The GOOD???? Dr. or Dentist – Part Two
A few weeks ago I wrote the above post and in part of it stated:
This has been brought home to me in ways I never thought I would experience.
Of course YOUR insurance will in most cases dictate “the who, where and how much for your healthcare”… so how do you know the person with the white coat is any good? You are putting your “health” in their hands -and do you even have a choice?
I put the series away in my brain partially because exploring my recent history with “Dr’s.” I AM VERY BIASED as to the “Good” and the Bad’ and the damned well ” Strike them from the register” type. My experiences come from a patient/ patient family member’s perspective not one from medical knowledge.
I realize other patients may have had completely different perspectives and experiences with THOSE SAME Dr’s. and Dentists BUT these are MY experiences and opinions based upon MY personal experiences and there are always two involved in these relationships – the Dr. and the patient. I may not always understand their world and I am damned sure most of them don’t understand mine. So I have hesitated to relive the medical journey of my experiences – some of my remembered experiences of late are too painful and other aspects are too maddening .
As I said this series was put on the back burner BUT recently every night as I try to lose myself in the world of television an advertisement for the Cleveland Clinic (Taussig) Cancer Center interrupts my respite – a face- I know all too well appears smiling – with white frame eye glasses to match the beautifully cut hair, a small diamond earring and the tailored white coat smiles
Ah! the benevolent
” or a minor miracle”.
theme of the advertisement as the face flashes across the screen- I remember hands, beautifully manicured , as cold as death itself and a demeanour/ bedside manner to go with them .
“we will take care of you”
As the advertisement continues and I recognize the places and people – I cringe, memories flooding into my over emotional brain, bile rising in my throat and I am jolted back in time to my experience of the obscenity of cancer and refractory Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, the Dr’s. -the cure??? and the journey. As the “commercial” ( because cancer is a commodity ) continues to appeal to those that need the “services
“-( buy our treatment – we care- we are the best- we cure and we may throw in a miracle and give the hopeless hope)
like the fast food come on for disease -. The next commercial for the best new car on the road follows and is in the same vein “Buy Me”!!! I resist the urge to throw something hard and heavy at the TV screen. And I realize that I need to get the “journey” down on virtual paper if only for the sake of my television set.
I also came across a sketch a few days ago drawn by my son whilst searching for something else, completely unrelated ( see above The White Coat of Dr. Death) – I shuddered when I saw it – it was done many years ago when he was very young – but once again his artwork speaks (could it be from premonition?) I too will speak – so here we go :
Do you remember your first Dr.? I do , I suppose I was Gavin’s age- just about three- in London England – under the British National Health Service – I presume we went to this Dr. because were in his catchment area.
I remember his house – his surgery must have been in his home as I recall seeing the open door to his kitchen- his name was Dr. Moriarty ( not of Sherlock Holmes’ fame) I remember his name because there was a game that my Dad used to play with uncles and cousins at family parties, through the years that game would always remind me of the “Dr.” – “Are you there Moriarty?” –
The room was shades of brown and smelled of what I now realize was stale cigarette smoke and drink. Dr. Moriarty had a very unkempt look about him – he had whiskers more from lack of shaving than of a deliberate beard – and looking back I believe he must have imbibed quite a lot- he certainly wouldn’t have still been on the lists in this day and age.
He had braces ( suspenders) keeping up rough working man’s trousers that hadn’t seen a pressed creased for many years ( a far cry indeed from the Cleveland Clinics Dr. of the knife creased Armani -like trousers and Italian leather loafers)- I think I remember those rough trousers because they scratched my skin when his lifted me up and they were covered in fallen cigarette ash. In fact I can see him now, him sitting down writing something ( my chart perhaps) at a big wooden roll top desk as a cigarette dangled from the side of his mouth- the ash got longer and longer and I was fascinated as to when it would finally fall off- it did and landed on his trousers, he made no move to brush it away or in fact notice the burning tip of the cigarette ( sans filter) was getting dangerously close to his mouth. He didn’t have a shirt on but sort of a long john underwear top. In later years seeing the photos of Albert Einstein and his hair I would remember Dr. Moriarty.
My mother was very worried because I had very little appetite ( if he could but see me now :)) Instead of weighing me the Dr. picked me up like a sack of flour to judge my weight and looked into my eyes.
Her eyes are clear and she is fine just make sure she drinks her milk and give her a tablespoon of Codliver Oil and Malt( with butterscotch and honey) every night before bed
was the diagnosis….. I can still taste it these many decades later- it wasn’t as bad as you may think and I looked forward to my nightly tablespoon. When Chris was ill and struggling when he came back from Texas I tracked down a place to order some , thinking it might help his strength, but the order was never placed- there was no need………… https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2010/12/11/december-11th-the-beginning-of-the-beginning/
I don’t remember ever seeing Dr. Moriarty ever again. The next time I was ill and tucked up into bed the Dr. who came – that is right they made house calls - was indifferent – old – sterner – not patient and smelled like medicine . I remember him putting his Dr’s. bag on my bed and taking out a bottle of horrible white stuff that had to be shaken – it tasted like what I believe disinfectant would taste like. I would have none of it – spat it out all over him- he was not amused -. I refused to take anymore of the vile tasting stuff- he gave my mother a bottle of cherry flavoured syrup for my throat. He said , very crossly,
“It won’t do her a bit of good” but she won’t take what will”
- The bottle of white medicine stayed corked and I don’t believe I ever remember seeing him again .
to be continued……….
All writings are based upon my personal experience , memories and perception of the events.
Entry filed under: a Cow -elle opinion, Chris Ritchey, death, Doctors/Physicians, health, hell is other people, medical, personal opinion. Tags: Angela ritchey DO, Cancer and Clinics, Cleveland Clinic, Cleveland Clinic Commercial, death, Doctors, grief, healthcare, Marketing Health Care Cleveland Clinic, mothers and sons, opinion, Physicians.