My Doctor’s Visit
This morning, I went to the doctor.
It was meant to be simple; blood tests, check-up, reassurance.
But what unfolded was so much more; a journey through memories, love, grief, courage and finally, lightness.
The Lab & The Routine
I started at the lab, where a nurse did the usual poke on my left arm. Then came the urine test and after that, I was free to head to the clinic.
Since I was early, the doctor’s nurse suggested breakfast. Toast with butter, half-boiled eggs, a cup of unsweetened chai; simple, grounding and unexpectedly comforting.
Sitting there, my heart wandered through the past decade…bringing my mom to this same clinic, watching her bond with the doctor who became like family, who cared for her until her last moments.
Memories Flood In
Today is February 7th — just 13 months after my mom passed on January 7th, 2025.
Sitting there, memories of her presence were vivid. I could almost see her in the wheelchair, quietly observing me as she always did. If my hair had been down, she would have frowned with a smile and whispered, “Tie your hair up!”
Talking with the nurse, who had also been close to my mom, brought back even more tender reflections. My mom worried most about me. Even about things that seemed small, like whether I would find a partner and not stay alone. I cried quietly but composed myself as other patients came in for their appointments.
Meeting the Doctor
When it was finally my turn, the doctor asked me to explain the dizziness I had experienced. Looking at my blood test results, he said everything was fine. My occasional, brief spells of dizziness and the slight increase in tinnitus were nothing to worry about. I mentioned I’d already started taking Betaserc, which helped and he was pleased.
Then we talked, not just about symptoms but about life. I shared stories of my recent winter challenges and my Nepal trip. He shared his own winter adventures. The clinical space became human again; a space for connection, storytelling and laughter.
The Relief
Walking out, the weight of fear, worry and the past few days lifted. The culprit was my tinnitus, not illness. My body was well. My mind was well. I was well.
Reflection
Today reminded me that showing up for yourself, even for a routine check-up, is an act of courage.
Grief and memory do not disappear in these moments; they sit quietly with us.
But so can clarity, reassurance and relief; like a deep, gentle exhale.
My mom would have been proud.
I am grateful.
And today, I am light.
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