When I was a boy, we actually had a kindly old family doctor, straight out of Central Casting. I still remember him fondly – tall, thin, white-haired, gentle-voiced, Henry Heller, M.D., General Practitioner.
He took a year off from his practice to go to Viet Nam. When he returned, in an unobtrusive corner of his office, there was a framed letter from his commanding officer, commending him for his bravery under fire.
When my age was still in single digits, I began experiencing shooting pains in my legs that would awaken me in the middle of the night. My mother told me they were growing pains, a harmless lie mothers have told their children for generations. Unconvinced, I demanded to be taken to see Dr. Heller. He examined me briefly, then let out a hearty laugh and pronounced, “You have a good foot. There’s nothing wrong with your foot.” And you know something? The pains went away and never came back.
It was about that time that they began to phase out general practitioners. I can’t see any good reason why. To my mind, a general practitioner sounds like a very good thing to be – much better than being the kind of doctor who says, “I can’t help you with your problem in your left big toe – I’m a right big toe man.”
I know that they are training more nurse practitioners to fill the void created by the demise of the general practitioner. While I applaud this trend, it remains to be seen whether they will be able to fill Dr. Heller’s shoes.
For most of my adult life I had no health insurance, and for the most part did not seek medical attention. I always figured in the unlikely event that I suffered a serious accident or illness, I would just declare bankruptcy. You can’t get blood out of a stone. But a couple of years ago my mother died and left me a modest bequest. For the first time in my adult life, I had something to lose, so I purchased a policy with a $10,000 deductible (not a typo).
Before I could buy the policy, I had to undergo a physical exam, I guess so they could exclude me if I should turn out to be one of those pesky people who actually need medical care. I couldn’t find a general practitioner, so I selected an internist. Tall, thin, white-haired, gentle-voiced, he had a little something of Dr. Heller’s reassuring manner.
In the course of the examination, I mentioned to him that I had occasionally been troubled by gout. I was impressed that he didn’t try to burden me with a prescription for six new medications, or even one. Since the attacks happened only about once a year, he recommended a strategy of watchful waiting, and I couldn’t have agreed more. That was two years ago. And you know something? I haven’t had an attack since then.
I enjoyed my encounter with him. But I won’t be making an appointment with him again. He’s already since retired.
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Dr. Evan Levine
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Comments
It's really difficult to find a great doctor these days. This is something else that can be blamed on the health insurance companies. Even if the doctors could be great, they can't because they are forced to see their patients in 10 minutes or less.
I may have commented on this before, but this venue seems appropriate.
I had a great doc, Dr. Shipman. He would take the time to sit and listen to you, and he believed you when you said something was wrong. He wasn't afraid to take his time in making a diagnosis; he would listen, order a test or two, listen some more, research a bit, order another test, and so on. He would not give up on you if your case was too difficult. As long as the problem bothered you, he would work to figure out just what it was.
Dr. Shipman got into trouble with the hospital he worked for. They wanted him to see patients in 10 minute increments; he told them that was impossible if they wanted him to practice good, responsible medicine. (If you're an 80 year old lady who's hard of hearing, 10 minutes doesn't even cover the small talk). Apparently, the hospital didn't care about docs doing a good job, just a fast one. They fired him.
I found out from a friend of a friend a few years later that Dr. Shipman--a relatively young man--had retired from medicine. He refused to practice medicine in a profit-motivated way, and malpractice insurance was too high for him to open an office on his own.
How sad, that we are losing the best docs we have to retirement or exasperation. The new docs don't seem to mind this way of practicing, but then again, they've never known another way.
I wish you luck in your search for a good doc, and I hope you stay well in the meantime.
I wish there was the black bag physician.
The manner of a manuel blood pressure.
Wonderful. The heart pumps. Listen Ay.
The arm rest on the physicians back arm.
Oh, blood rises if she's a good caring doc.
Physicians who cares. Walks. Leo Tolstoy?
He said:`Walking in the woods is Healthy.
There is a little green stick with the Secret?
Leo meant:`Find a underside of green twigs.
On the hidden side is written:`Secret to Joy.
Once I was in a meeting ref;`Nam, grunts, a
slow walks. In war You never step on a stick.
The veteran was a reader of: Rumi and Hafiz.
The walking in a war jungle on: Death & Life!
I never forgot. A death meditation. 7-month.
I'll share with a physician. I see Compassions.
While I was there, I had the temerity to ask the doctor who examined me a couple of questions about my condition (more for my own amusement than anything else). I'll say this for him, he did his best to answer my questions -- but he was talking so fast he sounded like an auctioneer. It was quite comical really.
Good healthcare providers need to learn compassion.
Some medical schools teach bedside manner; more of them should.
But 10 minutes leaves little time for compassion.
Nurses, too; nothing worse than a mean nurse when you're stuck in a hospital or nursing home.
I believe in mandatory personality tests prior to entering the field of healthcare; weed out the grouchy, the sadistical, the obnoxious.
And Medicare should attach specific time limits to reimbursements; that would effect change faster than anything else.