My Blockbuster Doctor

May 31, 2017

My doctor is Vic Sotto, AiAi delas Alas and Vice Ganda rolled into one. Or if one prefers, Michael Jackson, George Clooney, and Beyonce.

He is a blockbuster doctor.  And yes, there is such.

My comparison has solid basis. His clinic hours beginning at 3 p.m. sometimes run to 4 a.m. the following day. His list for one day can run to close to a hundred. For his patients, this means at least an hour's wait is -- WOW! 

Unbelievable? Well, ask the guard at the main entrance. Ask his driver-bodyguard. Ask the roving guards. Ask Nora, his secretary. Take a look at the countless patients' records on file. Or ask his patients, some from out of town coming over by land or by air. The familiar but nameless faces (because in many cases, that's all they know about each other), have evolved into a community of sorts. Oh, most are able to connect the faces with the names, particularly the personalities -- in politics, entertainment, business and the local art circle (because my doctor is also an artist who has completed hundreds of paintings and a collector of hundreds by major Filipino).

In spite of the horrendous schedule, my family starting from the previous generation   consider him the family doctor. Palpitations, cough, some growth as well as pain in whatever part of the body, etc. -- he is it. 

I can't imagine going to any other doctor. He is patient, explains things in a way you'll understand. He does not rush just to tick off your name from the day's list. He is also open to questions via text -- how cool is that! (But this I only do whenever really necessary.) He is abreast of developments and is well-rounded in spite of or perhaps because of his Harvard degree in medicine.  He's interesting and fun too especially when the conversation turns to art that he seems to become oblivious of the full waiting area in the deepening night. A techie, he maintains a Facebook account (perhaps tinkering with it more possibly on Wednesdays, his official day-off). He is consistently positive, open, and accepting.

When it comes to bedside manner which is crucial in medical practice, he has a way of giving patients a disguised push for one recovering from pain or discomfort. For instance, on his visit to me in the hospital day after my mastectomy, he lifted my left arm overhead without warning and said, "Galing!" I guess this was why I didn't go through what many mastectomy patients do, i.e., not be able to lift their arms overhead sometimes for months due to pain.

He visits his patients who are confined, even on Sundays. And too, while some may consider this minor, I really think it's cool that he sends his patients Christmas wishes via text. Even if it's one message sent to all by his secretary, I don't know how many doctors even think of doing this. And -- add to all that -- his handwriting is legible!

But I guess I am no different from many others. That's how many of us patients are with our doctors, at least with our favorite doctors, they who conjure pleasant memories of even the most trying circumstances in one's lifetime. Just the very sight of the guy or just the sound of the familiar voice breaking through one's sleepy stupor in a hospital room, is enough to perk us up. Magically the physical discomfort becomes a mere bad dream. Thus when in need of other medical specialists' care, he nevertheless heads the team.

This here is a photo story. My feet during my most recent check-up do the telling of what I typically go through while waiting.

First few minutes, feet together

In a while, right foot moves over left.. then the left one over right...

Still left over right here but in a slighted adjusted position

Crossed legs this time, right over left.

           

Feet come together in a somewhat unnatural way. Then they suddenly come apart.

Oooppps, where have my left leg and foot gone, Probably irritated at this photo bomber

both left and right decided to walk over to the nearby convenience store.

Back from that brief departure. Soon after sitting down,  a familiar name is called.         

It's my turn! Quickly I prepare to enter his clinic.

But not before I take one last selfie (hehe-- Pinoy na Pinoy!).

I'll take the waiting anytime, Dr. Renato Cheng. May the Lord make many more of your kind.