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3.20.2012

FAR MORE THAN A BOTTLE OF PILLS

I have a most interesting medical doctor.  Today, upon arriving at his office for yet another appointment following up from an appointment last week, I waited a bit longer than usual in the examination room.  There is no doubt I am one of his favorite patients. A fact that he tells me from time to time usually after I lament how he probably wishes he had simpler patients that weren't so complicated and puzzling. Many times he takes all the rooms ahead of me so he can spend a bit longer with me because he knows I usually make him behind schedule.  My sister, an RN, recommended him to me when I needed a new doctor to handle my crap load of chronic ongoing medical problems after moving back to this area. The first time he walked into the exam room and I laid eyes on him, I chuckled.  He wore a bow tie.  Now before you think he is old, he is my age.  Born in 1966 the same year I was.  I don't necessarily consider myself part of the bow-tie wearing generation, so I find both humor and appreciation for his uniqueness.  Both things are never lost on me.   I am a talker, an expressor.  He is not.  On the heels of my very first visit with him several years ago, I had poured out my heart and my frustration in an endless stream of words.  When I was through, I turned and asked if he had any thoughts or words.  His response, "No, you said enough for both of us!"  I instantly loved him!  He gave me free medicine when I was going through a divorce and caught between very high deductibles until my financial state improved.  He comforted me as I sat in his office, when, the day after a confession from my first husband, sobs took me for a bit.  My health has been tenuous at times over the years after being diagnosed with insulin dependent shot taking Type I diabetes when I was 32.  That disease has caused a cascade of other autoimmune diseases as well.  You combine those things with my personality of relentless, pushing, conquering, questing, always-looking-to-make-anything-better and it is a collision course occasionally.  You cannot always control disease.  It is bigger than you.  My desire to not let it control me has led to some very frustrating times over the past 13 years.  He constantly lets me free stream my thoughts and questions about trying this or that, what he thinks about this theory or that theory, this naturopathic idea, and my frustrations.  At the height of my frustrating periods, he has let me cry it out in anger at the instability of it all.  He has held my hands or hugged me.  Always does he validate my frustration and tell me to go easier with myself.   He reminds me that I take good care of myself but much is just beyond my control.  We talk about our families, kids, mates, my life remarried, wine and his boat.  Today he showed me a picture on his phone of the Romanesque outdoor sunbrella material curtains he made for their patio.  I asked where in the hell he buys his bow ties and why.  We conversed about a restaurant we both love and weird exotic meats that are good.  He gives me full permission to keep questing to make things better with my health.  But, he is also the foundation to remind me much is not in my control - to relax more.  I thanked him today for listening and letting me get out my frustration last week while in his office.  That I left last week with my mind clearer and my spirit a bit lighter but that I still wanted things better.  His response, "You make my life so much more interesting."  Humor and truth were rolled together in his words and on his face.   I took him a bottle of red wine for Christmas.   Next year, I'm thinking about a bow tie.

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