How well do you know your doctor?

General practitioners have always fascinated me.  They are supremely adept at diagnosis.  They seem to have seen everything.  The difference is often what we call “bedside manner”.  It’s seldom actually at the bedside. It may be sitting on a stool or standing in the hallway.  But it’s all about how they make you feel.

Dr. Bradley Harris is as good as they get.  On the first appointment I had with him, we discovered our mutual love of adventure and sailing. And he’s used that subject to distract me while he’s kept me in good health for almost 30 years.  I consider him a friend who gives excellent medical advice.  He feels like a friend.  When I’ve run into him on the street or at the marina, it’s always a casual greeting and then we start talking about the Olympics or sailboat racing or mountain climbing.  And he never forgets to ask about Jane.

Sometime along the way, I found out that Brad has about 3,000 patients.  That astounded me.  It didn’t make me feel less special.  It actually made me feel more so.  I doubt that I can name 3,000 people I know AND their families.  Let alone begin to know how they’re feeling and what’s going on in their lives.  What an incredible gift.

Last November, we were shocked to get a letter from Brad saying that he needed to step back from his practice to deal with a serious personal health issue. He was in a battle with melanoma and he needed to focus his energies on healing the cancer. Somehow we all feel that our doctors never get sick.  We should know better but we don’t.

Brad is still fighting the battle and has now told us all that he must retire from his practice to continue the fight.  The retirement party that the Polyclinic held for him last night was something to behold. It was originally to be held at the new downtown facility but the response was so great that it had to be moved to a nearby hotel ballroom.

The party was scheduled to begin at 5:30, so Jane and I decided to go early. A lot of good that did us.  The parking lot at the medical center was full and the hotel’s lot was quickly filling up.  The streets were clogged in every direction. Streams of people jammed the sidewalks leading up to the hotel.  As we waited for the stoplight, one woman turned to her friend and said, “I don’t think you rate in this town unless Brad Harris is your doctor.”

Before 5:30, the line was around the room, up the stairs and out the door. So many people were there that we knew. Hundreds and hundreds of people. Everyone wanted to have their moment with him. And he vowed to stay until he’d talked to every one of us.  That has to be the true definition of “bedside manner”. And such a testament to this great man.

I will miss Brad as my doctor.  But he will always be my friend.  And he will beat this disease. I told him we were thinking about another sailing adventure and that he would have to be on at least one of the legs.  His eyes lit up and he said, “I’ll be there.  Count me in.” What a remarkable human being.