As readers know, I don't mince words when it comes to clueless doctors -- those who don't listen when their large patients describe symptoms, but instead look only at the number on the scale and assume everything that ails the patients will be cured with crash diets, dangerous diet pills or bariatric surgery.
I've known my share of those doctors.
But I've also had great care from great doctors.
A great doctor is one who understands medicine not just as science, but as art; whose in-depth knowledge of body chemistry and mechanics gives rise to a sharp, reliable intuition; who, despite clinic requirements to see a certain number of patients a day, and limit time with any one of them, still sees each patient as a whole person, not just a body that needs fixing.
My primary care physician, Dr. Hampton, is one of those doctors. She knows me well, treats me well, talks to me as one intelligent woman to another, and has never steered me wrong. In this day and age when health insurance is as precarious and changeable as a company's bottom line (I once worked at a job for four years, and our insurance was changed three times in that time period), it's been great to have Dr. Hampton's steady presence. This is the first time in a long time that I've cultivated an authentic relationship with my primary healer.
I've talked some about the insensitive surgeon I encountered on my journey to healing my achy-breaky knee, so it's only fitting that I give a shout-out to the majority of physicians who have served me well.
When I first went to the orthopedist Dr. Wilson, I expressed willingness to try steroid injections in my knee -- and he said he'd give me one, right then and there, although that meant I couldn't have a swim after my appointment, as I'd planned. He said I'd have to stay out of the pool (and the bathtub) for 48 hours.
When my pain increased rather than abated after the steroid shot, Dr. Watson saw me on an emergency basis, and took my pain seriously -- to the point that he prescribed an MRI, because he suspected small fractures. The imaging turned up no fractures, but rather an ACL tear that might have been new or old.
I was back with Dr. Wilson a few months later, to try Syn-Visc -- again, administered in the examining room, by the guidance of a hand and eye that knows human joint anatomy by study, experience and instinct.
Dr. Wilson put me in touch with the surgeon who turned out to be right for me -- Dr. Illgen.
For a joint-replacement surgeon, especially one who relies partly on robotic assistance, I'm willing to compromise on the "bedside manner" thing, as long as he strikes me as somebody who knows what he's doing when he saws into my leg. Dr. Illgen proved to be that competent. That he's also a human being is a real plus.
I've also had some competent and caring residents and physician assistants.
And partly through my brother, an ENT and head-neck surgeon, I've come to know the challenges faced by many people with a vocation of healing, who are thwarted by a tangle of regulations, policies, government- and insurer-required paperwork and (let's be honest) patients who demand way too much, or the wrong things, from their doctors.
Here's to the healing arts, and to all who practice them well.
And while we're at it, please meet my brother, Dr. Matt Hanson. He's one of the good guys. New York Magazine says so. I say so -- because he once diagnosed, over the phone, an ear infection that my husband's doctor missed completely.
I've known my share of those doctors.
But I've also had great care from great doctors.
A great doctor is one who understands medicine not just as science, but as art; whose in-depth knowledge of body chemistry and mechanics gives rise to a sharp, reliable intuition; who, despite clinic requirements to see a certain number of patients a day, and limit time with any one of them, still sees each patient as a whole person, not just a body that needs fixing.
My primary care physician, Dr. Hampton, is one of those doctors. She knows me well, treats me well, talks to me as one intelligent woman to another, and has never steered me wrong. In this day and age when health insurance is as precarious and changeable as a company's bottom line (I once worked at a job for four years, and our insurance was changed three times in that time period), it's been great to have Dr. Hampton's steady presence. This is the first time in a long time that I've cultivated an authentic relationship with my primary healer.
I've talked some about the insensitive surgeon I encountered on my journey to healing my achy-breaky knee, so it's only fitting that I give a shout-out to the majority of physicians who have served me well.
When I first went to the orthopedist Dr. Wilson, I expressed willingness to try steroid injections in my knee -- and he said he'd give me one, right then and there, although that meant I couldn't have a swim after my appointment, as I'd planned. He said I'd have to stay out of the pool (and the bathtub) for 48 hours.
When my pain increased rather than abated after the steroid shot, Dr. Watson saw me on an emergency basis, and took my pain seriously -- to the point that he prescribed an MRI, because he suspected small fractures. The imaging turned up no fractures, but rather an ACL tear that might have been new or old.
I was back with Dr. Wilson a few months later, to try Syn-Visc -- again, administered in the examining room, by the guidance of a hand and eye that knows human joint anatomy by study, experience and instinct.
Dr. Wilson put me in touch with the surgeon who turned out to be right for me -- Dr. Illgen.
For a joint-replacement surgeon, especially one who relies partly on robotic assistance, I'm willing to compromise on the "bedside manner" thing, as long as he strikes me as somebody who knows what he's doing when he saws into my leg. Dr. Illgen proved to be that competent. That he's also a human being is a real plus.
I've also had some competent and caring residents and physician assistants.
And partly through my brother, an ENT and head-neck surgeon, I've come to know the challenges faced by many people with a vocation of healing, who are thwarted by a tangle of regulations, policies, government- and insurer-required paperwork and (let's be honest) patients who demand way too much, or the wrong things, from their doctors.
Here's to the healing arts, and to all who practice them well.
And while we're at it, please meet my brother, Dr. Matt Hanson. He's one of the good guys. New York Magazine says so. I say so -- because he once diagnosed, over the phone, an ear infection that my husband's doctor missed completely.
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