks after surgery able to do everything they used to.
“The change in the 40 years has been phenomenal,” Dr Meagher said.
He has watched the region’s characters shift too, even in the names of patients.
“When I started, they were all named after precious gems, like Pearl and Ruby,” he said with a laugh.
“Then came the flowers, Violet and Rose. Now they’re all Zoe and River.”
Most of his work has been cataract surgery but he has also treated glaucoma, trauma, inflammatory disease and many children with amblyopia and squint.
He doesn’t want to leave and admits he feels guilty, but running three small practices has become increasingly difficult.
Equipment costs can exceed $100,000, regulations are growing, and he is only in Shepparton two days a fortnight.
“It’s not a good use of the facility,” he said.
He has been unable to find anyone willing to replace him, as he says the next generation aren’t attracted to working in a solo practice, but assures patients he is not leaving the Goulburn Valley stranded.
“I’m not leaving the Goulburn Valley without any eye specialists,” he said.
At 68, he will continue working four to five days a week at his Melbourne clinics. But for the first time, he is preparing for something he’s never had before: a long weekend.
“I’ll have no excuse not to do all the jobs I’ve been avoiding,” he said.
Still, the farewell is heavy.
“I’m saying goodbye to people I’ve known for 38 years,” he said.
“It’s like saying goodbye to a whole lot of friends.”