In 1971, I was a sophomore at the University of Colorado. My first trip to the Student Health Center was rather a disappointment. After waiting for about a half hour, I was called into the office of a rather young-looking doc who did not look like he was enjoying his day.
“What’s your problem?”
“I’ve got a yeast infection and would like some antifungal cream.”
“And how do you know you have a yeast infection?”
“I looked at secretions under my microscope and saw the yeast.”
Looking more vexed than ever, he reached behind him into a cupboard and pulled out a box of the needed cream.
“Here,” he barked, and flung the tube across his desk.
It skidded to the edge of the table. I grabbed it and walked out without another word. Not a big deal, nothing life shattering, but I wondered how a doctor could approach medicine like that.
How ‘bout a doc more like this:
“I would like a doctor who is not only a talented physician, but a bit of a metaphysician, too. Someone who can treat body and soul. There’s a physical self who’s ill, and a metaphysical self as well. So I want a metaphysical man to keep me company. To get to my body, he has to get to my character. He has to go through my soul.” Anton Broyard, Intoxicated By My Illnesss
(Thanks to my long-loved friend Liz who put me on to Broyard’s book.)
Here’s a few examples of dos and don’ts:
And I don't much like you either!
The surgeon exclaimed “I’m like you, let me die in the saddle!. But I can fix this with a wide excision and bone grafts from your skull!”
Could he not see my husband’s face, pale and grimaced beneath the skin cancer on the bridge of his nose, body language screaming “I’m not like you at all.”
Well...sort of okay
No warm fuzzy doc this radiation MD. He reassured us not with his discussion of “gray units,” “fields,” and “we’ll shield your eye.” (Oh now I feel better! A lesson in physics but the subject’s his face!)
“Are you okay with this?” I asked.
“Sure, no problem,” he declared, backing his beloved Jeep Cherokee into a pole.
Seeing I to eye
My heart sank. An old patient on the schedule, Ms. Big Hair with Big Demands.
“Long time, no see,” I said, “How are things?”
Lost job, big move, schizophrenic son, now menopause, insult on injury. We talked, we laughed. She’d found a sense of humor, and I my compassion. Two moms with hot flashes and sons.
Lest we forget
“Where did you go to college?” I asked my new patient as I glanced through the records she’d brought.
“Kent State.”
Looking up, my heart rate accelerated as I put down my pen. She was just my age. “Were you there when...?”
“My roommate died in my arms that day.”
Joint tears in exam room for a life long lost.
Judy, you are a great writer!
Lest we forget - how very touching. Dr. Yeast missed his calling - and it’s not being a Doc - maybe a drill sgt?? Great post as usual. Thanks. J