A little peek at medical clarity and levity in the golden years

Kathleen Anderson

The JOLT has a new columnist. She is a retired internist living in Olympia, and her name is Dr. Debra Glasser. Her column appears on  most Thursdays, and I love them. Why? Because she gives us information that we need to know in language we can understand.

This is not true of all physicians. And it has been my experience that many seniors are easily intimated by their doctors. Many patients come home with more questions than they arrived with because they were afraid to ask.

“The waiting room was full, and they are so busy, I didn’t want to take up too much of their time” is a comment I have often heard over the years.

My response was always the same:

1. The doctor works for you. You pay for their service, so in a sense, you are their employer.
2. If you don’t ask for or volunteer information, they cannot get a clear picture of your problem, without which you may not get the best results the first time.

The older generation often places their doctor on a plane above the rest of us – far more knowledgeable than we are – so they don’t ask questions about medication side effects or other possible interactions.

Perhaps, because I was medical records auditor for nursing homes a few years back, I tend to drive my doctors nuts.

I have been helped by many doctors over the years, for a variety of problems, all of which were treated and cured, and for that I am very grateful.

I have great respect for their knowledge, dedication and diligence.

But I must admit, one of my favorite docs was my last one in California. He reminded me of Sheldon in the Big Bang Theory. He was a Board-Certified Family Physician and also had a Ph.D. in Biology.

I always called him Doctor, Doctor, when I addressed him, and he never seemed to think this was unusual.

Actually, he never seemed to think I was in any way unusual, which was, in and of itself, pretty reassuring…even after I made comments like “I didn’t have any dreaded diseases when I arrived here, and I would prefer not to go home with any.”

During another visit, after receiving an email telling me I was due for some blood work, he swept into the room and asked why I had come in. “I was summoned,” I replied. He just looked out the window for a minute and then turned and said, “Summoned. I like it.”

One time, while in his office for knee pain, he warned me about the dangers of too much Ibuprofen and suggested I take Tylenol instead. This was immediately followed by the stern admonishment to never try to commit suicide by overdosing on Tylenol.

“Your liver will die, but you will not.” He announced.

Since the subject of suicide had never come up, nor was I thinking about it, I still have no idea why he felt the need to inform me of this interesting tidbit, but I also never forgot it.

Another time he told me that one day he would write a book that no one would read because no one would understand what was in it.

I did not doubt it.

These pronouncements would come out of the blue and were not attached to any conversations that were currently taking place.

For whatever reason, I had more faith in this man than in any other doctor I ever met. I remain convinced he was a genius…and a hilarious one at that. And for me, it was a great combination.

Kathleen Anderson writes this column each week from her home in Olympia.  Contact her at  kathleen@theJOLTnews.com or post your comment below.