Rather Suspect

On the one hand, you have your body, that strange and wonderous vessel into which your soul was poured. What do you know of your body? Special things, intimate things. How you feel when you place a chocolate mint on your tongue. That warm shiver in your back when someone special takes your hand.

On the other hand, you have this thing we call the healthcare “system.” And a system it is: buildings and machinery, administrators and online portals, charts and graphs and beeping machines that poke and prod. And somewhere — I guess — inside that machine, a set of professionals in special uniforms who analyze and treat, so often by prescribing chemicals that have been studied extensively in trials and are almost certainly what you need.

And of course that is what you need, right? Because your body is physical, biological — and so it’s time for the full weight of good old science to come to your rescue.

And the thing is, that science? It’s amazing.

But.

There is a disconnect here, a weird one. You take one thing, the most intimate of all things, and how do you care for it? Easy. Eat well, and experience that. Move well, and feel that. Love well, and envelop yourself in that.

Oh, and then, occasionally? Plug yourself into a trillion-dollar capitalist machine, book a few appointments, run some “labs.” Pre-approval with your insurance is of course key. Slide yourself into million-dollar devices if you’re able, the “tech” will show you how.

Must it be this way? Must if feel like this? There are necessary evils in this world, other “systems.” AT&T. United Airlines. Amazon. We utilize them, but we don’t connect with them.

Does healthcare need to feel like AT&T? Couldn’t it feel like our local grocery store? Like the coffee shop at the end of the block?

Doctors are busy, nurses are busy, everyone is busy. But…why? The coffee shop is busy, and then it’s not. Plenty of slack times. Those are my favorites times, actually. A coffee at 10:30am, or 2 in the afternoon. Time to enjoy, to linger.

But you don’t understand, they might say, there is such demand. No. No. There’s such demand like there’s such demand for the flight to Phoenix.

It’s a full flight. It’s always a full flight.

Why? Because how would the airlines make money if they flew you to Phoenix and the flight was only two-thirds full? Preposterous!

But preposterous is what I want. Doctors who have the time to linger. Nurses who are relaxing. Humans, meeting humans, being human.

What would it take, I wonder, for this “system” to change? For us to acknowledge: this thing, this special, intimate, magical thing we call our body — deserves something else. Not a “system.” Connection. Love. And care. Deep, slow, lingering care.