Sunday, September 30, 2018

My Negligee

So.

I went to see the doctor.

The receptionist, a woman we've known for a long time, seemed to sense my anxiety and assured me, after I stopped to book in, that the Doctor I was seeing was a good guy. That helped. Like my own doctor, this guy was on time with my appointment. That was one of the first things I noticed when I came to these offices the first time, wait time for a booked appointment is never more than 5, or rarely 10, minutes past the time set.

He guided me down to his office and scooted by to move a chair to ensure I had enough room. I was able to take a moment to settle and gather my thoughts after he asked me why I was there. "There's so much back story," I said, "give me a second to pare it down." He waited. Then I answered his question.

One of the things I knew was going to happen was that I was going to have to drop my pants and bare myself a little. This makes me really uncomfortable. I do what I have always done. I pulled out a nightshirt, a blue, used to be flannel, one. I told the doctor that I needed to put my negligee on first. The doctor said that I needn't worry, that he's been around, "I tell people that if I see something I haven't seen before, I shoot it." I laughed and said, "Well, then I'm definitely putting this on, I don't want to leave here with gunshot wounds." I popped the night shirt over my head. Let it fall over my clothing. Then dropped my pants so he could see my lower legs. They were the issue here and the banter had somehow just reduced my sense of anxiety.

As he handed me my prescription, which he did after talking about the way forward and what we needed to do, I felt that I could trust the treatment plan. I had been involved, respected and heard. That's all I really ask from a doctor, or indeed, anyone.

I told him that I had been worried sick about seeing him and that past experiences with medical types had left me a bit fearful about seeing someone new, someone I don't know.

This was nice.

He didn't brush the compliment away. He took my word that my experiences with the medical world had left me a bit traumatized and that my fear was real.

He let me thank him and in doing so acknowledged, without question, that it was worth something.

That I was worth something.

So, I'm sick, but I'm going to get better.

That's the news for now.

4 comments:

Rachel S said...

The bigger news, Dave, is that you now have a second doctor you can trust. I hope this problem clears up quickly!

clairesmum said...

I'm glad you are on the road to getting better...and now you have a good doc AND a back up plan. That receptionist sounds like a 'good person' as well. Not 'just doing my job' receptionist, but someone who realizes that almost every person who comes in is worried...and the right demeanor helps put people at ease.
Hope you are feeling 100% soon.

Alicia Butcher Ehrhardt said...

That will be a great doctor to have as a backup, a part of your team.

In that situation, I'd share your relief. Congratulations at having navigated it - and at finding a human at the other end (staff, too).

People like us can't just go in without dragging the cumulative negative effect of other encounters with us. Glad you had figured out what might help, and brought it with you. I'll remember that.

Rosemary said...

I am so relieved for you. I just had a terrible medical-experience. It just is not right. Rosemary