When the Doctor takes his own medicine

A few weeks ago, I went to the doctor’s office for my annual physical. The doctor is relatively young, but he walked into the small exam room and had an instant “grounding” effect. His composed demeanor acted as a buffer against the loudness in the hallway and the butterflies and stress I was feeling inside my stomach.

Oh, I knew my cholesterol and other related scores had been trending downward. I knew he would be pleased with those results. I knew that I’ve lost weight and have been eating better, but I was still taken aback by the way the young resident handled himself. He took his time in the exam and went into detail when I stopped to ask him why it’s so important to keep LDL (the “bad” cholesterol) low and HDL (the “good” cholesterol) high to reduce your risk of heart attack.

“C’mon on doc, what do you have against good junk food? What did a good burger or dairy ever do to you?”

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When I noted a hint of an English accent, I asked him how long he had lived in Southeastern Pennsylvania and if he had gotten used to living amongst us “Bloody Traitors.” We both joked about the differences between Pennsylvania and England. Yes, he admitted that he couldn’t find a good cheesesteak in merry old England. But our fish and chips were nothing to call home about. To prove his point, he motioned to his mouth like he was about to throw-up.

As we went back and forth, he was quick to make fun of Americans for working too hard. I had to laugh at the irony. Two hours earlier, I had mentioned to my wife that I hoped I wouldn’t get in trouble with my boss for taking a couple of days off work to travel to my son’s college graduation. Oh the craziness.

The doctor was still very calm. I must have made an impression on him. He got quiet and looked over his screen. He mentioned that his own life had taken a turn towards “the crazy.” He broke out into a huge smile and told me that he had just learned that his wife was pregnant with their first child.

I don’t know the doctor that well. We’ve only met a couple of times, but he’s not the kind of person to open up about something so personal with a patient. He’s reserved. To steal from a well-worn cliche, the shoe was definitely on the other foot. It was my chance to be the calm one. I told him that I have three grown kids of my own and encouraged him to enjoy the ride, that it flies by in the blink of an eye.

My advice seemed to do its job.

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He let out a deep sigh and said he was excited to meet his son or daughter.

When I left the doctor’s office, I sat for a few minutes in the parking lot and reminded myself once again that life is a journey. It goes up. It goes down. It’s best to approach each mountain with a calm, cool approach. Long deep breath in, long deep breath out. Yes, here’s to enjoying everything life has to offer.

Calm or Anxious? Have you been affected recently by one or the other? How did it make you feel?