James Derham (c. 1757-1802?), also known as James Durham, was the first African American to formally practice medicine in the United States though he never received an M.D. degree.
Derham was born into slavery in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He was owned by several doctors, and one of his owners, a physician named Dr. Bob Love, encouraged him to go into medicine. By working as a nurse, he purchased his freedom by 1790. He opened a medical practice, and by the age of 20 his annual earnings exceeded $3,000.
Derham met with Dr. Benjamin Rush, the father of American medicine, and Rush was so impressed by Derham that he encouraged him to move to Philadelphia. There he became an expert in throat diseases and in the relationship between climate and disease.
He also had 10 siblings. Derham disappeared after 1801 and died of a heart attack.
Jimmy was a typical regular guy
Never contemplating what might happen if he died
People tried to tell him but all he did was sighed
They walked away without guilt
Knowing that they tried
Life was going smooth
Everything seems really cool
Working on the weekends
Doing good in school
Jimmy had no problems
He had money, he had health
No need for nothing
Nothing but himself
Then one night he had a strange dream
Images so vivid it could have been reality
An ugly head was raised
Jim let out a scream
I'm glad I wasn't there
It would have got the best of me
Then one night he had a strange dream
Images so vivid it could have been reality
An ugly head was raised
Jim let out a scream
I'm glad I wasn't there
It would have got the best of me
Then it all started and the chase began
His neck was within inches
Of the deadly clutching hand
Tossing and turning, all to no avail
Once you think you've lost the beast
He's racing down, racing down your trail
Feet feeling heavy
Eyes stung with sweat
Darkness approaching
Traps of death have been set
Feet feeling heavy
Eyes stung with sweat
Darkness approaching
Traps of death have been set
What a bitch
His dream became real
No one was around
Who might care now?
He would feel
His bed became a sweaty
Sweaty place of death
His fate had been decided
Long before his dying breath
What a bitch
His dream became real
No one was around
Who might care now?
He would feel
His bed became a sweaty
Sweaty place of death
His fate had been decided
Long before his dying breath
No, it's not a dream
Don't even waste your breath
With those screams
"Jimmy!" Mom calls out of bed
Jimmy can't hear you, Ma