Last week I was forced to pay a visit to my doctor. Well, it is quite an happening to me because I am always fine - thank God! - and I really do believe in the old saying: “An Apple a Day, Keeps the Doctor Away!”. Anyway, perhaps the Apples are not what they ‘re used to be, so… I was caught by a virus that works on our psychologic system and it seems that make us feel fragile as if we were sad or going through an emotional pain… Quite weird, actually!

So, there I was, trying to explain to my Doctor - who rarelly seems me - my “je ne ces’t quois” symptoms, feeling awkward for not knowing very well what was happening to me. On that day, there as a trainee doctor with him and he was explaining - during the time it was with me - what he was doing, why, and the decisions he was taking. But, on the other hand, he included me on the training…

My doctor was explaining to the trainee and to me that he had been on a Conference the day before, doing a presentation to students of the 9th grade to whom will be asked to choose a career path, by the end of this school term. So he explained the positive aspects of being a Doctor but he also preapared themselves - without scaring but encouraging them - to the less positive ones.

In Portugal, a Family doctor - the so called general medical practitioner - has 12 minutes for a Patient Visit. Can you imagine? How do you listen, examine, talk to and specially explain a Patient the reasons why he does not feel good and the reasons why he has to see the Doctor?…  How do you explain and prepare a patient that is about to know that has a Cancer? Ou that he or she has Diabetes and that the daily routines are going to change for the rest of the patient’s life?… How do you deal with feelings and fragile minds on particular moments in… 12 minutes?…

Well, this is not very sexy for an young doctor due to the stress caused by the amount of patients a doctor sees per day, in general. Quick responses in such a short period and controled time is just simply terrible when it comes to human lives. But my Doctor - whom I did not see very often - surprised me with such an emotional inteligence to deal with these situations while he was telling the trainee his experience in dealing with Time trying not to scare at all but confronting him with the naked  reality of these times where the Healthcare Systems are now ruled my Managers instead of Doctors.

Even being highly experienced and emotionally able to deal with these and even other higher stressfull situations, mistakes are expected to happen. And when it comes to human lives… there’s no Time for escuses!

Slow Regards from Lisbon,

Birdie

My first flash-bulb memory of my dad comes from the day we moved into our family home in 1962. I remember sitting in the moving truck, looking at my legs, looking at the driver’s legs, my dad’s leg, then back to my legs. I willed my legs to grow long enough to hang over the edge of the seat, just like them.  I wanted to be as tall and big and strong as my dad. I was two. 

I’m as tall as my dad now (I passed my mum’s height in elementary school), but, I’ve sadly realized that I’m probably stronger than my dad.  I never thought of myself as stronger than my dad, until this week.

I have to be the one with the strength now…both physically and emotionally.

I can’t believe that it was only a week ago that I was researching the Slow Movement, and discovered a few references to “slow medicine”.   Ah, interesting, I thought - sounds a lot like what I’m doing with birth - focusing on reclaiming the rhythm of life, honouring the needs of the body, honouring the wishes of the family, and saying “No” to expensive, unnecessary procedures. 

Thanks to the researchers at Dartmouth Medical School, physicians are now being encouraged to practice slow medicine, by educating their patients and their families about the high risks and low rewards associated with high-tech medical care for the elderly.  Slow medicine can help families avoid the trauma of 911 calls and emergency room visits.  Slow medicine is more about comfort than cure.

Slow medicine allows the elderly to journey gently to the end of life.  Slow birth asks people to consider the autonomy and dignity of undisturbed birth or home birth.  Slow medicine asks people to consider the autonomy and dignity of home death.  Whether entering or leaving this life, the slow movement helps us to make these transitions with grace.

So, it was quite ironic (or perfect in its synchronicity) that, only a few days later, I sat with my mum and dad, the most amazing and loving couple that I’ve ever met, in the Krall Centre (a gift from Diana Krall and friends in memory of her mum), and listened to the hematologist say, “I’m sorry…acute myeloid leukemia…weeks to months…” He told us that, because the disease is so advanced, he wouldn’t suggest any aggressive treatment, but would offer supportive care.  I placed my hand on my dad’s knee, and felt him suppress a sob.

“Slow medicine?” I asked quietly.

“Yes.”

I don’t know if the doctor knows what slow medicine is, but he was gracious enough to follow my lead.  ”We really don’t know how long it will be. Live fully.”

“Can I still garden?  Paint?” asked my dad.

So, rather than undergoing any chemotherapy, which would make him so ill, my wonderful, strong dad is up in his studio today, working on a new watercolour.  He looks so young at 83.  His eyes sparkle with tears.  He calls himself Peter Pan - “I will live to 100.”

With the help of slow medicine, we will be able to help dad make this transition with dignity - telling stories, gardening, dancing, kayaking…and we will all be strong.