A good, little day, just the same. That's how my dearly departed dad would have described it.
One of the traumas of moving, at least in this part of Canada, is the doctor shortage. There is one, you know — in just about all parts of the province. At least partly, it stems from a conservative government's unfortunate doctrine — skimping on public health capital to give tax breaks to the rich. We now pay the price; it will take years to rectify the damage caused by such short-sightedness.
In this town, as in many, there are no doctors who are open to take new patients, but we gambled that this would work out for us. It's a reasonably big gamble at this stage of life. For me and mine, at least, things start to go wrong in the sixth decade. Not terribly wrong, but wrong enough that we get it; we begin to understand where we're headed. We begin to get it loud and clear as a matter of fact.
If all else were to have failed, the town does have a hospital whose walk-in clinic enjoys a stellar reputation. Of course, everyone would still prefer to have their own, presumably dedicated, doctor. It was in this clinic that Butterfly was recently invited to join a certain doctor's patient roster. Even more recently, Butterfly asked this same doctor if she would take us on too. Yes, she would.
Both Cuppa and I could see this doctor, or I could opt to register with her male partner. The choice was mine. My first preference was for everybody in the family to be attended to by the same doctor. Secondly, in my unusual way of looking at life, I deduced that if all other things were equal, as a male I should consciously choose to be attended by a female practitioner. After all, women have been attended to by men for lo these many years, so what statement would I be making if I were to wimp out over a bit of role reversal. It might seem silly, and doubtless it is, but such are the peculiar workings of what passes for my mind.
Today was the day for our introductory meeting. We were nervous. Would we like this person, or would we now be stuck with someone with whom we we felt uncomfortable or even incompatible? In she walked, very tall, and very fit. Because of the casual nature of this initial consultation, Cuppa and I were both in the two-seat examining room. I jumped up to offer this thirty-something lady my chair. Nothing doing. She shooed me back into the chair and perched herself contentedly on the examining table. I was impressed already.
I kept on being impressed. She was great: calm, thorough, and unhurried. She listened too, without interrupting or cutting us off after five words. What strange behaviour for a doctor! As a result of her gentle thoroughness, Cuppa and I have both walked out with our tetanus shots updated, and I clung to referral slips for both physio and massage therapy. You see, after real improvement last week, my back has regressed and is plaguing me afresh this week.
What a relief! We both feel comfortable with and confident in this lady doctor.
It was a beautiful day, so we when we exited the medical offices, we opted to go for our first leisurely and exploratory drive in this new area. We followed the Mississippi river north to Alton and on to Pakenham. Both are quaint little towns; the drive was wonderfully pleasant and, sometimes, refreshingly scenic.
We stopped at a park by the Mississippi in Alton and took some pictures. This was one of them.
Nice place we've come to. Eh?