Docent

Last week’s annual trek to the pediatrician’s office with my 16-year old son seemed somewhat like an oxymoron.  My oldest, looking down on me now and sporting facial hair, seems wildly out of place in this juvenile space, his attention no longer held by the board books and Disney movies in the waiting room. But I just love the doctor so much I can’t bring myself to make a change. 

I forget as the seasons fly by what a valuable asset this man is to us, wondering this year as I left the office, how to capitalize on this resource despite his sporadic appearance in our lives. With an amazing way of connecting with both parents and their offspring, he truly differentiates himself from his peers. 

The visits are always structured in the same way.  The bulk of the time is the three of us in the room talking.  He asks all of the standard medical-type questions, but he wants to know about life, too, delving into school, grades, friends, eating, sleeping, hobbies, habits (good and bad) and the future.  He truly treats the whole person. And these conversations are not easy anymore.  As the kids grow, so do the issues.  Drinking no longer refers to milk and helmets aren’t necessarily for bike riding.

His bedside manner makes it impossible for even the most guarded kid not to give up at least a little bit of what’s on the inside.  He is compassionate.  He listens.  He makes you feel like he has all the time in the world for you.  He is fair and balanced. He is fact-based and credible, yet he acknowledges fears and apprehension with soothing empathy.  He talks about lapses in judgment and bad choices not with disdain or retribution, but in terms of their potential to close doors to the future.

When I look at this man, I see someone who has found his calling. 

Mother and son ended up on opposite sides of a recommendation at one point in the conversation. The doctor stated his reasons in support of my opinion, but also acknowledged that there are no huge risks with the course of action my son favored.  Rather than force the issue, knowing that this could jeopardize an important relationship, we agreed it was wise to leave the choice up to my son.  Funny thing is, when he referred to the relationship at risk, he wasn’t talking about me.  He was talking about his connection with my child!  This doctor actually told my boy, “You need me to get through the balance of high school.”  He extended an open-ended invitation for a phone call if there was ever a need to talk.  Wow.

I know few men in this day and age who are willing to put themselves out there like that for a child who is not their own. With that offering he crossed the line from ordinary to extraordinary.

Beyond that, he helped me see my son in a whole different light that day.  I gleaned from an unfamiliar vantage point that it truly is time for me to let my child grow up. The reins of decision-making are slipping from my hands.  Choices that were fully in my control now need to be made jointly, or even solely by him.  He can and will consult other trusted adults when he has questions. We’re at the tipping point. I have to share him now.  And I’m not sure I want to.

Launching a child out into the world is fraught with mixed emotions.  I wish I could be certain that every person he’s exposed to is of the caliber of the doctor.  Wouldn’t that make things easy, to hand our children over to those who share our views and truly care?  The world is a tough place.  My kids won’t leave the nest to experience nothing but smooth sailing.

But neither have I.  Somehow I’m finding my way and they will too.