The Old School Lunch

The doctor who i’ve gone to for about 22 of my 23 years is calling it quits, hanging up the stethoscope, moving on to his well-deserved golden years. I didn’t know he was that old but he’s retiring and despite some lapses he’s had from time to time, I wish him well.

This is, after all, the doctor who once prescribed a big ol dose of Christianity (”you need to accept Jesus”) when I came to him with what he wrote down in his notes as a “panic attack.” The same doctor who prescribed tranquilizers to my mom despite the fact that she had a completely treatable illness at the time but alas, I guess for over 20 years of treating every member of my immediate family, he’s done as well as anyone could’ve hoped for.

The main reason, however, that I respect him as a doctor and a person is because of what he did and has done for the Korean American community in my neighborhood. I respect him because I know of a few Korean and Asian doctors who covertly avoid having patients of their own ethnic group because they see them as “hassles.” They will go so far as to tell other doctors, other family doctors to not refer them to their practice because of this perceived reason. Regardless of whatever profession you look at, whatever ethnic community you examine, there will always be a few folks who want to be seen as a “normal” doctor or plumber or painter or lawyer. They want a “normal” clientele which to them means “diverse” when it in actuality is “I don’t want a lot of those people in my business.” In many ways, people still believe that to be an indicator of a legitimate (insert vocation), where one has a “wide-range” of customers (read: White). Why do people think like this? It’s because our culture has always been very steadfast in suggesting that patronage from White, upper class folks is the ultimate sign of making it, of being validated for your hard work.

My parents, like many of the older generation Koream folks here, speak conversational English but not fluently enough to 100% understand say, legal documents or yes, critical medical information. And when you’ve got a certain population who would very much prefer to speak to someone concerning their health in the native tongue, it’s important to have a person who not only speaks the language but is also a part of the community itself, someone who is and has been there. Going to the doctor isn’t just a matter of “well, this person’s a doctor so OK, they must be good” to many folks like my parents. It’s an issue of trust centered on a relationship that the person giving services is somehow or another rooted in the community and as such isn’t, to be frank, going to screw you over. In other words, you tend to breathe easier when you know that the doctor who gave you medical advice on Friday is going to be at the local church worship on Sunday.

He was there when my parents first arrived and he was there as new immigrants arrived and found solace in someone who they heard through word-of-mouth was not only a good doctor but a part of the local fabric.

My Church-going doctor has been a big part of the many families here and he’s done it without any hesitation, any regrets towards what I see as his very much inherited and heavy responsibility. He knew he was needed where he was and he became a servant to the community.

But maybe i’m wrong, maybe he longed to teach at some prestigious medical school in Ohio or maybe he wanted to move shop to a rich part of town to a big-time hospital where his client demographic (and his paycheck) would have been very much different.

If he did, he never showed it. And for that, among many other things, I am grateful.