My husband says that persistence pays off. I would have to agree.
The other day my phone rang. I answered it and the caller asked if I knew who I was speaking to. The voice was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“This is Dr. Santiago.”
Can you imagine my surprise? The elation taking place within my spirit? I was in shock. A very good shock.
I had located my fine doctor about two to three weeks ago, finding out that he will now be practicing in Arizona at the Muhammed Ali Parkinson’s Research Center. A bittersweet finding. Sweet because he’s in a place where his gifts can be used to their fullest and bitter because he’s so far away. But, I am determined to make it work (as is my husband). Why? It’s worth it to me.
Worth it to know he cares.
Worth it to have someone who knows my history.
Worth it to know he cares.
Worth it to know he takes his role in my care seriously.
Worth it to know he cares.
Worth it to know he keeps up on the latest research and advances.
Worth it to know he cares.
I know I reiterated ‘he cares’ more than I probably needed to or more than you wanted to hear it. But the fact is, it is so important to feel like your physician is more than just a professional who is overseeing your care. I’ve had ‘professional’ doctors oversee my care in many areas, and for the most part, I felt like they didn’t care at all. If you asked my fine doctor my husband’s name, he’d know it. If you asked him how many kids I have, he knows. If you asked him my fears, he knows them. He knows how I’m feeling before I tell him. He has taken the time to know. Now, you may say, “That’s easy. They shuffle through their notes before they enter the room to freshen up on the next patient.” (Yes, doctors, we know you do ‘cuz we can hear you out there looking longer than it takes to review the b/p and weight stats.)
Not my fine doctor. And I have listened to see if he does. He removes the folder and immediately comes in. He goes over the b/p with me as he pulls his stool in front of me. He goes over my weight (unfortunately). And then, in the course of the visit, you know what he does? With no notes, no shuffling back to three years before, not looking at cheats he wrote on the palm of his hand, he asks… “How’s Tamara doing?”
Tamara is my beautiful daughter who went with me once during the first year of my seeing my doctor. That was over five years ago. Then he asks the next question.
“How’s that little granddaughter doing?”
He asks if I’m still struggling with this or dealing with that. He needs no notes. And I am not special in this regard. I can guarantee he does that with all his patients.
He isn’t superdoctor with super memory skills. His advantage? He cares. Enough to know who his patients are. Enough to get to know them and where they hurt not just physically, but emotionally as well.
So, I’ll be seeing my fine doctor once again in August. Because it’s worth it to me. Because he cares.




