I was thinking, Honey, about my wonderful doctor. . .

“I was thinking, Honey!” I said from my usual seat in the warm morning sun by the picture window which overlooked my small backyard perennial garden.

My beloved looked at me in abject terror, sweat beads formed on his brow and heart palpitations reved up in his chest, visible under his striped blue cotton pyjamas. He trembled in fear of what might come next out of my mouth. He stopped in his tracks and listened with the focus and intensity of a military general awaiting instructions from on high to push the button to start a nuclear war. And all of this happened while he was giving me my morning peck on the cheek.

The last time he heard those few words, ‘I was thinking, Honey!’, it cost him not just the $799 for a new fridge at the Brick, but ended a month later with half his Manordale bungalow dismantled in its entirety: three walls taken down, (the Democrats would like to hear more about that I suspect), the ceiling scraped flat, the floors ripped out and a truck load of IKEA grey cupboards installed. All that was to the tune of about fifty thousand clams from his RIF, so I am sure every guy understands the trepidation my ‘Honey’ was feeling.

“The doctors in our province need support. I am going to try to muster support and write something for them. I think they are really up against it and rarely get the appreciation they deserve. I think they are trying to deliver excellent care to their patients but are hamstrung by a whole whack of things such as lengthy waiting times, overcrowded hospitals and rising overhead costs. I think we give them pretty lousy pay considering their extensive training and incredible responsibility. And, I also think they must be very discouraged with so little power to change the system for the better!”

“Then think on, my sweet”, he said. “As long as you are not planning to have me kick start an all out provincial protest rally at Queen’s Park about the dreadful cuts to healthcare and how much our doctors need more to do better, you can tell me what you are thinking.  What might you say about your family doctor, Doctor Kristy Staples, the beauty we met at the Bruce Pit dog park one Friday afternoon?”

“I could speak of her extra efforts to help me get my driver’s license back, when after almost two years she told me to have the Department of Transportation call her directly. She spoke to them that day and I got my license back in hours!.”

“I could speak about how she told me to eat better, lose weight and exercise daily like she did. I lost 40 pounds, made peace with exercise daily at Movati, was weaned off my prescriptions by acting on her wise advice. My health improved dramatically following doctor’s orders and I was able to retain my total groove: my home, my car, my dog, my friends, my neighbours and the activities that allow me to enjoy such a high quality of life as a ‘classic’ woman.”

“I could speak of her warmth, compassion and respectful manner with me. She has a genuine sense of humour as well. I recall laughing with her about sexuality in one’s seventies, explaining that the joys of physical expression are hard wired in us women and she had nothing to fear about getting older in that department. She said she would inform her partner of this observation by her patient. She figured he would think this good news.”

“I thought maybe I could entitle my piece,

Dr. Kristy Staples: A Doctor’s doctor or Doctor Kristy Staples: A Doctor who ‘Walks the Talk.

“So what do you think, Honey?” I asked.

“I like your thinking, sweetie. I think you have ‘done good.’”, he replied in a familiar supportive comment while bending over to hush me with another gentle kiss on my cheek.

Then, I got thinking about what he was thinking, and stopped thinking about doctors and my wonderful physician, Doctor Kristy Staples.