I was 14 years old when Christopher Reeve was thrown from his horse and left a quadriplegic. I know the day, because I looked it up. I couldn’t have told you when, but I remember the sadness we felt in my family and the news that the iconic comic character Superman was no longer the invincible hero he once was. It was both surreal and profound. Superman wasn’t real. And he wasn’t Christopher Reeve.
Superman Doctor B is officially off our case. The hero that I would have followed anywhere has decided that she no longer wants to be our doctor.
Perhaps it was all too much. An ideal that we made into something too big and that she certainly never asked for. She is just a doctor after all. And I can’t imagine sitting in the office looking back at a patient that has just told you that she’s going to look anywhere she can to help. I can’t imagine that, nor can I imagine wanting to no longer be a part of Marley’s life. Ever. She is the only doctor that has known her since birth. The only doctor that gave us hope, that raced out of that first surgery giddy and with a faint but euphoric smile that said “I saved it!” She sat there and gave me comfort when I questioned the pregnancy and how something I did may have caused this- the loose soccer ball that hit my belly. The hours in the car cramped for our tournaments. The extensive sleeping that I couldn’t recover from. She reassured me this was something that just happened and it wasn’t my fault. It was something deep into the formation of Marley’s veins and it would have been regardless. That she can make her okay. That petit framed doctor that seemed giant in stature- Superman proportions, now just seems so small.
I felt so angry initially. How could she not want to be our doctor. How could she give up. How could she no longer help when I need her to now. How could she lose sight of the goal- do whatever it takes to be at Marley’s side in whatever capacity that is. HOW? She’s a Doctor!!
but... she doesn’t want to and I have to accept that. Now, I just feel sad. Because Marley’s story will be so much bigger and there will be no more Doctor B.
Superman isn’t real. And he isn’t our Doctor B.
.
.
.
There is hope though. She comes in an equally petite frame with a tousle of curly brown hair and wide eyes set deep behind a pair of glasses. She’s charismatic. And instantly a best friend and superhero in her own right. I may not tell her that right away although she already knows it. Unlike Doctor B, this one is Clark Kent at the hospital waiting to throw off her scrubs to reveal her cape always at the ready underneath. She was made for this. Her only visible downfall? She lives in Orange County California. And we live in Ohio... dramatic deep breath...
Superman Doctor B is officially off our case. The hero that I would have followed anywhere has decided that she no longer wants to be our doctor.
Perhaps it was all too much. An ideal that we made into something too big and that she certainly never asked for. She is just a doctor after all. And I can’t imagine sitting in the office looking back at a patient that has just told you that she’s going to look anywhere she can to help. I can’t imagine that, nor can I imagine wanting to no longer be a part of Marley’s life. Ever. She is the only doctor that has known her since birth. The only doctor that gave us hope, that raced out of that first surgery giddy and with a faint but euphoric smile that said “I saved it!” She sat there and gave me comfort when I questioned the pregnancy and how something I did may have caused this- the loose soccer ball that hit my belly. The hours in the car cramped for our tournaments. The extensive sleeping that I couldn’t recover from. She reassured me this was something that just happened and it wasn’t my fault. It was something deep into the formation of Marley’s veins and it would have been regardless. That she can make her okay. That petit framed doctor that seemed giant in stature- Superman proportions, now just seems so small.
I felt so angry initially. How could she not want to be our doctor. How could she give up. How could she no longer help when I need her to now. How could she lose sight of the goal- do whatever it takes to be at Marley’s side in whatever capacity that is. HOW? She’s a Doctor!!
but... she doesn’t want to and I have to accept that. Now, I just feel sad. Because Marley’s story will be so much bigger and there will be no more Doctor B.
Superman isn’t real. And he isn’t our Doctor B.
.
.
.
There is hope though. She comes in an equally petite frame with a tousle of curly brown hair and wide eyes set deep behind a pair of glasses. She’s charismatic. And instantly a best friend and superhero in her own right. I may not tell her that right away although she already knows it. Unlike Doctor B, this one is Clark Kent at the hospital waiting to throw off her scrubs to reveal her cape always at the ready underneath. She was made for this. Her only visible downfall? She lives in Orange County California. And we live in Ohio... dramatic deep breath...
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