By gosh I have good healthcare professionals.

Having developed Person Centered Patient Education Guidelines, there are those who may think they’re born of bad experiences. Not so.

I really like everyone in my healthcare life, and by and large have had nothing but the best of experiences. How much does this have to do with me? Hard to say. As a generally curious person – and being in the business of healthcare education and all – I regularly ask what made my md’s go into their profession. I’ve been rewarded with stories of passion, intelligence and commitment by all but one: an about-to-retire specialist who said. “I don’t know. My parents insisted I go to medical school. And this was the only specialty I could get into.”

My GP, whose father is a specialist, found her heart was in family care. She always makes me feel like she’s learned something, or has benefited from my comments. Recently, at her office for a congested chest, she asked if I wanted syrup or pills. As she was charting, she shared her preference for syrup because she hated swallowing pills, and that her peers always made a big deal of it. My response: ‘I dunno. Seems to me your preference should be respected.’ She stopped her cold and looked up from the chart. ‘Thanks. No one’s every said that.’

My urologist, who attacked my kidney stones with determination and humour, regularly has a resident in tow. One of whom said, “I chose this specialty because such small procedures can make such a huge difference” The follow physician hesitated not one bit when I said the anti-kidney-stone pills were upsetting my stomach. I half expected a lecture (‘you don’t want another stone do you?’) No. He cut the dose in half and scheduled a follow up to check up.

My asthma doc – a GP –  having determined my asthma is ‘very mild’, and adding ‘you have extraordinary lung function for a woman your age’ (I chose to appreciate the compliment) didn’t poo poo when I said mild it may be, but  it's gotten in the way of my breathing. He started me on a low dose meds. One of his missions is to make sure other Family Docs teach proper use of meds.

As for medication and dosing: I already knew to ask for the lowest dose because my pharmacist – independent not part of a chain – taught me that, taking my body type and weight into consideration, I’m likely need less medication at least to start.

I have a terrific shrink who’s on call as I’ve needed him. In fact, my family credits him with having spurred me on to get my mother to a neurologist, which led to diagnosis of brain tumour. Without his sensitive direction, me and my sibs would’ve assumed it was part of menopause.

My dentist is a wizard with the freezing needle, my optometrist encouraging. I have a chiropracter whose mission is to get my back back to working – whether it’s her or a colleague. I can always get in same day, rarely have to wait  (and if I do, she has the best magazines).

I’m respectful unless pissed off. Which has happened only a couple of times. I felt right betrayed when I couldn’t get into my GP for help with one of the kidney stones and left message to that effect. (I didn’t say my upset was reasonable, did I?) And my dentist, who - when he brought his-newly graduated daughter into the practice  – charged the same as what he was making. He stood firm. I have opted only to see him, not his daughter.

All the healthcare professionals in my life know my passion for giving patients/people what they need in the way of education (vs what healthcare professionals think we need) and their reaction tells me that they’ve chosen to do what they do because they want to help.

In these times of shifting paradigms, we should be building on strengths and relationships and shared and cumulative knowledge to make the best possible journey for all.

Kathy Kastner is the editor of Ability4Life.com, for adult children caring for their parents, and is very involved in patient-centered education, and its many interpretations. She is also a CareToKnow.org community member.

More of Kathy's recent blog posts:

When Happiness is a Hazard
Lost in Translation?
Walk for a Cure: When my daughter asked me to join her, why didn't I just say yes?