On being ... sold

By Ingrid Sapona

When I moved here over 20 years ago I found my dentist -- Dr. M -- through a good friend. I liked Dr. M from the very first visit and I stuck with him. I was so pleased with my friend’s recommendation of Dr. M, I also signed on with her GP. I went to that doctor for a couple years, but I never felt completely comfortable with her. When she moved her practice to the suburbs I decided to try to find someone closer. At the urging of a doctor friend, I got a few names and I basically interviewed them. I struck gold through that process when I found Dr. E. I loved her manner and I felt comfortable enough to discuss anything with her.

One of the things I took into consideration when I was looking for a doctor and dentist was their age. Though there’s something reassuring about a parental figure -- I wanted someone who wouldn’t be retiring for awhile because I didn’t want to be doctor shopping again too soon. I’m not a great judge of age, but I figured Dr. M and Dr. E were only a few years older than me. Did I mention it was about 20 years ago that I found them?

Three years ago when I went for my annual physical Dr. E was not there. She had broken her hip (while running, of all things!) and was out of commission. I had the choice of re-scheduling the physical months later when Dr. E was back or seeing a substitute that Dr. E had found. I kept the appointment and I liked the sub – she had a similar, approachable style.

Then, about a year ago, I got a letter from Dr. E explaining she was retiring early but that she had found someone to take over her practice. In the letter she introduced Dr. L, telling us about her background and experience. She also explained how we could get our records transferred if we didn’t want to go to the new doctor. Dr. E’s office even had an open house for patients to meet Dr. L. Though I was quite devastated by Dr. E’s retirement, the way she handled the transition made me feel I was being left in good hands.

Earlier this month I had a dental appointment. As the appointment approached, I was surprised Dr. M’s office didn’t call to remind me about it, as they usually do. Finally, the day before the appointment I got a voice mail reminder. The caller (a voice I didn’t recognize) also mentioned “some changes”, including that the office had moved and that a Dr. Y had bought the practice from Dr. M, who had semi-retired.

Stunned, I phoned the office. After making sure I understood exactly where the new office was, Dr. Y’s receptionist assured me I’d still see my normal hygienist. That was great, I told her, but I wanted to see Dr. M. She said that shouldn’t be a problem because, as it happened, Dr. M would be in that day and she’d make sure he’d see me.

While I was with the hygienist, Dr. M popped his head in and said hello. When the hygienist was done, Dr. Y came in and introduced himself and proceeded to examine me. When he was done, I mentioned I wanted to see Dr. M. He mumbled something under his breath but said that would be fine and he dispatched the hygienist to get Dr. M.

When she came back and said Dr. M. was busy, I said I’d be happy to wait at reception until he was free. I could tell this didn’t set well, but I didn’t care. A few minutes later I was ushered into Dr. M’s office. Dr. M clearly thought I was there for his opinion on my dental health, but I told him that wasn’t my main concern.

I explained that I found it odd that he hadn’t sent a letter or anything. He sighed and explained that he planned on doing so and had written one but that Dr. Y asked him not to send it. Instead, apparently, Dr. Y agreed to give a copy of the letter to patients when they came in. Well, despite having had my exam and having paid, I wasn’t given any letter.

Dr. M was apologetic and asked his assistant to get me a copy of it. While we were waiting he explained that he didn’t think it was appropriate to mail a letter before the deal closed but he planned on sending one immediately afterward. But, once the sale was complete, Dr. Y pointed out that, strictly speaking, the patients were no longer Dr. M’s and Dr. Y didn’t want the letter sent. Dr. Y’s rationale was that he thought a letter might prompt patients to go elsewhere, especially since the office itself had relocated.

I told Dr. M that I disagreed with that decision and I explained that, if anything, the way it was handled left me feeling abandoned, not to mention wondering about Dr. Y’s credentials. In essence, I wanted to hear something from Dr. M that would make me feel reassured about the person to whom my care was being entrusted.

On an intellectual level I know medicine is a business and that practices are “bought and sold”, but as a patient I don’t appreciate being made to feel that I’m a commodity that’s just part of a deal. And, having been part of two such sales in the past year, I can tell you there’s more to buying a practice than buying a roster of names. Or, to put it another way, when a doctor buys a practice he ought to realize that patients must be “sold” on being treated by the new guy and that that sale isn’t about business.

© 2009 Ingrid Sapona

On being ... duped?

By Ingrid Sapona

The title of this column is courtesy of my friend Barb (who I hope doesn’t mind me attributing it to her). She offered it up as we were leaving the opening night of a free, three-day grand finale of Luminato, an arts and culture festival. The finale featured Canada’s world-famous Cirque du Soleil in an event created exclusively for the festival. The media was abuzz about the event, but details were scant.

Festival organizers described the Cirque performance as involving two mythical communities of performers -- one representing the untamed, natural world and the other representing man-made urbanization. Members of the two communities would start at different ends of the waterfront and make their way toward the centre where they’d converge later in the weekend. Given this, I had the impression Cirque performers would be roaming around the waterfront, interacting with people. A newspaper article on Thursday, however, described two distinct points on the waterfront where the Cirque had set up stages of some sort.

Barb and I were curious about the event, but neither of us had any set expectations about the performance. If anything, we both were a bit skeptical, given all the hype. But, it was a lovely evening and we ventured down to the waterfront with open minds.

When we got to the first location the Cirque had set something up, we were surprised at how elaborate the stage was. The area, which is used for ice skating in the winter, had been transformed into a marsh, complete with whimsical trees and cattails and dreamy Cirque music was playing in the background. It was nearly 7 o’clock and quite a crowd had gathered. We understood the performance was from 7 – 9 p.m., so we joined the crowd.

After about 15 minutes of waiting with no sign of even a single performer, much less any performance beginning, we headed toward the other end of the waterfront to see what might be going on there. It was almost 8 o’clock by the time we made our way to the other whimsical Cirque stage. There too, Cirque music was playing and a large crowd had gathered. Once again, we joined the crowd and waited. After a few minutes I asked a couple folks whether they’d seen anything so far and they said no.

There was a garden nearby that I’d never walked through, so we decided to head there before it got dark. We figured that by the time we returned to the Cirque stage area, the performance would probably be underway. As we were making our way toward the garden we noticed a few Cirque performers headed toward us. Some were on stilts, one was dressed as a horseman, complete with an elaborate wooden-framed horse, and another was some sort of nymph. After that, we were on the look-out for other performers. We soon saw some that looked like a rag-tag street gang. Though it was fun watching them meander through the crowd, the interactions were pretty much what you get with normal street buskers.

We ended up back at the skating rink turned marsh (the first Cirque stage we saw that night) by about 8:45 p.m. The crowd had grown, but we still couldn’t see any performers there. I asked some people what we’d missed and the answer was: nothing. The performance, which was scheduled to end in just 15 minutes, hadn’t started -- or at least it hadn’t made its way there yet.

Barb and I loitered there for a few minutes – mainly to check out peoples’ reaction as they waited. To our surprise, most seemed un-phased by the wait. Maybe they were just happy to be by the lake on a beautiful evening, or maybe showing restlessness (much less irritation) just isn’t part of the Canadian temperament. I did see one couple briskly walking away and I heard the guy telling people who passed him that the performance was over. When I asked him if it had even begun, he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Well, I guess that’s the question, isn’t it?”

Not interested in waiting around any longer, we left. Though we had had a nice evening (it was a pleasure to walk around the harbourfront), we agreed it was unbelievable, not to mention rude, that the Cirque kept the crowd waiting like that. We laughed at the thought that maybe the joke was on Toronto – and Torontonians. Perhaps the Cirque folks were using Luminato to bring to life PT Barnum’s famous comment about fooling people!

We also talked about the fact that even though neither of us went with any real expectations about the Cirque’s performance, somehow we felt disappointed. That’s when the idea of an On being… about expectations came to me.

Pleased that I had an idea for On being…, I reassured Barb that the evening wasn’t a total bust because it gave me an idea for the column. To this, Barb very drolly said, “Let me guess: On being … duped?” I had to laugh. I told her I was thinking of something a bit more philosophical, but she did have a point. In thinking about Barb’s title I realized that, in fact, we did have an expectation going into the evening: we expected not to end up feeling like fools for waiting around for a show that, as far as we could tell, never really materialized.

As a post script I should tell you that according to the Toronto Star, apparently there was some kind of performance that evening -- we just didn’t stay long enough to see it. I don’t feel too bad about missing it, however. According to the newspaper, because the show was so late getting started it was “cut short and seemed underwhelming”. Underwhelming indeed…

© 2009 Ingrid Sapona