September 11, 2008
Dear Dr. Rogers,
Enclosed are my latest results from my recent mammogram and bone density scan. I thought they should be included with my records that you are soon kicking to the curb.
In Bible times when the Israelites were confronted with something that brought them much sorrow the Bible says they tore their clothes and put on sackcloth and ashes. This was a reminder to them as well as to all who saw them they were grieving something (whether it be their own just desserts or a loss). Remembering this has made it much easier to decide what to wear to work since receiving your letter. Indeed, there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth at the news I read.
This simply cannot be! I will not take it lying down. Oh wait. Yes I will. Lying down on a table decorated with lovely ice cold stirrups. In a stranger’s office with someone most certainly not from Lubbock, TX. Words simply do not do justice to the depth of my angst! Surely I feel deserted and bereft.
I am considering volunteering to be an object lesson next summer. I’ll just have my yearly exam in your class room. Certainly after the years of infertility tests and procedures there is no dignity left to lose so one more observer might not be too high a price to pay. I confess that I am praying that you soon discover that a classroom full of eager young minds cannot compare to an office filled with befuddled, hot-flashing, emotional menopausal women and you will repent of your errant ways and come back to us. Fortunately I just saw you, so you have a full 11 months to come to your senses. Just keep my name in your contact list – I’ll be right there.
Seriously, (actually the preceding was only about half not-serious) I cannot let you ride off into the sunset without thanking you for being the caring, thorough, reassuring doctor you have been the last 15 years. You were with us when we lost the miracle baby that wasn’t supposed to have ever even been; you were there when I had to come to terms with the realization that part of my life was over and I would be having a hysterectomy at 40 years old. You helped me not only survive that surgery but thrive and see it as a very good thing – feeling good for the first time in 15 years. You were graciously there when I had to endure the gut-wrenching angst of standing beside my son who was acting as though he hadn’t a brain in his head. So although I am thoroughly selfish and making this all about me, I wish you the very best. Our loss is certainly the next generation of doctor’s gain. If you can instill in them one-half the caring, gentle, sincere bedside manner you possess then my daughter will be in good hands.
God bless you!
Thankfully but sadly,
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