The following was originally posted a few years ago, but when my website crashed, it ended up in cyberspace. I recently found a back up with several posts on it and am trying to restore them to Parkinson's Journey. This is one of the restorations…
I have a new doctor. No, I didn’t dump mine and contend for another. As most of you know, mine lost his practice because of lack of funds, and cutting back on Medicare closed the doors. I can say with certainty that he was the best in the west.
A patient never waited more than ten minutes, tops. His nurse was the best you could ask for. Dr. S. spent time with you as if you were all that mattered on his list of patients for that day. You knew he cared and understood what you were dealing with and what you were going through. He explained things in such a way so that you felt educated when leaving and could understand for yourself what was going on inside of you. He was compassionate and so very kind. And, he was funny.
But he’s not there anymore. The building is empty. Ghosts walk the halls.
So, I searched for a new doctor. Was pointed to 'the best in town', or so I was told. (Obviously, they didn't know what 'best' looked like, like I did.) The difference between the old and new was blaring. The new doctor (new to me but actually very near retirement) was kind enough, smiled at the right times in which one should be expected to smile, and all the rest that you might expect to pay for a kind enough, smiling at the right time neurologist, but he most certainly was not Dr. S., MD, MDS, VIP. Didn’t even come close.
I didn’t know this new doctor and he didn’t know me. Upon first impression, I was quite confident that I was not going to enjoy these ‘new’ visits, unlike those I had with Dr. S., who always had a smile, a laugh, a genuine concern for each of his patients. And, I NEVER had to strip down to my skivvies for an exam.
What in the world is up with that?
The new doctor became my old doctor immediately. (Note to readers: If you think what a doctor asks you to do is weird, it's probably weird. I surveyed about 20 people with Parkinson's and not one has ever been asked to disrobe for a PD exam.)
I came home and cried. I just want Dr. S. back but I know I have to grow up and I have to face this. Problem is – I don't want to. Waahhhh waahhhh.
Meanwhile, another reason I want my doctor back is for another situation my GP is concerned about. They’re wondering whether the lupus that some doctors thought was possibly a brain tumor and then wondered if it possibly had turned into MS, but ruled that out for sheer lack of evidence, finally settling that perhaps it was the PD starting in my early 30’s instead of Lupus – (take a breath) – well now they’re back to looking at Lupus AND PD, since my ANA is off the charts.
See why it's so hard to pinpoint a movement disorder? There's too many to choose from. It's like Cheerios. Original Cheerios, Honey Nut Cheerios, Oat Cluster Crunch Cheerios, Cinnamon Burst Cheerios, Frosted Cheerios, Fruity Cheerios, Yogurt Burst Cheerios, Banana Nut Cheerios, Chocolate Cheerios, Dulce de Leche Cheerios, or MultiGrain Peanut Butter Cheerios. So many flavors, all the same idea.
Movement disorders. Same idea. Different flavors. When you find a doctor that knows what he's doing, it's hard to let him go. But letting go is sometimes what you have to do. Until you find him again. But that's another story…
Until then, we are promised only this day – right here, right now – and I am so grateful I know the Great Healer and that we don’t go through anything alone. So very grateful.