Yesterday I visited my internist. I had no particular complaint. My back hurt no more than usual. The numbness in my left foot was neither better nor worse than it was last month. I wasn’t suffering from vertigo or abdominal pain. I went because I had an appointment to see her, nothing more.
Until just a few years ago, I rarely visited a doctor unless I was pregnant or sick. I called when there was a problem, and my doctor would see me in whatever unusual circumstances I was in. She checked on me when I was in the hospital, reviewing my labs and x-rays and whatever else there was to take in. When I had cancer, or needed pre-operative evaluations for surgery, she would check my heart and lungs and write a note as needed. Sometimes I went to her office for a flu shot.
But I think some of the most informative doctors’ appointments are routine. That’s because there’s value in a doctor’s getting to know a patient when she’s not particularly ill, when she’s not in pain or terrified, when she’s feeling just as usual.
I’ve had the same primary care physician since 1987. She knows my habits, my fears and my quirks. She, as much as anyone, has a sense of how I’m doing – emotionally and physically. In some years, I’ve taken better care of myself than in others, and she’s very much aware of that. She examines me carefully and makes suggestions regarding diet, physical therapy and other everyday, non-urgent matters in my life that affect my health.
The best thing about having a doctor know me so well is a matter of trust. I rely on her not to solve what’s unsolvable, which of course no one can do, but to do the best she can to take care of me. If ever I’m very sick again, in a circumstance when I can’t make decisions for myself, I know she’ll act according to my interests. She’ll be able do so because she knows me, my usual self.
Having a doctor who knows you shouldn’t be a privilege. Really I wish it for everyone. It helps.