Back in the 90s, we moved to the city I currently reside in and, being the good parents they are, my parents found us a family doctor.  I don’t remember going to her very often when I was young; thankfully we were healthy kids.  When I was in highschool, I went for a real checkup, most likely a physical [my memory is fuzzy] and I had to get some blood work done.

I was terrifed.  I don’t like needles to begin with but I was more worried about what the blood test would reveal, what diseases were lurking in my body, unknown, and really, causing me no problems.  I felt like finding out would be the end.

So I worried and fretted during the time between the appointment, my bloodtest and the results.  I couldn’t figure out how it would work:  would they call me if there was nothing wrong?  Would they call me only if there was something wrong?  Would they forget me?  Would my results be mixed up at the blood taking clinic, just like the heroine of my favourite book, The Blue Castle (L. M. Montgomery).  This sort of gave me pause:  it would suck to have the results mixed up but the happy ending that followed that book was tempting.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, I called the doctor’s office to find out if my results had come in.

They had.

So I asked if she [the receptionist] could tell me what they were.  She said I had to come in so I assumed I was dying.  I begged her to tell me on the phone; I thought I could handle it better on the phone.  She said she couldn’t and I burst into tears.

And went to see the doc.

She said I had low iron and prescribed some iron pills.  I remember going home and thinking that this was horrible news, even though my mom has the same thing she was perfectly fine.

I got over that, but not over my fear of blood tests.  And sadly, despite my fear of being anemic, I did not (and have never) taken my iron pills with any regularity.  If I only took them with as much dedication as I did my sugar fixes,  I would have been in good shape!

[And now let me return to the point of this entry]

My family doctor for over a decade was the absolute worst:  her bedside manner was horrible, she was often insulting and rude and you could tell she hated her job, or her patients or both.  She would give you diagnoses (I speak mostly for my mom now) without emotion, or empathy.  I don’t expect her to be bawling as she tells you some bad news but couldn’t she show some compassion?  She had none.  I wonder if she thinks God will reward her in heaven for having saved all her smiles on earth.

Anyway, in University I was having some problems and feeling pretty blue, so I went to talk to her, thinking that she could perhaps suggest a counsellor.  And to my embarrassment, I started to cry while explaining what was going on.  She had a box of kleenex in front of her and she didn’t even offer me one.  She just sat there and watched me cry, and I wiped my eyes with my sleeve.  Finally she asked, “So, what do you want me to do about this?  What’s the problem?  Many people go to university and have no trouble with it.”

I was aghast and I never went to see her again.

And when a new clinic opened up, my mom transferred all six of us to this new doctor…who is so wonderful!

I love her.  She’s modern, calm, and seems to enjoy her job.

She’s also very serious though, and you can tell that she’ll talk straight with you if she needs to.

I’ve gone to her more times in the last year and a half that I’d gone to the other doctor in five years.  I feel comfortable telling her what’s going on and she actually asks “Is there anything else you want to talk about?” at our appointments!  She never makes you feel like she’s rushing you and you get the feeling that she wants to know about you as a patient.  Last year I had my first physical with her and I had to have some bloodwork done.  I dreaded it so  much that I put it off for almost a year and a half.  I finally got it done a couple of months back and today (at physical exam #2!) I got my results.

I’m ok.  It’s no surprise that my iron is still low.  I’m committed to taking the pills again.

I’m surprised, given my weight and my poor diet but I guess God is giving me a chance to get my act together.  I had the confidence to ask her what she’d recommend I do for weight loss.  She talked frankly, recommended WW and told me to make an appointment with her six months after I start the program [hehe, I guess she picked up on my procrastinating] to follow up.  She makes the uncomfortable parts of the exam [am I the only one that doesn't enjoy being fondled by her doctor] not…pleasant exactly, but not a big deal either.

She just seems to be on top of her game, knows what’s going on and answers questions.  When she told me the results to anything and said they were ok, I’d ask her what “normal” was and she had no problems explaining.  I liked that.

Anyway, I’m just glad I have a doctor that I can go to and feel comfortable with.  And I’m glad I’m doing ok.

Filed under: Health by jummy