My New Hero

I regret questioning him yesterday.

Saturday I went looking for medical care. What I wanted, and what none of the tons of e-mails that offer me online pharmacies offered, was penicillin. I remembered a nearby "Urgent Care" facility and rode over on my bike, hoping to sweet talk some medico into giving me a prescription.

I'd driven by the place thousands of times, and even met one of its staff once in a nearby 7-11 (she commented favorably on my ice cream selection), but had never been inside. I'd been to another of them to have our blood tested before getting married, but all of my medical needs had been performed at one HMO or associated doctor all my adult life.

The Urgent Care facility had big, bright signs promising seven day, twenty-four hour assistance, but those were trumped by a handwritten sign in the window saying they were history and suggesting I contact my employer. I rode back home and did a search for Urgent Care in my neighborhood and found a place a few miles away. I called and got an appointment an hour later.

This "urgent care" place wasn't a clinic at all. In fact, I had the devil of a time finding it at all, even thought I had the address. What I didn't have was the "suite" number, and it was in a tiny strip mall next to a dog grooming place. Nothing painted on the window to help me either, and it was the only spot in the mall without one. Just a glass front into a waiting area that could barely hold the three chairs.

Behind an open door sat a thin Asian around forty or so. He wore a blue smock, polyester pants and shirt, with worn shoes. He was alone, there wasn't even a receptionist, and his entire office was the size of a large room in my home. He was on the phone, speaking with a patient (I guess), but hung up when I peered in.

He motioned me into his office, behind the waiting room, and I sat at his desk and filled out a piece of paper. He used a modern thermometer to take my temperature (97.5?) and had one of the classic blood pressure things laying on his desk. There were six or seven books on a shelf, one of which was the PDR and on his desk a slim volume about dental things. I guessed he picked that up after my call and did some brushing up. He looked in my mouth, poked my gum with a stick, and apologized profusely.

He complimented me on my printing and we spoke for maybe half an hour of this and that. He was the only doctor I've seen who didn't pop in, pretend to know me, and pop out. We chatted about the economy, about my bike, and it was the most satisfying doctor's visit I've ever had. He was in no hurry, and, most importantly, came across as a regular guy, like he worked in a hardware store.

After giving me my scrip (and another for the codeine), he walked me out and let me know he'd be there if I ever needed anything like a flu shot. This is like the coolest doctor, ever!

I have no idea how well his business is doing, but I don't think he's making tons of money, he's just being a doctor. His place is near Loyola University and as I rode home I wondered if he did a lot of business with the students. They probably have their own medical facility, but it's a Catholic University so maybe he's a handy place for students to get birth control prescriptions.

I'd be comfortable going to him if I severed a limb or just about anything else. His card says "M.D." with none of that limiting specialization I've seen on everyone else's card, and he strikes me as just a little guy doing doctor stuff.

Dr. Teck Tan is my new hero.

He missed a bit on when the swelling would go down and my mouth would feel better and I wondered if his prescribed pills would work, but my misgivings were wrong. This morning I feel not bad, not bad at all, considering!

This is much better than self-medicating with Martel cognac.