I had a great appointment with my endocrinologist this morning. My numbers are all good. My long-term blood sugar measurement is the second lowest it’s been in my whole life. One of my kidney function measurements dropped, but because the calculation changed, not because I am doing worse. (They used to do separate calculations for African Americans, which is stupid. African American kidneys work, or don’t work, the same as everybody else’s.) But at the end of the appointment, she did drop that she would stop seeing patients sometime between this December and next July. She will only be teaching after that.
This is a circumstance that every chronic patient who has found the right doctor dreads. It’s hard to find that sweet spot at the intersection of good communications, skill, and personality match. When you do find it, you cling to it. And for chronic patients, who are by necessity big on control and low on risk tolerance, it can feel like a bit of an earthquake. Like when they update the safety net for trapeze artists. Hopefully it won’t be gone for long, but you won’t rest easy until the next one is in place.
The last time this happened, I only had three weeks’ notice. I looked at my departing doctor and said, “You know me. Find me you.” Which he did. It was a good fit from the first appointment.
Back then, I was only about 10 years out from my rebellious teenage years. I was still getting resultant diagnoses, and nothing felt settled. In the 11 years or so he had treated me, I had gone from a diabetic with neuropathy and retinopathy (and asthma plus a couple of other unrelateds) to a diabetic with two kinds of neuropathy, retinopathy, kidney disease, gastroparesis, hypertension, and sometimes anemia. It was also my first positive, productive experience with a doctor. It was traumatic to know I had to give up that particular safety net. It had worked really well, and I wasn’t sure a new one would work as well.
Now it has been another 11 years, but things have changed. I have changed. I’m more solid in my understanding of what I want and how I (my body) work, and I haven’t had as many diabetes-related diagnoses. I am more mature -- less easily shaken and better equipped to handle whatever comes. I have also had many more positive doctor-patient relationships over a larger cross-section of specialties.
For a few minutes after the appointment ended, I wondered whether “find me you” was still an imperative.
I think it is. It’s just no longer the more important of the two parts of the plea. This time, the “you know me” part holds much more weight. My current endocrinologist knows me as I am now, a different me from the one who asked my last endocrinologist to find a fit for. As I have changed, the meaning of “find me you” has changed, too. This time, I’m looking for a partner, not a safety net. Well, still somewhat of a safety net, but more for the peace of mind that comes from knowing it’s there than the fear that I will actually need one.
Based on her response, I think she already has someone in mind. Can’t wait to meet them.