Pausing

I drove on 280 yesterday, fresh after a rainstorm, with the sky bright blue and the clouds forming beautiful white pillows. It was the perfect afternoon for a drive. I rarely leave the city during the week. But I had a doctor’s appointment on the peninsula, which I usually do in the morning knowing that by the 4:30pm appointment my doctor is likely to be an hour behind. But that’s okay, because I know he takes his time with each patient and gives them the attention they need. He’s a wonderful doctor and reminds me a lot of my grandfather. I like the forced pause in my day while I’m waiting in the lobby or in the patient room--no cell phone, no computer, just a book or reading from work that I have to catch up on.

I’ve gone to him since I was diagnosed with Lupus 6 years ago. I used to see him every couple of months and each time he would highlight the progress I had made, whether it was being able to make complete fist or stand up without assistance. He would keep me positive when I didn’t know how to cope with a disease that would be with me the rest of my life. The first time I saw him he squeezed me in on his lunch break. Usually it takes months of a new patient to get an appointment, but he owed his friend in Boise, who first diagnosed me.

Now I only go every 6 months, and each time he can’t believe that the Lupus has disappeared. A blood test that usually never comes back negative once a person is diagnosed, has continued to come back negative. Instead of running through test results and prescribing more medicine, he now reminds me at each appointment to eat lots of yogurt and always asks if I’m dating someone.

“How do young people meet these days?” he asked me yesterday after I let him know while a lot of things had changed in 6 years, my dating life had not. I gave him some vague answers—online, through friends, etc. I told him I’d let him know when I started dating.

“It must be tough outside of college,” he said. Then he congratulated me on getting into USF and told me his daughter went there for law school.”

“I love the architecture there,” he said as he typed away, writing notes about my health. “They also have a fabulous gym.”

“Good to know,” I said. “Maybe that’s where I’ll meet some boys next year.”

He laughed, and I laughed, knowing that would probably not happen. But it was fun to joke and know that going to the gym was an option again in my life, when 6 years ago it was a miracle just to get out of bed. I like these appointments that make me pause, take a deep breath, and remind me what an amazing gift it is to have our bodies breathe in, breathe out and really live.