It’s cliche, but at some point it becomes reality, and doctors start looking like they’re teenagers.
We’re in a specialist’s office and he has just discussed a course of treatment. He picks up a little voice recorder and dictates notes that will be transcribed into my husband’s chart later (I know this because he indicates, as he speaks, where periods, parentheses, and new paragraphs are to be inserted).
He’s obviously brilliant. I catch the meaning of maybe every tenth word.
I think about the (young) medical practitioners I’ve seen in recent years, and how impersonal appointments have become. They spend a bulk of our allocated time together looking at a computer screen and typing in notes, eye contact and personal interaction isn’t what it once was. The voice recorder seems like a better option.
It also triggers a memory of morning meetings, and a fleeting desire I once had for a voice recorder so I could replay discussions that happened quickly, but that contained important information for the rest of my day.
The memory triggers a dream in which I’m pulled in to a frustrating meeting where I don’t know the attendees, many of them are late, and I struggle to understand why we’re all there in the first place.
I wake grateful that the days of endless meetings are behind me, that I’m in a new season where other things are more important, and I have time to devote to creative pursuits.
A little piece of tapestry is woven together with threads of time from the doctor’s office, my past work life, and my present days. This little patch joins others and, little by little, a rich tapestry of life is created. It looks messy on the back where long threads hang loose, knots have been formed, and threads crisscross one another seemingly making no sense.
But on the front, ah, on the front there is a design that’s not discernible from the randomness on the back. On the front, it makes sense. On the front, the pattern designed by the Creator becomes visible. It is beautiful, and it continues to be woven and crafted with ordinary day-to-day moments.
The tapestry of my life, connects to ones already completed, and others that are just starting to be woven. The sum is more beautiful than the parts.
And the work born from the Master Creator’s plan continues.
There is a short story technique called mosaic where you weave memories and dreams together to make a new piece. This post reminds me of that in a delightful way. It seems scary to me that you only understand certain words from the Doctor – to be expected but I felt huge emotions reading it this morning.
To clarify: I understood perfectly what he told us directly, it was the technical notes he dictated that were somewhat above my head as they were filled with medical terms. 🙂
AS I go into surgery tomorrow for my shoulder, I have the same reaction you do to doctors. Young, impersonal, etc. But he has a fabulous reputation and did a fantastic job on my husband’s shoulder replacement. So that is what I will take with me tomorrow as I begin the next adventure!
We are so fortunate to have found a young doctor who is intelligent and personable. He brings no computer into the room nor is there one installed there. When he speaks to you, he looks you directly in the eye. His demeanor is comfortable and warm. We feel so blessed! Yet he’s not the only doctor we see; others are not so special. This post spoke to me as my upcoming surgery is in a large, make that very large, teaching and research facility. I am overwhelmed each time I go there. Like Joan, I will take what others have said about the expertise of the doctors and the successes they have experienced.