Perspective

So yesterday afternoon I had my annual doctor's visit.  The "fun" that comes with these visits is offset by the fact that I absolutely love my doc.  I've been going to her for about six years now, and she delivered the girl child for me back in 2006.  She's never made me feel rushed, but more than that, she always takes 5 or 10 minutes for a personal conversation.  Not a "doctor/patient you should be doing this not that" conversation, but one where we talk about what is going on in both her and my life.  We have discussed the status of health care, my kiddos, her dogs, and whatever else comes up at the time.  She's always full of energy, engaging, and has a wonderful sparkle about her.

Yesterday, I noticed as she came in the room that she didn't meet my eyes and she wasn't as energetic as she usually is, but I didn't think too much about it, other than to register that something was different.  A few minutes later I realized that she had lost quite a bit of weight in the last year, and her hair was a different color.  She was very business like and impersonal for most of the visit, which was unlike her.  But when I mentioned her weight loss and asked how she was doing, it was like I had opened a dam.  She had had a terrible 2010.  She'd had family issues, lost one of her dogs (which are her babies), and had a strange and still unidentified illness that she couldn't seem to shake, leading to unintended weight loss.  She had been miserable. 

As we talked, she also mentioned all the good things in her life - she'd taken an amazing trip with her husband, she'd had a fabulous birthday party with some girlfriends, and she has an outstanding career that gives her a lot of fulfillment.  But the undercurrent I got was that she was reminding herself of the pluses in her life to try to push back the negatives that were threatening to overwhelm her.  Through the course of our conversation, she said more than once that she felt like she was on the flip side of the ugly, and things were getting better.  It still felt like she was trying very hard to convince herself of that, and she wasn't really sure that was the truth.

I was surprised at how sad this exchange made me.  This is an amazing, vibrant, energetic woman who was a shadow of her former self.  She was smaller, not just physically, but also in terms of her presence in the room.  If I hadn't known her for the last six years, I don't think it would have been obvious.  But the change just made me incredibly sad.  I wanted to ask her if she'd like to have coffee sometime, maybe just offer a shoulder or an ear, whatever I could do.  I'm not sure that's something you do with your doc, and I'm not sure I'm any different from her other patients, but it really made an impact on me.  There was a time when I was a shadow of a former self (although perhaps not quite as drastically, and certainly not for the same reasons), and it was such a difficult time.  I'm not sure I would have made it through without a couple of very good friends to lean on, and I always feel like I owe something of a debt for that time.  As though I received help when I desperately needed it, and it's now my responsibility to step in where I can - and it's a responsbility I'm glad and grateful to take on whenever I can. 

It feels presumptuous to reach out now, a day later; I have no idea if maybe she was just having a bad day, or if she might be embarrassed at talking about it.  And chances are, I won't see her again for another year.  But I still feel like I have a good friend going through a hard time, and there's not a lot I can do to help.  It sucks.