Dr Woolfson”s Wisdom’s

I collect doctors the way I collect lawyers. I have four lawyers and I have three doctors. Well, now just two doctors because yesterday I had my last visit with Dr. Woolfson. He was brilliant as usual. He said three important things to me. I suppose I am violating the doctor-patient privilege but I, as patient, can waive it. it is amazing how that law stuff never goes away, particularly since I retired from the practice of law twelve years ago.
Dr, Woolfson called my lifestyle Itinerant, such a perfect word. I looked it up for you; peripatetic, wandering, roaming, touring, saddlebag, nomadic, gypsy, migrant, vagrant, of no fixed address. So that is absolutely right on – well except for the saddlebag. I am not too fond of being called a saddlebag, I guess that is just me.
The other pearl of wisdom he gave was to appreciate the unique dilemma I am in. He said that he did not envy those people with independent income, with wealth accumulated so that they never had to work, the world being their oyster with countless opportunities beckoning. The problem he opined was the difficulty of making a decision and once made, sticking to it. I am a more humble version of that of which he speaks. My hard earned retirement benefit coupled with my lack of family (in the traditional sense) gives me countless opportunities. I felt I had his sympathy, others less gifted and blind to my true circumstance offer jealousy.
Then he switched gears and gave me medical knowledge. The subject was my arthritic knees. It is better to see a physiotherapist than a surgeon because it is less invasive – surgeons just want to cut. “Just want to cut” is my phrase not his. I know Dr. Woolfson is right because physiotherapy is more portable and with my itinerant life style, it fits better. I also have no one to wait on me hand and foot, this a necessity in the post operative state. Poor me.
So at the end of the appointment I shook his hand and said most sincerely that he had been a force for good in my life and in some ways changed it. Thanks, Robin. I don’t get it, Why In this country, do not private medical care doctors get to call themselves doctors but instead misters? I call them doctors as I am respectful of them. I don’t particularly want an answer to that question by the way.
I was very goal directed when I was at the London Clinic. I found the wonderful woman I spoke about in the prior post, asked her name which was (and is) Jaishree Sdanke. She was rather surprised to see me and thought that I had forgotten. Well I did forget her name and lost the piece of paper where it was recorded but I did not forget her thoroughness and efficiency. I also found out how to sing her praises and to whom and I will later today. I shall suggest as I did yesterday that she be given a medal, a gold star and a raise. It seems that she prefers the raise if she has to choose between the three. But, in a way, it was disillusioning. She was being extremely helpful to an extremely boring rather entitled older man, He went on and on and on about saving a few pounds. She was very efficient and helpful to him. That was excellent but it made me feel less special. Oh well, as you can see I am flawed.
But everyone there were so courteous and pleasant. I had great chats with other doctors and staff members. One doctor lived in San Francisco when I did and we talked about Langley Porter Neuropsychiatric Institute where I once worked for a brief period of time. I laughingly told him that I worked there, was not a patient there and that is the truth. Special thanks to Carlos who made me peppermint tea told me about Qatar. I fear his name was not Carlos as Carlos is the waiter at the Tate Britain whose name I later learned. I neglected to write down London Clinic man’s name. Well, you know who you are and I thank you. There are just too many men in my life. (haha).
Oh one more funny thing. I found amongst my papers a referral made by Dr. Woolfson. In bold letters it says: With compliments, but right above it in handwriting it says Full Bladder. I brought it to show him. he sort of laughed. It was a referral for a bladder scan. It turned out great but what a process. There goes doctor-patient privilege again.
I continue my outspoken ways on the streets of London, One disgusting man took his cigarette and threw the butt in the street. I smilingly said to him: You should not do that. The look of sheer shock on his face was priceless. Then in the Dolphin Square Fitness Club a woman was screaming at her poor little girl. I, again smilingly, said: “Mommy, why are you yelling at your little girl? The look of rage and contempt in her eyes when she turned to look at me was monstrous. Best it be directed towards me rather than that poor little girl. She said nothing, nor did I. One needs to speak out but it is possible to do it pleasantly. I said, in my favorite grocery store that I was practicing being very polite because I was going home to Canada. A man was at the counter, He smiled and said that he knew about Canadians, that he was from Montreal and he had just got off the airplane. Honest, there were witnesses. More coincidences to follow. I think I am going to write twice today and post and take the day off tomorrow. My plans for tomorrow include water aerobics and then lunch at my favorite restaurant, the Rex Whistler. I will deserve a break.

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