As a mental health professional, I highly value western doctors that get that health is not just about the body.
“Okay, take a deep breath and cough for me,” the white-haired doctor said as he pressed a cool metal stethoscope onto my bareback.
“Hmmm, no signs of wheezing at all. And you said this has been going on for a month?”
He invited me to step off the high check-up table. “Why don’t you sit beside me in this chair?” He was facing his computer, but quickly spun around and looked me in the eyes with all the sincerity in the world.
I will admit, I was hesitant when this much older, rather brusk mannered fill-in for my regular MD walked into the room. I judged him for his age. I feared that he would be too old-school. That was until his hazel eyes stared into mine with empathy and compassion I didn’t know I was so hungry for. His eyes reminded me I wasn’t just hungry — I was starving.
Soul Writer. Single Mama. Life ponderer. Nature Lover. Therapist. Introvert. HSP & Empath. Life is my playground and each day a blank canvas.