How do you sufficiently thank a man who has taken care of 4 generations of your family? How do you let it be known to the egotistical world of doctors, surgeons, and researchers that you love your primary care doc because he treats the person and not just the condition? How do you spread the word that true health care is about building lifelong relationships, having a bond between patient and professional that also forges friendship, and respect? In my 50 years on the planet, I have been evaluated, poked, prodded, cut open, treated and cared for by 100’s of medical people. My soon-to-be-retired family doctor stands above the rest and, sadly, represents a disappearing breed of health care in the United States: someone with a smaller practice who fights back against insurance companies and government bureaucracy to get to the heart of what medicine should be: care for people.
I recently had my final wellness check in with him and he told me that many family doctors cannot compete with large hospitals and health care centers who can negotiate lower insurance co-pays for people and have the cash flow to have an entire staff of people simply to work on insurance billing and stuff like that. These places have to see many patients a day to make things profitable and therefore spend less time getting to know patients as people, especially people like me with more serious medical challenges. In his words, he feels that soon, the vast majority of the population will be seen in a clinic setting, by a nurse practitioner who will be the first line of all healthcare in simply looking at the odds of what a condition might be and prescribing the most common course of action. He went on to say that 80% of what he sees “simply will get better on it’s own” and so this type of medicine will work for many of us, but if a rare medical condition presents, such as muscular dystrophy, or spinal meningitis, the diagnosis will likely be delayed or could be missed altogether. Living in the most developed country in the world, these thoughts should give us all pause. We are in danger of falling into what I think of as “assembly line medicine.” Let me tell you a few things about my doc and how I don’t think I’ll ever find healthcare like this again.
To begin, this man took care of my mother’s parents back in the 1980’s when they were both in their 80’s (I love the 80’s) and that is how he came to be the family doc. He was and is feisty and calls things like he sees them, with open honesty and bluntness. In short, his delivery is not for everybody. My father got quite sick with pneumonia in 1982, and when the doc uncovered my father’s heavy drinking, they had a long talk. My dad was very upset but also knew the doc was right. For awhile my father listened and cut down, but it didn’t last. In 1992 he began coughing and waited to see the doc until September of 1993. By then, the doc let him know that if it was something serious it may be too late, and he was pretty stupid to wait as long as he did. Sure enough, there was an inoperable tumor on his left lung near the heart. Radiation was tried, but the cancer had already spread. My father died at age 51. Later I went to see the doc and his wife (who is also his office manager and the sweetest lady you can imagine). He cleared his schedule to walk me through my grief and what my dad should have and could have done differently. He then gave me a friendly lecture about my own health issues and how a lot of men like to blow off doctors and be tough guys. He warned me sternly not to do this. I listened.
Through the years, the doc and I would be admonished by his wife as my appointments grew longer. Usually we were discussing music, bands, and audiophile stuff. Little did I know, but one of the doc’s side hobbies included designing and building high end stereo equipment. Invited to his house for dinner years ago, he proudly showed me his home system. Without getting too technical, the doc had researched a company that allowed for room correction with the components. In short, computer chips inside an amplifier learned how to “read the listening room for sound” and adjust things on speakers allowing you an amazing listening experience to music as well as movies. Better than a theater, and as close to a professional recording studio as possible. I was blown away. Pun intended. The doc likes his music loud!
He designed me a system and even fronted me some money to get what I needed. Upon paying him back, he came to my house several times to mount the speakers, run cable and calibrate the whole thing. Until I had kids, it was incredible. When the kids were born, I unhooked most of it, and also put a second floor on the house so the living room now has different ceiling and wall angles. The doc has offered to come back and get everything humming again. Stay tuned as that will be a blog in and of itself.
I must also mention that we have been to several rock, funk, and jazz shows over the years, and there have been times that he has made house calls when I have been in a position to not get to him: broken power chair, feeling too ill to drive and such. In his almost 40 years of practicing medicine, I have learned that he didn’t only do stuff like this for me, but many other patients as well. It’s not a stretch for my family to regard his family as family. He saw both of my kids as newborns and my oldest recently became emotional when I told him that the doc is about to retire. “Will he still have the gum ball machine at his house? What about his yellow Porsche? Can he bring it over so we can still see it?” No mention of shots, or fear of appointments. That’s simply the vibe he and his wife keep in their office.
I have come to the realization that my entire family now needs a new family doctor, but I refuse to say good-bye to this one. I told his wife that this is only “see you later.” We have more music to listen to.
Thank you Doc. For everything. Stay awesome, stay safe, and stay tuned.
Patrick moeschen 