THE BIG HUG

 I suppose doctors need to maintain that glass wall of professionalism between themselves and their patients. Maybe it's a part of their training. It sustains their image as people in possession of special, arcane, almost mystical knowledge and gives them a protective screen behind which to pursue the science--and the art--upon the rest of us so greatly depend.

Or is it we, the patients, who create it? It's always "Doctor This", "Doctor That," never a first name, which feels peculiar to a person of my age when most of their fraternity and sorority are half my age of less. Especially in a culture where first names are thrown around without a second thought.

My own Kaiser doctor is just back from maternity leave. She is a lovely woman, smart, knowledgable, caring and--dare I say this?--quite beautiful too. It occurs to me, not for the first time, how strange it is to have so formal a relationship with a woman who has such intimate, sometimes even embarrassing encounters with my body. So when she stepped into the examination room yesterday morning to see me for the first time in months, I could not help myself. I said, "It seems like so long since I saw you, I feel like giving you a big hug."

I forget what she said. "Why not"? "It's allowed"? "I'd be delighted"? So I stood up with great delight and put my arms around her and gave her a big hug--which she quite comfortably returned.

I was enjoying this lovely moment more than I can say when the telephone rang in my pocket. My doctor stepped back with a laugh and said, "Go ahead. You can answer it." I looked at the screen. It was Kaiser. A nurse, with a follow-up inquiry after my eye surgery last week. Then my doctor's phone rang. That was Kaiser, too.

So the professional world won out, as I suppose I should have expected. The magic was gone, the spell broken. I'm left wondering if I'll ever find the moment to give--and receive!--another such hug. And I wonder if I'll ever dare to call her by her first name...