My Visit to the Doctor

Never have had reason to visit a doctor, for I can thankfully say, my gracious and loving Heavenly Father has always blessed me with good health. Then with the passing years, I developed the common hypertension, which my family and friends cautioned, not to ignore.

So off I went to visit, our friendly neighbourhood doctor, a physician well known to all in Cooke Town . Expecting a long queue waiting for his ministration, I was duly surprised to note I was second in line, but that unfortunately was not exactly a short wait in time.

When finally sitting in the hot seat, facing my nemesis, it was pleasant to note, that he came as a kind old man, looking most harmless. After the initial greeting , my details were sought in a soft calm voice, that changed to one of astonishment, when I mentioned my age, for he thought I was younger .

Checking my family history, my blood pressure and my pulse, he was convinced I needed medication, which had to be started immediately. He advised certain basic blood tests, to eliminate anything he may have missed, and a date for a second meeting with the reports, was fixed for ten days later.

Armed with my recent blood works, I went back to him. Having already googled the effects of the results, the variations, I knew what to expect. With some apprehension I walked in,expecting another long wait, but this time there was no one, just an empty clinic. However on hearing me, the doctor, appeared with alacrity, it seemed he had had no patients all day.

After checking the reports, more medication was prescribed, and mentally I decided which were to be disregarded . Close to the end of the session, the doctor had a question for me. Unable to contain his curiosity he asked, if everyone in my family has black hair ? Strange question that, I thought and unsure how this would affect my diagnosis, I quickly answered ‘ yes’ but went on to add that mine had started to turn grey only recently .

He then observed, to my considerable relief, that my hair he thought was quite black for one so old . Oh not quite, I said, there is a lot of grey in there and maybe it is time you changed your eye glasses, was my reply .With that free advice to the doctor, I left him sipping on his wife’s homemade ginger lemonade, as he pondered over the apparent black of my hair and his faulty eye glasses.

As I walked away from the clinic, dwelling on my new found distinction, of belonging to those with lifestyle ailments, a slave to medication, falling prey to pharmaceuticals, I was melancholy . Then came to mind, the health I enjoyed all these years, with no need to even visit a doctor, and I was filled with abounding gratitude once again. My Lord has carried me thus far, and He will carry me the rest of the way, so why should I fear ?