2.27.15 Really Meaning It

      My doctor turned to the print on the wall, in front of his desk.

      He said to me "Do you see the person in that painting?"

      I turned and looked at it, and said "Yeah."

      I've memorized his print. It’s a solitary figure. You can see their back, as they walk away from you, holding a walking stick in the right hand. It's a quiet scene. An indeterminate scene, with some things you know, like the quiet walk, the life, the day. And so much else you don't’ know. It's a dirt road, leading off into the distance, with huge trees shading the path.

     He said "I don't know that person, but I really like them.”

"That's me.” I said.  And he smiled, nodded his head.

     “I know I cooked my goose “I told him. "I'm just trying to use everything I can, to prevent further damage."

     He’s been going to India annually for years, something that works for him, while he stops messing with insurance like mine, specializing in chronic conditions his patients experience. Providing them with time. Patience. Measured holistic tools. Empathy. Support. Seeing him is like seeing a different species than normal doctors. I know at some point he’ll retire, the wise person he is, so I relish the times I see him, checking in.

     He tells me how cool my protocol is for the condition I have now; that he’s going to add some of it to his. He tells me how great it would be if each patient had a printed format of what they are doing and taking for their health, and a printed summary. “Just the way I roll” I joke.

     But it is. I need to organize; to have a good snapshot in my mind, both of what I am doing to address health, and the progress.

     “Yeah. Well. ”, I reply, with a smile. “Its hard. Really hard. So I just keep practicing. Being in the moment. Accepting what my life is. What else is there? It’s way harder to sink, than to swim.  It simply is what it is.”

     "I like that you're doing everything you can with your lifestyle.  " He said. “It's the most powerful thing. That, and the awareness you bring to it.”

     I thank him, really meaning it. The acknowledgement. The perusal of what I’m doing, to ensure I’m responsible, while avoiding medications, using holistic tools.

      I mean it, leaving his waiting room, emerging into the freezing cold day.

     Banking up knowing him, for the day when he will be off, no longer in practice, living the very same way.