Okay, I get it already.

Home } The Barbarous Craft } Okay, I get it already.

You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone. I get it.

Several years ago, one of our local primary care docs died in a kayaking accident. He was one of these sweet, gentle men whom you couldn’t help but like, and it turned out his patients adored him, too. I went to his memorial, and the outpouring of love from his family, coworkers, patients, and colleagues was impressive.

I remember thinking, more than a little selfishly, “If I died suddenly, I doubt I’d get one-hundredth this kind of response,” and, “You have to be a primary care doc to earn this much affection*.” I figured I would never know, short of a Mark Twain-esque visit to my own funeral. But at the time, I never thought I would leave this area. Which is kind of like visiting your own funeral, if you think about it.

So, yeah, I was wrong. And while the outpouring still hasn’t ranked with what Wayne got, I think my “one-hundredth” is a low-self-esteem underestimate. One-tenth, how’s that? Which is still WAY more than I was expecting.

Aside from the quilt (and that photo really doesn’t do it justice), I’ve gotten cards, hugs, countless guilt trips, a potluck today, more hugs, and a cool digital frame with a slide show just for me.

The steady onslaught surprises, overwhelms, stuns me. I clean ears. I take tonsils out. I don’t deliver babies, I don’t take the pain away from the beloved grandmother in her final days, I don’t counsel the teenager who is too afraid to talk to her parents about her drug problem or her sex life . . . do you see where I’m going with this? How does a booger doc warrant this sort of feeling?

It may be a question of personality. I talk to people. I don’t crank them through in two minutes. Our office works very hard to get people seen on time (it’s rare to wait more than five minutes in my waiting room, yesterday being the freakish exception), and we follow up on damn near everything. So maybe people respond to the idea of a doctor/office that cares, regardless of the fact it’s (usually) something non-life-threatening at stake.

Or perhaps the things I treat ARE a bigger deal than I give them credit. It’s all well to say that “life-saving” is more important than “life-improving,” but if you’re miserable with your sinuses or your reflux or your hearing loss and someone like me makes your life better . . . well, okay, I can see where that would earn brownie points.

Perhaps people regard quality of life as more important than quantity?

Thanks for bearing with this guy’s ego-show.

*And not just any primary care doc. Wayne was special.

Walnut, July 30, 2008. Category: The Barbarous Craft.

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8 Comments

Stamper in CA says:

July 31, 2008 at 5:37 am

As a teacher, I underestimate the impact I make on students until I get a card with a written message from a kid I never would have imagined would be so affected by my class.
You underestimate yourself. I value doctors who take time with their patients, and believe me, you don’t find many these days. There is a great deal to be said for any kind of a doctor who relieves pain/irritation/whatever the problem and doesn’t treat you like you’re on an assembly line. So, like they say in grade school, give yourself a pat on the back. You “done good”, and those people WILL miss you.

KraftR says:

July 31, 2008 at 5:41 am

Enjoy your kudos.

For what it’s worth, if you took out my tonsils, I’d be appreciative enough to make you a gift. Maybe not a quilt, but something really good. Display-worthy, even.

Or a lovely confection. I bake this awesome “angel-foody” type cake that uses ground hazelnuts instead of flour…. I bet you’d like that.

I HATE my tonsils.

No strike that.

Yeah my tonsils are worth a cake or something, but tubes for my 17 months old’s ears?

Priceless.

(He’s getting them, in October… we saw an ENT last week who spent a sum total of 55 seconds with us and spoke so fast, I could hardly keep up. I’m not really planning anything special for him though, so maybe your bedside manner theory has merit….)

Cheers.

Dean says:

July 31, 2008 at 6:28 am

Yeah, I think you probably underestimate yourself, too. I think if you died suddenly (and I’m not suggesting you try it to find out) you’d see some of that there outpouring.