I have met a great many doctors in my life. That makes it very easy to compare and contrast. When I had pneumonia and almost died, my immunologist saved my life. And I told him I was grateful. He said something about religion.
I loved my family doctor when I was a child. I remember him giving out suckers to his patients right as they were leaving.
I had an allergist doctor stop what he was doing and coach me to eat five tiny micro meals throughout the day to treat my diabetes. I liked him for the kind attention and good advice he gave me.
I talked one time with one dorky looking fellow right out of med school. I shared with him that I had steroid induced diabetes. He twisted his face and sneered at me. I just avoided him next time. He was smart enough to pass the med school tests, but had unpleasant, untreated marketing problems.
In a hospital one time, when my lung collapsed, one hospitalist doctor called another doctor a “thoracic bozo”. That was not very friendly nor professional. It may also have been true.
About six in the morning, right before surgery, one surgeon told me that he needed a stiff drink to steady his hands in order to do my surgery. I could not tell if that were a joke or if he were serious. The surgery went well. Right after the surgery, he moved to North Carolina. I have no complaints, really, but that was a strange comment, right before surgery.
I like my gastro-interologist. He plays loud rock music in the operating room when he does colonoscopies.
My primary now is a good chap and friendly, but when my heart issue became too complicated, he asked me to go back and see my cardiologist for anything around my heart. I go to several specialists and just bring back the results to my primary. My chart is pretty thick, but I am still alive and I’m grateful.