Doctor Date (01/16/2025)

The tradition began when I was undergoing surgeries and treatments for my breast cancer. Whenever I had an appointment or a hospital stay, my husband would take me out for a meal afterwards. We called them our “doctor dates.” They were never fancy, but they always conveyed to me the important message that I was seen and that what I was experiencing mattered.

Yesterday, I had an appointment at the cancer center, and my husband surprised me by suggesting that we should do our traditional “doctor date” afterwards. I reminded him that it was an early afternoon appointment, but he told me that didn’t matter. I was to pick the place.

My husband, Kenneth, drove us to the center and waited in the car as I went in for a simple port flush. When I re-emerged, he picked me up at the door of the center and drove us to Madison. We went to Red Lobster which is unusual for our “doctor dates.” Usually, they are for a simple salad or sandwich at a local shop. But I was all in. As we drove, we talked and laughed. I must admit it made my day. When we arrived at Red Lobster, we pretty much had the place to ourselves. It was us and our waitperson, Becky, and somewhere unseen was our chef. It was great.

I couldn’t eat all my food, so we brought home today’s lunch. We just love that about “doctor dates.” I usually can’t finish my food, so we get a “two-fer”, a second meal out of the adventure. As we drove home, we continued our conversation. That was the other thing I always loved about our “doctor date.” It was always just Kenneth and I, in the car, no interruptions, just conversations and presence.

Last evening as I pondered my day on the porch, I gave thanks for Kenneth, for “doctor dates,” for those times of loving care and conversation, of presence and hope. The LORD and I agreed, I have been abundantly blessed.

And I have learned from these. Kenneth has shown me the importance of presence and of seeing the other. We always knew our “doctor dates” weren’t going to change my diagnosis or prognosis, but they mattered in the moment, especially in those moments when I felt so very vulnerable, so very much “less” – bald, bloated, bandaged. He taught me what just being present can mean to another. He taught me what a healing bond love applied can be.

As we journey in faith, hope and love, let us commit to sharing the journey with others who are experiencing rough times, who are enduring hardships or are grieving. We can’t change what they are dealing with but we can help them by being present to them, by sharing time with them, by letting them know they are seen and their pain matters. Let us have empathy and compassion, let us exhibit presence and loving concern. Let us be Christ to one another.

Until tomorrow, let us all love well.