This patient really needs an understanding doctor

Press, 14 September 1988, Page 17

This patient really needs an understanding doctor

My doctor has been seeing far too much of me lately. . He points out that this is my fault, not his. He would also like to point out that he did not spend all those years at medical school, followed by many more years in a busy practice as a G.P., for nothing. He did it so he could successfully diagnose and cure illnesses. Not so he could see people wait until they were so far gone that ignoring their ailment was no longer the answer. . I see my self-diagnosis (usually incorrect) and subsequent treatment (treating ailment with ignore) as a mark of respect for his very busy schedule. I much prefer to save him for big things like the plague arid severed limbs. He sees this noble attitude as gross stupidity. Despite this disparity in the way we see things, we seem to get on very well. His refusal to indulge my love of tranquillisers saw me permanently wean myself off them many years ago, yet he is flexible enough to allow

me exactly enough of them to get me through a long flight. I suspect that this is more out of consideration for the other passengers than for my inability to tolerate being shut inside, a container, however large, for any length of time.

I also have admiration for his perseverance and patience in the face of total obstinance. After a recent visit he told me to take two- weeks off. For various reasons I felt I could not dp that, but promised faithfully that I would. On my next visit he pointed out casually that I had been seen working and then watched with

some amusement as I tried to extricate myself from iny lie. He is a very consistent man. Not one visit goes by without a casual reference to my smoking and the dangers therein. My move into a nonsmoking building recently was an occasion of great joy for him. When I became pregnant with my first child he told me he didn’t “do” babies, but to ring him if I had any problems.

I suspect the thought of delivering another me into the world was just too much for him to bear. I like my doctor because he is realistic. While a balanced diet, relaxation exercises, and moderate exercise would all do me the world of good he realised very early on that this simple regime was beyond me. He now knows the best he can do is monitor my chocolate intake and hope that a green vegetable

occasionally passes my lips. A suggested course of yoga many years ago in order to help me relax was also of little use. The technique this woman used was to urge you to empty your mind. By the time I had sifted through the enormous amount of trivia in mine, filed in various compartments of my brain, and lingered over a few old memories, the class was halfway through its first relaxation exercise. I remember reading an article some time ago about how to find the right doctor for you. The article included a list of questions that it was suggested one use to establish compatibility. I am pleased to report that while I have stayed with our family doctor for a number of reasons it was his outstanding contribution to the next generation that really swayed me. I feel anyone who raises a son who goes on to create a Chocolate Chip Cookie Empire is a man after my own heart.