One hears the most revealing things sometimes. I was at Dr. B’s office a few weeks ago for a physical, and it always involves a long wait. Usually I listen to podcasts or read to spend the time, it is kind of free time, when I don’t have to do anything but hang around. Dr. B’s office is in the heart of a busy east side neighbourhood and she sees a lot of older people who have moved to Canada from all over the world. (I have been going to see her for a long time, and like to people watch too.) The office is pretty small and pretty noisy and we all sometimes hear maybe a bit more than we should, though I can tell everyone who works there tries to be discreet and professional. Flipping through a Chatelaine magazine from 2006 I heard the following:
“Did A. get the message that she needs to come and see me?”
“Yes, but she has to look after ______” (I don’t want to put anything remotely identifiable in here. Take my word, it had to do with a lot of caregiving a loved one.)
“Oh that’s right, she has so much to look after right now. (Pause.) OK, I will go and see her at her house. I don’t want her to misunderstand this ________.”
There was more, but what impressed me was the fact that this patient was known, and her situation was appreciated. Being known, isn’t that what helps when one is scared, or sick?
I am terrible at remembering anniversary dates, and don’t send Christmas cards anymore. Email has taken over as the main way to communicate and that is fine, it works very well. During the Christmas season though, Dr. B’s tiny little reception area is full of cards and baking, which is very telling about the age of many of the patients she treats, and how people feel about her care. Over the course of the almost twenty years I have known this physician I have seen the office decorated this way quite a few times but rarely sent a card myself, I just don’t think of it. (This does relate to knitting! ) Just in time for summer, completely outside the holiday season, I think I will stick these great wool socks in an envelope.
The sheer ludicrousness of sticking knitting into a plant pot and trying to take a picture of it has not escaped me.