Defining moments

I find many of patients get associated in my mind with one 'defining moment,' whether it be some event in their lives that they've described to me or some notable medical problem that they've had. When I see them in the waiting room or even just seeing their name on the day's schedule evokes these strong associations.

One delightful sixty-something African-American woman wished to travel several years ago and went looking for a tour group to join. By some means unremembered, she hooked up with a busload of middle-aged white guys from a poker club in Colorado Springs. This odd pairing of my patient with this bunch of buddies turned out splendidly. While she has not been able to travel much since, the C. Springs men have called her on several occasions to join them on the road or just to see how she's doing.

Another one of my patients exactly my age told me on questioning that she had attended Kent State during her undergraduate years. Immediate goosebumps for me: "So you were there in the spring of '70?" (talk about a defining moment for an entire generation) "My roommate," she says, "died that day in my arms."

One of my favorite layered memories of a patient involves first finding years ago an extensive inflammatory cancer in her breast. On surgery, all lymph nodes found were positive for cancer. That, of course, is not the good part of the memory. What makes me smile is that ten years later she brought me a bottle of wine to celebrate a decade cancer-free. Even better yet, now 16 years have passed and wine or no, I love seeing her for mundane routine check-ups.