Doctors offices. I’m not a fan.
Somehow, even when I’m there not as the patient but as the parent with one of my kids, I’m still uncomfortable, probably because I carry a lot of my own baggage when it comes to doctors. I associate doctors and most providers with trauma rather than preventative care, thanks to a few actually traumatic experiences where I’ve had seizures post-medical procedure. Who wants to go to a place where you worry the worst might happen again? I never want that for my kids. Fortunately, as I’m learning, that’s my baggage, not theirs.
Most men I know struggle with managing their own healthcare, much less the care of others. Contrast that with the women in my life: they go to the doctor for everything, and they’re not shy about it either. Truth be told, I wouldn’t even have a primary care physician if it weren’t for my wife. Thankfully, over 20 years later, I’m still seeing him regularly, and we’ve developed quite a rapport. I feel like I can talk to him about anything, which has come in handy over the years as I’ve aged.
In fact, one of the things that probably endeared my wife to me was how well she took care of me when I was ill while we were dating. Foreshadowing her future career as a nurse, she nursed me through multiple health scares, getting my wisdom teeth pulled, and what appeared to be my annual bout with the flu in those early years. It’s a wonder she stuck around longer. I guess she figured, I’ve already put in the work, I might as well reap the benefits of a healthy husband.
Fortunately, since she’s a healthcare professional, I haven’t had to take the lead on managing the kids’ care over the years. We have our lanes. My professional background is in education, so I’ve taken the lead on most of their schooling decisions. Still, every now and then I find myself in the uncomfortable and unfamiliar territory of a doctor’s (or dentist’s) office, needing to make decisions. And during the perfect storm, I find myself in multiple doctors’ offices in the span of a week.
So, this is where I found myself this week.
First, my youngest daughter had to get a cavity filled. Now, before I get started on how much it apparently costs to fill a cavity (and trust, I definitely had that conversation with each of the girls), let me just say: I don’t like going to the dentist as a patient or a parent. I’ve been really fortunate to find dental providers who have been with our family for decades. My own dentist has known my wife and me since before we had kids. Our children’s dentist has been with us through the trauma of my second-oldest daughter busting up all her front teeth in a freak biking accident. She saw us through reconstructive surgery, years of braces, and care for each of our four girls.
Still, with all that time and trust, it’s an uncomfortable dynamic for me. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen the worst that can happen. Even so, we’ve done the things necessary to build trusting relationships. We sought out providers who connected with our kids, across race and gender lines.
Sitting in the chair next to my baby girl, watching her giggle and, let’s be honest, squirm a bit more than the providers wanted her to, I couldn’t help but be thankful that her experience hasn’t been as traumatic as mine. They all genuinely like going to the doctor and the dentist. As we finally left after nearly three hours, I watched my daughter triumphantly emerge from the dentist’s chair, cavity filled, seemingly unbothered by the past 45 minutes.
Meanwhile, a few days later, I called my wife nervously as I stepped into the elevator to visit my own doctor. I was nervous for a couple of reasons: I famously don’t like elevators, and, well, I was going to see another doctor. It was my annual visit to the neurologist I’ve been seeing since I was a sophomore in undergrad. Again, the benefit of having a healthcare professional who’s known my history and managed my care for over two decades has its rewards. I appreciate the shorthand of familiarity, and the fact that we’ve managed a chronic illness with mostly lifestyle changes. Still, every time I visit that office, I’m reminded of why I’m there: the fragility of life, my own mortality… you know, all the fun stuff about getting older.
So there you have it. I’m a grown man still making peace with what it means to take care of my health. And to model for the girls what it looks like to take care of theirs. It’s been a journey, and I hope it gets better with age.
SDW3
everyday fatherhood 