It is my good fortune that I need to see a doctor only for the annual physical checkup. She is a charming young lady: young compared to me, that is.Nate Kitch/The Globe and Mail
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It is my good fortune that I need to see a doctor only for the annual physical checkup. She is a charming young lady: young compared to me, that is. It would be nice to see her often – but not in her office, and not as her patient.
However, with each passing year, more parts of my body scream for attention, and before long my visits to her office are likely to become a frequent affair.
I was feeling great on the afternoon of my last checkup after a lunch of homemade vegetable soup with crusty bread. The sun was shining and birds were singing when I walked over to the clinic, whistling a well-known Sousa march.
The nurse led me directly to an examination room, checking my weight and height on the way. I had gained one kilogram and shrunk a centimetre since the last checkup.
Once in the cubby hole, the kind lady instructed me to "strip down to the underwear and wait for the knock," and left, closing the door behind her.
While taking my pants off, I noticed a laminated notice beside the examination table. It said: "A checkup is just that, a checkup. The doctor will listen to minor problems that may have a bearing on the examination, but patients should make a separate appointment to discuss serious issues."
The knock came as I was wondering where my issues lay in the spectrum of seriousness. Doctor Shepherd entered with a big smile and said, "It is 13 months since we last met. How have you been?"
I replied, "Yes, it was a long time in between visits. There was nothing seriously wrong, just some niggles. I should set another appointment to discuss those."
"Tell me the more important ones, and we can decide whether another consultation is necessary," she said. "Before you begin, let me tell you that your tests after the last checkup were fine, and your weight and height patterns are consistent with your age."
"I assumed that much when your office did not call. My biggest problem now is a cough. It is like a constant din from an out-of-tune amateur orchestra."
"Coughing is caused by the dry air our city is notorious for. I am sorry, I can't do much about it. If you moved to the coast, the humid air would solve your problem."
"The next issue is that I get tired rather easily; I am out of breath after climbing one flight of stairs, and the knees go wobbly."
"As we grow old, our organs and joints start to show the wear and tear they have suffered through the years. Again, this is something a doctor can't help until it gets much worse. For now you have to bear it, preferably with a grin."
"The last issue I want to bring to your attention: My right arm and shoulder ache. I used a muscle-relaxant cream and the pain disappeared, only to return a couple of days later."
"These too are maladies of your age. It is good that a muscle relaxant helps. You look young, but the looks are deceptive in situations like yours. … Accept aging as a natural process and be happy that you are doing better than some."
I wondered whether she was complimenting me for my appearance or calling me a cry-senior. Either way, she considered my ailments not worth a sheet from the prescription pad.
Disregarding my confusion, she said: "Lie sideways, facing the wall, with legs folded."
I turned over and closed my eyes, expecting unpleasantness. She conducted the test and pronounced her satisfaction with what she felt. Once the glove was off, she scribbled a prescription for blood-pressure pills.
"Should last till the next checkup," she remarked, handing me the tiny sheet. "You can now dress up," she added, and left, closing the door to protect the remaining shred of my modesty.
On my way out I met Dr. Lamb, Dr. Shepherd's partner.
After exchanging pleasantries, she told me that she was moving office but did not know where her new office would be. "Dr. Shepherd is retiring and this space is more than I would need," she added.
I was surprised: Dr. Shepherd had not mentioned it to me.
I resisted the temptation of talking to Dr. Shepherd because her partner may have spoken out of turn. I did ask Dr. Lamb whether she would take me as a patient.
"I do have a full practice, but I will take you – so long as you don't go around telling others," she said in the tone of someone bestowing a great kindness, and disappeared into her office.
I trudged home, feeling sorry about losing my doctor of 30 years, to whose office I could walk. Finding a new one was poor consolation, since who knew how far her new office would be, or how much longer I would be able to drive?
My noble wife saw me slump into a chair. She noticed my sadness, poured me a cup of tea and heard me out.
After a pause she said: "I am glad you will have an experienced and compassionate female doctor. You could have been stuck with a blasé male straight out of school."
The wise observation took the bitterness out of the second cup of tea.
Sudhir Jain lives in Calgary.