Switching seats

Yesterday I got to participate in an experience that as of lately seems to be very rare. I got to go to a doctor, but not as the patient.

My wife is experiencing some extreme pain in her upper left shoulder. All signs point to a pinched nerve, but it is hard to know for sure. After enduring 5 days of high level pain she finally decided yesterday to bite the bullet and go see a doc even though we highly suspected that they would just tell us what we already knew. So about 4:30pm, I drive her to Care Now (we have come to love the convenience of these clinics over our family practictioner) and enter a process that I have become all too familiar with lately: fill out forms, nurse checks vitals, wait for the doc in a small examination room, and get examined.

But this time I got to sit in the "support" chair. I was there, not as the patient, but as the one who gives moral support and encouragement. I didn't have to hop up on the exam table. I didn't get interviewed. I didn't get poked and prodded. It was nice. Don't get me wrong. I am very sorry that my wife is in pain and that we had to go to the doctor in the first place. But being in the "support" chair was a refreshing change of view. I relished the chance to be the caretaker instead of the sick one and I enjoyed the role swap even if it was for a brief moment.

There was another emotion swimming around in me also, though. Again, while I am sorry for my wife's pain, I experienced a certain joy that I wasn't the only sick one around. My wife and I shared something in common. We were both not feeling well. I had somebody to commiserate with, somebody on my team. The doctor even prescribed the same medicine that I am taking for pain. Granted, our illnesses are completely different, but for a moment, I didn't feel special - called out from the crowd because of some extraordinary characteristics. I realize that may sound sick, that I would take joy in somebody else's pain. But it gets hard on a guy being the only sick one in a family. You get tired of being "special" under circumstances like this.

And it will be a brief moment indeed. This Thursday I head back down to MD Anderson for some tests and then ultimately for another biopsy on Friday. Looks like I will be hopping back onto that exam table real soon and back to my familiar view of loved ones in the "support" chairs.