When I was very little I took it for granted nothing would
change, the doctor would always be the doctor, the dentist always the dentist.
Becoming an adult meant establishing those relationships all over. My very first “adult” doctor was my husband’s
family doctor, Dr. Borland. One of his
very first cases was the amputation of my husband’s great grandfather’s leg,
and he was pleased as punch to end his career delivering his fifth generation of
Noragon’s.
After he retired it was catch as catch can. I’ve always
found a shake down period required with a long term doctor. Don’t brush me off,
take time to answer my questions, believe me when I tell you a member of staff
is rude, and so on. I didn’t get on with Dr. Killian, who replaced Dr. Borland,
but he was a good doctor for the children. My oldest daughter still sees the
doctor who bought Dr. Killian’s practice.
I concluded a doctor or dentist is, after all, a business
proposition. My criteria were ability to
come to a mutual understanding and being my age or younger. I was tired of them
retiring on me. This actually has worked out quite well, except I look at my
primary care physician, with whom I have gone to battle on more than one issue,
and think, “My God, she’s reached retirement age. I don’t want to do this all
over again!”
This whole train of thought commenced this morning, in the
dentist’s office for my twice annual cleaning of the teeth. When the dentist
dropped by to check the hygienist’s work she told me the filling between my two
front teeth needed replaced.
My mind flashed back to that filling, the last one my parents
paid for. I was twenty one, at Dr. Benson’s office in the Rockefeller Building
in downtown Cleveland. The pain of the Novocain injection was so incredible
that when the filling fell out a few years later I would not let my dentist
replace it. I was in my thirties, and the dentist assured me that no Novocain would
be involved, the teeth had not deteriorated, the filling merely needed
replaced. It was done.
I told Dr. Kate (see how young they are now!) the history of
that filling being placed when I was twenty one, losing it, going without, and
ten years later finally having it replaced. “I wasn’t even born then,” she
remarked, before snapping back to attention and telling me no Novocain would be
required this time, either.
Contrasting Dr. Kate with my primary care physician’s age
was disheartening this morning. Dr. J definitely was middle aged when I started seeing her
twenty years ago. I feel that certified letter coming on, telling me she has
retired. I wonder if the next PCP will look over her shoulder when I call her
Dr. Real Last Name.
