Lucille Iacovelli
iLanders who have read my earliest posts may recall my negative experience with cosmetic facial surgery. I was left with serious functional disorders which have progressed to a life threatening degree. I will not reiterate the details here which can be found on my website Losing Face. Put simply, I was blacklisted as a patient by the most competent surgeons here in US after going public with my story. There were a few truly compassionate doctors who tried their best to help me, but not being plastic surgeons, their hands were tied to a great extent.
One of these doctors is my primary care physician. She is from India, and I could not hope for a more highly skilled, kind, compassionate doctor. I had the good fortune to become her patient when she first arrived on Cape Cod, as patients gravitated to her like bees to blossoms. My situation has been deeply frustrating to her, as she does everything within her realm of speciality in seeing that I receive every possible diagnostic that might convince a surgeon I am in need of corrective surgery. However, the politics involved in the medical profession in this country, particularly in the realm of plastic surgery where surgeons' egos tend to expand to phenomenal proportions and the brethren of this specialty tend to "protect their own", even when that means allowing patients injured by negligent colleagues to remain untreated for serious conditions.
As my condition has essentially disabled me to the point where surviving every 24 hours has become a toss of fate, and I struggle to accomplish the most needful things to maintain Independency, I literally begged a surgeon I know to be highly skillful and good hearted to agree to examine me. This required months of e-mail communication, and I am certain he agreed to help me against the judgement of his colleagues, who warned him against any involvement with my situation.
After an appointment date was made, I had to see my primary care physician and told her about this long awaited breakthrough. I felt very hopeful that day, and my heart felt lighter than it had for years. This was the first glimmer of hope in an otherwise gloomy state of being. I am rarely able to leave my flat these days, and my monthly visit to my doctor is understandably frustrating for us both. I am acutely aware that my condition has made her feel helpless and my heart aches for her because she is so sensitive to her patients' distress. On this day, however, I knew our visit would be brighter than she could know. I decided to wear a lovely muted gray-green sari to mark the occasion. I usually dress very simply and plainly these days, as adornment becomes the last of ones' concerns when all one's energy is necessary to manage the needful.
As I draped my sari that morning, I worried, just for a moment, that it would not be done perfectly to her eyes! But I am used to wearing a sari, which I believe is the perfect garment for every woman, versatile as well as beautiful. One can wear a sari for every occasion. Dr. Gour's eyes lit up when I walked into her examining room in my sari. When I told her about the appointment with the surgeon, the room felt full of hope.. my hope of possibly being restored enough to live a normal life, and her hope for me.
She then began the practical part of her exemplary doctoring and gently but firmly reminded me of the possibility that things might get worse if I have surgery and asked if I was prepared for that. We discussed the status of my health, and again expressed her happiness about the appointment.
Then she said something that will stay with me forever.. just recalling that moment fills my eyes with tears of great emotion. She pressed her hands together in namaste and said "I will pray for you". I do not know if this beautiful ex-pression of faith and hope is often spoken by Indian doctors to their patients, but this is the first time a doctor ever said they would pray for me. I was overwhelmed with her heartfelt ex-pression of caring. Her words and compassion went from her heart to mine will remain with me always. I have had doctors who expressed true compassion and a deep desire for my well being, but never have these words been said, and hearing them expressed with such openness and sincerity, one heart to the other, is truly the most special medicine my exceptional doctor could have provided. Prayer...a treatment to last a lifetime. On my way out of her office she turned to me and said "Thank you for wearing the sari". I left there with my heart so full! May your life be rich in blessings, Dr. Gour.
Lucille Iacovelli
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A Special Kind of Medicine