Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Choosing a New Doctor

This past year both our dentist and optometrist retired, leaving us stranded and abandoned.  If that wasn't bad enough, a newspaper article a couple weeks ago announced that our family physician is moving away. 

Yesterday we introduced ourselves to the guy who will step into his big shoes at the same clinic.  Our new doctor is 30, and, if I do my math correctly, he could be our grandson.  His smile lights up a room, and if I were on my death bed, I think there could be another biblical miracle.  How fortunate we are that young men like this are born with the desire to help others in such a profound way.

His philosophy had us smiling right off the bat.  He believes in giving his patients the best possible medical advice he can, and then hands over the final decision to the patient.  He views himself a medical advisor, as well as physician. 

I'm so afraid of doctors from growing up under the old medical philosophies, that it takes a real humdinger now to ease my anxieties.  I remember one time, a lot of years ago, the nurse had me take off my clothes, handed me a Kleenex to put on, told me to hop up on the torture table and the doctor would be right in.  Yah, right.  I'll bet I sat up there for a good forty-five minutes or more.  Finally, I heard the doctor's footsteps coming down the hall, stop outside my door, pause for about an hour to review my file, leaving me to stare at the door knob that finally and s-l-o-w-l-y turned.  He took one look at me and asked, "What on earth is wrong?"  I had broken out in blotches of red rash from my forehead to my toes.  I was dripping with sweat, and I couldn't remember why I was there in the first place!

Our new doctor reviewed our meds, answered our questions, relieved our concerns, and earned an A+ in all sections of our test.  I think our orphaned looks were obvious, cuz he jokingly assured us that he doesn't plan to retire for another 35 years.  If we can bear with him until then, he'd do his best to take care of us.

I liked him even more when he said, "And, I won't care what you weigh.  I'll just want you to walk, walk, walk, walk, walk."