I received the following letter from John the other day. He requested that I post this in my blogs, because his experience along with Carol show the ever-worsening problem in our world-
-social isolation and miscommunications as explained in the last paragraph of this letter. Please note the last sentence in John's letter that I highlighted and enlarged.
"Carol and I had an experience today that has left both of us sad, puzzled, and, yes, a bit angry. Here goes:
As do many of us here at THD, Carol and I have periodic checkups by physicians in various fields and, as needed, receive treatment. One of these has been a gastroenterologist who has had a solo practice here in Walnut Creek for many years. Since we moved to the East Bay in 2000, this doctor has not only performed routine colonoscopes on us but has also treated us with kindness and skill for intestinal illnesses. The last time we saw this doctor was in March of this year, when he happily gave Carol a clean bill of health following a colonoscopy.
About a month later, we received a bill from him for his services which we paid promptly. The check was cashed, and we figured everything was fully settled.
About a week ago, another bill arrived in the mail for the same amount from this same doctor. We were puzzled, but we decided to pay the bill by mail anyway, thinking that it perhaps for a visit that had not been billed, and we planned to get clarification when this check was also cashed.
We were shocked, therefore, when, in today's mail, we found the sealed envelope, unopened, with a sticker that read "return to sender". We had addressed the envelope correctly.
Puzzled, we called the doctor's office. Rather than anyone answering the phone, a computerized greeting came on, advising the caller, "Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system...The mailbox is full and cannot accept any messages at this time."
By now, Carol and I were both confused and alarmed. The doctor was an older man, and we worried that he might have died. This physician had been a member of John Muir Health, as is our primary care doctor. We called our primary doctor's office, but no one had any information to provide. They suggested we go to the gastroenterologist's office.
At about 4:00 P.M, we did so. When we arrived, we sadly found the door locked, the office completely dark, and the name of a medical lab on the door. We went to the neighboring medical office and learned that the doctor had disappeared several months ago. The woman with whom Carol and I spoke said that, while there had been speculation among the personnel in the various offices in the complex, no one seemed to know what had happened or what had become of the doctor. All we learned was that the man had been "a quiet neighbor".
This whole experience has left us completely mystified. When other doctors we've had have retired or closed their practices, we have always been notified in advance, by letter, phone, or in person. We knew this doctor to be extremely shy, and he always maintained a solo practice. The lack of communication and the inability to get any useful information is distressing.
I am sharing this story to highlight what I believe is an ever-worsening problem in our world-social isolation and, indeed, the erosion of the desire to communicate even the most basic information to those who would benefit by receiving it. The more we human beings are in touch with each other, the better off we will be physically, socially, and emotionally!
Carol and I are so grateful to live here at THD, where we can care about and share with each other", John Larimore.
Personal Note: Expand your horizons! Vary your meal times companions here at Newton's once in a while! Try the circular table for 6 in the Comet Room for a pleasant conversation at Dinner Time. Also, enjoy the modern art paintings! The temperature settings of the room is perfect. There is no need to wear a sweater or light jackets. Meanwhile from My FaceBook Page Today: When a 78-year old man rants about dog-eaters rampaging through Ohio, you have him evaluated by a geriatric neurologist. You don’t hand him the nuclear codes.
