#81 ⚾️ Come now, let’s not make this AWKWARD 🫢

Journal 📖

Doctors of folly, culminating with Molly

The family doctors we’ve had at our local clinic over the years are a potpourri of the best and the worst.

There was David from England, a deeply spiritual and softly spoken man, whose primary medical advice was to avoid coming to see a doctor altogether. He seemed more like a laid-back uncle into meditation than a doctor. There was a humidifier in his office, gently burbling away like a brook. On the wall there were pictures of trees receding into the mist. The incense wasn’t burning, probably due to clinic policy, but the sticks were there standing to attention, ready to burn should they ever be allowed. Our family liked David a lot.

Peter, from Belgium, was wonderful with children, perhaps because he wasn’t so far removed from being one. I’d say early twenties at the most. The nurses called him Peter Pan. When my son Neko was around 9, he freaked out that his throat was “gluggy”, and he wouldn’t be able to swallow or breathe properly. Dr Peter reassured Neko that he was fine and diagnosed frozen cubes of pineapple, to be consumed as needed, before bed. Neko liked Peter a lot.

Okay, those were the good ones.